A/N: Hot off the presses... I literally JUST finished writing this one, but I'm glad you are so anxious to read it! It's comparitively shorter than the last chapter, but I should be geting them out a bit faster as I finish finals and such.

Musical Inspiration: EPOV - One Last Breath - Creed, BPOV - What's This Life For - Creed

Chapter 9 – Journal

EPOV

Alice stayed with me while Jasper followed Bella, with his vampire hearing and his ability to gauge emotions, he'd know when to interfere if Bella got too close.

As we sat alone in the attic of my old home, Alice prodded me for more and more information about Bella.

"So do you love her?" Alice asked once Jasper was out of earshot.

I looked up at her, though I could not force my mouth to form words. Through the night when Jasper had accused me of loving her I had blown it off… that's not the feeling I felt toward her, it couldn't be; love was soft, tender, admiring, like the way I had felt for Willow in my human life.

With Bella it was fierce, dangerous, complete infatuation, but not love… no, I could never let it turn into that.

"Edward, you're not the monster you make yourself out to be, you can let your guard down a little, sometimes." She said.

"No, never. I wanted her Alice… it took everything I had not to take her when her throat was in my hand. So sweet smelling, even now the memory of it, the scent of her in the house… makes my mouth water." I said hanging my head once again.

"Edward, I may as well tell you so I won't have to block you anymore… you end up with her… I have seen it, it is certain." She said, laughing a bit at the last part.

"Alice, your visions are subjective… I will not give in; I will not make that decision… I know that." I retorted.

"Maybe you won't have too… maybe she'll do it for you." She giggled teasingly.

"You do love her." She said. "Otherwise you wouldn't have to fight it this much… you can admit it, you know; it's not wrong to fall in love with a human. Rosalie did."

"Alice, Rosalie got lucky… Emmett was dying; there was no way he would have recovered. Besides, I'm not as self-serving as Rosalie." I said.

"Exactly, which is why I know that you will give in to her first… sometimes you're insufferably altruistic." She laughed.

I laughed and sobbed at the same moment, all while trying to speak… "I'm going straight to hell Alice. How could I not, but now, not just for what I am, but that I want to bring an innocent child into my world." I buried my face in my hands.

Alice walked over and sat next to me, placing her tiny hand around my shoulders.

"I love you, big brother… and I want you to be happy no matter what… and you're not going to go to hell for wanting her in a non-nutritional sort of way; there's someone for everyone out there, you know. She's just a different race from you that's all." She said comfortingly.

"Race? She's a whole different species, Alice! She's not going to fall for a monster like me." I said, quite convinced of the last statement.

"Edward, with all the books you've read in the past hundred years have you never come across the tale, in some form, of Beauty and the Beast? It's everywhere… in the tale of Cyrano De Bergerac, the Frog Prince, Cupid and Psyche, Shrek? They all have one theme in common… a young beautiful human, falls for an incredible, witty or beautiful non-human."

I looked at her through my hands… "Shrek? Honestly?" I asked.

"Well it applies." She said defensively.

"Those are fairy tales, Alice." I said, getting slightly annoyed.

"Oh, right, I forgot… the vampire doesn't believe in mythical tales of fantastic creatures." She said mockingly.

I sighed… there was no arguing with Alice. She was convinced, and that was that.

We did not have to wait long for Jasper to return.

"Well?" Alice said anxiously.

"Not sure, it could turn either way…" he said.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, she went to a historian who seemed to know quite a bit about your family and Carlisle… she told them you weren't in your coffin… they checked crematory records and didn't find you… now they're going to try to track Carlisle through the years, see what they can find on his descendants, which they are sure you are one of." Jasper said quickly.

This was bad… not that Carlisle hadn't covered his tracks well… but soon they would find out about Esme, perhaps even hear Rosalie's name mentioned along the way… all that had happened within only a decade of my change…

We had been in such a hurry to get me out of town after my change, my father being quite famous locally, someone would have been sure to recognize me.

Not to mention my newborn bloodlust in a town full of weak, recovering flu victims… moving to the country in Cedar Creek Michigan, after a brief stint in Ohio, where we lived in 1921… where Carlisle met Esme for the second time…

We thought that the purchase and placement of a coffin in my family grave would suffice and people would assume that the lack of death certificate and burial record was due to the high volume of deaths and burials of those perishing with the flu.

I never in a million years would have imagined my identity would be threatened by a little girl…

Jasper spoke again breaking my train of thought.

