I apologize for the incredibly late update. It's always chapter nine that give me the most trouble with any story I work on.

Good news is: we're almost done with this fic. About four chapters to go.

. . . | . . .

C H A P T E R – N I N E:

Flanking the Shadows

~. . . . -=|=- . . . .~

"We used the third floor, mostly, for single travelers, but it's just storage, now. You'll have to excuse the dust."

We climbed the never-ending stairways, my thigh aching with each push. The air was stagnant and thick; the hall dark. It would've been lifeless if it weren't for the little slivers of light lining the floor under the curtains in front of us, or the doorways which surrounded the stairs, two on each side. Charlie's lantern revealed more of the floral-patterned wallpaper and railing as he immersed himself in the darkness. He came to rest in front of the second door on the right, searching for the correct key on the large ring he had pulled from his pocket.

My skin rose, and the hair on my arms stood on end as a chill passed through my bones. It felt different up here; colder, dizzying and strange. I glanced behind to Alice, curious if she felt it, too, but there were no telling clues on her face. She appeared tired, but I was alive from the charged air, my senses more alert than they had been in some time. My chest flattened and my muscles constricted as the breath stole from my lungs. And I felt something, then, as Charlie turned the lock over and pushed open the door.

Fear.

But like an exhaling breath, it left, and my body regained some of its warmth.

"Here's one room," Charlie said. Light filtered through the gauzy curtains, brightening up the once-night-fallen hall in a reddish-orange hue. It was the type of color that could only happen during sunset, or if a raging fire burned close. A dying need to look over my shoulder compelled me to turn around, convinced someone would be there, but there was nothing more than an empty hall. "It's not much," Charlie said, and I gave him my attention, "but at least there's a bed. The other room is on the other side." He gestured to the opposite side of the stairs.

"One room is fine," I said before he could start his steps.

Charlie placed one foot inside the door and peered in, like he'd never seen the inside of the room before. "Are you sure? The beds are small. It'd be kinda difficult to sleep with two people comfortably."

"No, it's okay, really. I can sleep on the floor. We don't want to be any more trouble than we already are." Truth being, I didn't feel comfortable sleeping in separate rooms, not when we had only just met these people.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you're more than welcome to two rooms. It's no trouble at all." He cocked a one-sided grin. "Well, I'm gonna let y'all get settled. I'll have water brought up in a while, along with some light. Oh!" He turned before descending the stairs. "One thing, the bathroom is out back and to the right. Make sure to take a candle with you. No tellin' what you may step on back there."

We thanked him then entered the room and shut ourselves inside. He said it wasn't much, but there was more than enough. The very small bed, pushed against the wall next to the window, was welcoming. There was a nightstand next to it, and a chest of drawers stood near with a large, square mirror hanging over. A single door stood on the wall to our left. Alice inspected and found it to be a long, but shallow closet.

"I could get used to this," she said, allowing a bag strap to roll off her shoulder. She dropped one knee to the bed so she could push back the short curtain at its side, inspecting the view which overlooked the garden, barn and shed.

I set my sack next to the closet. "Don't get too used to it." I wanted to sit next to her on the bed, but I was filthy.

Her fingers fell from the material when she looked to me. "Why did you suggest we share a room?"

I shook my head as I lowered myself to the blue rug in the middle of the room. A hiss escaped when my ass hit the floor. "It'd be pointless to mess up two?"

"It's more than that." She sat on the edge of the bed, eying my thigh. "What's wrong?"

My fingers worked to unlace my boots, and the best relief came when they slipped free of my achy feet. "I just have a bad feeling about that Jasper guy," I said, my voice low.

"You feel that way about everybody."

"It's different this time," I said, scratching my head. "He was... grinding... into Bella."

Her face twisted. "Isn't that her brother?"

"I thought so, but after I saw that I hope not."

Her stare fell to the floor. Her eyes seemed to glaze then she said, "Is that why you asked her to come with us?"

"Yes."

"Is that the only reason?"

I exhaled. "I feel sorry for her, Alice."

"Because she's a girl?"

"Because she can't defend herself. My God, were you even watching today?"

She shushed me. "Keep it down, someone will hear."

"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm just," I buried my face in a palm, "tired, is all."

"Well, you're in luck, because we have a bed right here with your name on it."

"You take it. I'm good here."

"You're so stubborn," she growled. It was silent for a moment before she chimed, "We could always share it."

I only half smiled. "That wouldn't be the greatest idea you've ever had."

"Why not? It should be fine if we both sleep on our sides. I promise I don't move that much."

