Part Seven: It's easier to lie,

and be safe.

Yet, time and time again,

I'm half stalled.

Edward is the only one left to say goodbye.

And for the briefest moment, after he says it, he wants more than anything to take it back. To hold her in his arms, to kiss her and tell her it's all a lie, to promise to never leave, to be here to protect her for as long as he has- protect her from himself if necessary.

But then she asks him to wait, and he remembers that it's all his fault that she's in danger, his fault that she's got this idiotic notion of joining him into her head, his fault for not being able to leave her alone and getting attached, when it would always have had to end this way- and he can't seem to feel sorry for this one, for getting to know her and love her for a few short months, so he knows it's better to leave. Because her safety is what he wants most. No, that's a lie. It matters more than what he wants most.

So he takes her arms, partially to hold one last time, partially to restrain her, but mostly to restrain himself- from picking her up, throwing her across his back and taking her with him.

And Alice was right. This goodbye is hard. It seems too hard now, as he looks into her eyes, to ignore the impulse to blurt out a final "I love you" because he can't bare to leave her like this, with no fragment of his love remaining. But he knows she'll always hope, that maybe, someday, the love might bring him back, and that hope could destroy the two of them.

And he's still with her and the absence is already burning into him. Even though he's still breathing in her scent, still hearing her heart beat, erratically now, with panic. How much worse was it going to get? But that's the way it needs to stay- with her heart beating and her blood flowing beneath her skin in sweet torrents. And he has to leave for this to happen.

So he leans in, taking in that final sniff, touching her warm skin softly with his lips- the last warmth he was going to feel for a while- probably ever. When he raises his head, her eyes are closed, her breathing shallow and fast. This is to be his last image of her, to take with him into his self-inflicted hell- terrified and in agony. It's too much to bare and he's almost glad her eyes are closed now- so she can't see the mask crumbling on his face.

"Take care of yourself," he manages to choke out. He knows he can't do it himself anymore... Then he repels himself from the pain he's inflicted on her, that he knows he can't comfort or take back, as much as he might want to.

And he refuses himself another glance...

I hate to do that to him. But I like to remember what everyone always forgets- that it hurts Edward when he leaves as well. Just because he has to do it, doesn't mean it doesn't kill him inside. Review if you like.