"She knew I was following her, she 'felt' like she was being stalked… if only she knew." He laughed at the last comment.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"Across the street, sounded like she was in the kitchen." Jasper said.

"Edward,' Alice began, 'you're going to have to stop her, you know… before we have to take care of the historian and anyone he drags into it… we may already have a problem on our hands even now." She said sadly.

"I don't know, Alice… I can't… she'll leave the house, she won't want it. I can't tell her." I said shaking my head.

"Then she'll be dinner." Jasper said matter-of-factly.

I flew at him… "Don't you even joke about that, Jasper; I'll tear you apart if you dare even think..." my hands were on his throat, my face inches from his own.

Jasper shook beneath me with laughter… I released my grip as I realized what he'd done.

He was laughing so hard as he sat up he could not catch his breath… but it did not keep him from trying to speak.

"I… told…you………. You love her….." he said between gasps.

Had I been less of a gentleman I'd have called him all the names I was thinking… but I hadn't the time; just then we heard Bella walk in the door and go back to the library until she padded in her bare feet to my old room.

We all sat up as we heard a thump…. Surely she hadn't fallen again?

"Sounded like a book…" Jasper said after a bit.

Alice nodded in agreement. Of course, she must have taken one to bed with her, I thought.

We all sat back and relaxed for another night of reminiscing and catching up… I wondered what she would think up for tomorrow.

BPOV

I opened the book gingerly, the pages, I was sure would be brittle. The script was beautiful; it was hard to believe it had belonged to a boy.

I began in the middle, though I do not know why. It read:

"Journal entry - May 2nd, 1917

I spoke to her again today; her long hair was fluttering in the wind and around her face. What I wouldn't have given to be able to touch that immaculate, rosy cheek… it looked so soft in the summer sunlight. I'm glad she didn't cut her hair like many of her girlfriends have; the long hair suits her so much better. Perhaps I'm old fashioned, but I dislike the clothing and hair styles that are becoming more popular among the young women here… they seem so forward, so rebellious. I'm glad that my Willow has not chosen to follow them.

Father spoke to me again today about my choices for college… he wants me to attend Yale, his alma-mater, but I would prefer a smaller, more close-knit school. Of course I will acquiesce to his expectations and become a doctor like him, but I might like to specialize, in what I am not sure yet.

Mother is afraid that I will not be able to worry about college for being drafted. There is talk about lowering the draft age to eighteen… if I must go then I shall… though I hate the thought of what it will do to mother.

I hear rumors flying that a new strain of the flu is spreading in Europe. They are calling it a pandemic, though I doubt it will reach here. Supposedly it began in Spain, so they have dubbed it the 'Spanish Flu.'

That is all I have to write about for today, now for the pillow to comfort me as I let my mind wander to thoughts of my beloved. Perhaps I will compose a piece on the piano for her tomorrow. Of course she will not hear it until it is perfect, but working on it will give me solace."

I flipped carefully through the pages until I came to the last entry…

"Journal Entry – September 18th, 1918

Father has fallen ill and has been sick for a little under a week, I fear that mother will contract it as well as she cares for him. Of course if she falls ill, I will care for her. Dr. Cullen makes his rounds daily, but each time he visits, he looks less and less hopeful.

Mother has taken to speaking to him in private; even though I am well old enough to hear the truth about my father, I do not question her actions – I believe she needs to feel she has protected me somehow and if this makes her feel better, then I will not complain.

Our house has been quarantined, which is an odd feeling. I had to leave yesterday to buy some things from the druggist and give a list to the grocer. They acted strangely and the grocer promised to have our usual quantity delivered at no extra charge if only I wouldn't visit personally anymore.

I think I shall turn in early tonight; my throat is feeling a bit sore, and my head aches… probably just overtired."

I closed the journal… the last words ran over and over in my head… he was sick already and he didn't know it yet.

How sad to imagine his reaction the next few days after this entry once he realized what was happening.

The death certificates showed his father died first on the 20th, followed a week later by his mother.

Hospital records showed that he was last cared for at 9:15 pm on Sunday, September 29th by Dr. Cullen who wrote in the boy's chart that he had only hours to live, that his lungs were filling with fluid and his pulse was weakening. The boy would likely have died of pneumonia brought on by the Spanish flu epidemic.

I put the journal on the bedside table and lay back into the pillows. The face in the photograph floated through my mind as I drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.

A/N: Okay, review time! I love hearing from you guys!