My eyes dropped to the rug and I huffed at the thought. "I know you don't." I slept next to her for the past few weeks, huddled underneath the blanket. She was a silent sleeper, but beds were for more than just sleeping. I scanned the fibers of the old rug, thinking about it serving as my "mattress". The floor was cold, and it smelled funny closer to the hardwood. It wouldn't be the best night sleep I ever had, but it wouldn't be the worst, either. "Toss me that quilt under you."

She did. It wasn't thick and it was pink, but it would be okay for the night. I pulled our blanket from Alice's bag so I could roll it up and use it as a pillow.

Knocking sounded through the room.

Alice opened the door to Renee on the other side, holding a tray with a small basin, a pitcher set inside. When she entered the room to set the tray on the chest of drawers, I noticed the wash cloths, candles, matches and what looked to be a small bar of soap. They had everything.

Renee echoed Charlie earlier, "You don't have to share rooms."

I insisted it was easier.

"Well," she said, "if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

She returned to the dark hall, lantern-less, shutting the door behind her. I stood with a careful movement to avoid the pain I knew I would encounter, and caught my reflection when I turned to the tray.

My brow furrowed, the wrinkles creasing over my forehead more than I remembered. I frowned. I didn't know the man in the mirror. He was a stranger, an old, hairy stranger. I stepped forward for a closer inspection. There were dark circles under my eyes, and unfamiliar lines around my face. A hand wandered to my beard. I stroked it, not sure if I was trying to convince myself it wasn't really me. It sure as hell didn't look like me. I wasn't that old, was I? Had I aged so much?

"You look confused." Her face appeared in the mirror, over my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't look the same, is all. I'm like an old man."

She turned me around to face her, inspecting me. "You're under there somewhere." She pulled down on the hair at my chin with a smirk. "You could always whack a few years off if you wanted. But, before you start, I'd like to wash my face and rinse my mouth."

. . . | . . .

The fine edge of my knife slid along my cheek one final time before I scraped the soapy remains into a empty box I found in the closet. I brought water to my cheeks from the large bowl for a last rinse. I inspected.

Better. Cleaner. I recognize you. "What do you think?"

Alice lay across the bed, pushing the curtain back to look out into the night, but she turned. "Looks good, Red."

I rubbed my cheeks. They felt strange being so bare. "You're looking at me funny. Is it weird?"

"No, not at all." The curtain covered the window once more when she moved to the pillow. "Goodnight," she said. There was something passing through her mind, but for the moment, I wasn't going to concern myself with what she was thinking. I was too tired.

"Goodnight." I should've rested, then, but a charge pulsed behind my thoughts, resonating the fear I felt earlier and stirred it around in my chest. I lay on the rug, our blanket rolled under my head, the quilt covering me and tried to find relief from the day. My knife was tucked against my side, ready when I was if something stirred me in the night from sleep.

But, there was one problem: sleep was a thing that didn't like to be chased. I couldn't find it when I kept hearing noise after noise echo from the hall and into the room. The very floor under me creaked and moaned, as if the house were alive and moving. There were sounds outside the door that caused me to raise my head in concern when I started to get comfortable.

Footsteps and knocking were frequent, and with each sound the tension in my chest became tighter. Crickets chirped outside, but were constantly interrupted by screeches and scratches for the briefest of seconds. As the night pressed on, Alice's breathing became heavier and a voice began to filter into the mix the further I sank into the night; it came from under me, next to me, from the hall or at my ear. A jolt passed through me when I heard a boom from inside the house somewhere. It came again and again, repeatedly, as if something were hammering on the walls trying to escape.

It stopped as quickly as it began. I gripped onto the hilt of my Stalker, ready for anything to burst through our locked door, but whoever, or whatever, it was, was already in the room, pacing. A lingering shadow moved among the darkness. It had no distinct shape, and I couldn't track it directly. It was always there, flanking my periphery, but I could feel it watching me, and I knew, somehow, we were not alone in that room.

Warmth pressed against my shoulder, my cheek.

My eyes were compelled to open, although the night persisted there, too. A constant shadow.

Something was leaning over me, breathing in my face!

In one sharp move, I angled the knife's blade against my arm and forced myself onto the figure crouching over me. I was at the advantage now!

Shaky breaths hit my face. "Edward, it's Alice."

Alice. "What are you doing?" I exhaled, relaxing my knife. "I could've killed you."

"You woke me," she said.

"Woke you?"

"Yeah. You were making a lot of noise down here. Were you having a nightmare?"

"I... I don't know." Was I? The sensation of being watched felt real, and I could've swore I saw something roaming near my head. There was still a pull in my chest. My eyes weighed a hundred pounds, and my head was pounding. Perhaps I did have a nightmare, but it felt real. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. You weren't the only reason. I've been off and on for a while. I keep hearing noises."

"That makes two of us," I said, somewhat terrified it wasn't happening to me alone.

I felt her slide from beneath me. I hadn't realized I was nearly sitting on top of her. "I'm gonna find the matches. What was it about?"

"The nightmare? I don't know. It seemed real. I was here," I pointed to the floor, "laying down, but something was moving around me. I heard voices, too."

The walls appeared when Alice struck a match to life. She found the candle and lit the wick. "The voices were real. Someone was talking below us. It sounded like that Jasper guy." She sat beside me, curling her legs underneath her. "You're sweating," she said as she pushed away the hair fastened to my forehead. I felt chilled, though; not hot or sticky. "Do you want me to go downstairs and get you some fresh water?"

"No, I'll be fine." I wiped away the moisture then lay down once more, tucking my knife next to me. "It was just weird."

My shirt was tugged, and something tickled my skin. Alice had wrapped a finger around the hem and began to twist. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up sooner, to be honest."

"Was there a lot of noise?"

"Yeah," she grimaced, "Jasper shouted once or twice, but it was so muffled I couldn't hear what he was saying. Not to mention I heard banging on the walls and footsteps."

"I already don't like him. He seems like a Class A asshole. Ah, stop!" The muscles in my stomach twitched when her fingers grazed the skin above my pants. I occupied her fingers in mine. I groaned, "That tickles."

"I thought you said you weren't ticklish?" She smiled, running her thumb over my knuckles.

"I can turn it on and off," I said, slipping my wrist under my head so I could see her better from my position.

"I bet you can." Her smile deepened, and a chuckle nearly escaped her lips.

I smiled in return, feeling oddly affected by her expression. "You're in a good mood tonight."

"It's a good night; I ate 'til I was full, I'm sleeping in a bed and I'm here with you. This moment is so perfect right now."

"The only thing we're missing is some tequila."

"I was never much of a tequila person. I was a Pink-Panty-Dropper kinda girl."

I laughed. "What the fuck is that?"

"A really good drink! I forgot how it's made, though."

"That's unfortunate. Every man in my unit should've had one of those in hand," I teased. She poked me in the ribs.

"Not you, though, right? Not the Edward Cullen?"

Perhaps the old me didn't need to do much coercing in order to take home any woman I wanted, but if I were lined up next to twenty other men after the war, I would've probably been picked last. "Five years ago? No. Today? I'd need to double it."

Her flattened palm ran across my chest several times. "Aw," she babied, "you still have me. You don't have to buy me a drink in order for me to sleep with you."

"Comforting thought," I puffed with sarcasm. "I'll remember that." I'd meant it as a joke, but instead of grinning, she frowned. Shadows crept further over her face. "I was kidding, Al."

I lost her fingers from between mine. "No you weren't." She tried to get up from the floor, but I pulled her back, plopping her next to me again. "Stop. I'm done."

I let her go, knowing the room became heavier more suddenly than I could've ever imagined. "What do you mean you're done?" I asked as she crawled back on the comfortable-looking bed, underneath the sheets.

"Nothing," she replied as she turned her back to me to lay on her side.

Oh, God. The 'Nothing' reply. It made me want to scream! 'Nothing' always meant something, and it always had something to do with me. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over her legs with one arm propping me up. "Tell me, 'cause you know you're going to anyway."

"If you're too oblivious to figure it out, then you don't need to know."

"This is what I can't stand about women. You keep everything to yourself when we do something wrong so we can't fix it. Then, you stay mad at us for days, calling us assholes and bastards when you're the only asshole who didn't have the decency to tell us what we can do correct whatever the hell it was we did wrong in the first place. So please tell me so we can both avoid calling each other a bitch and a bastard tomorrow morning when we wake up."

Silence passed for unmeasured moments. I wasn't sure how long I stared out the window, waiting for her to speak. I had said something wrong and my heart was racing. I'd always hated confrontation with friends. It made me uneasy, especially when it came to Al. There was never a terrible thought far behind these conversations. Part of me always expected her to leave me. She'd pack her shit and walk away, never wanting anything to do with me ever again. I was sure I would become my father if she left; an emotionless, empty drone. My mom didn't want me to become like him.

I think what she failed to realize is: when she gave up on him, he gave up on himself. I could still remember the day she pulled me out of my sixth grade math class. I still remembered the tears on her cheek while she stood next to the principal, waiting to tell me my father was dead and I would be missing school the following week. She wouldn't tell me how he died, though. I didn't learn that until I was much older, but the closed-coffin funeral told me enough. It was messy.

"Why won't you sleep with me?" she asked.

What? I looked up, expecting to see her staring at me, but she wasn't. Her eyes were out the window. "What?" I asked.

She found my stare. Her lips were straight, sad. "Why won't you sleep with me?"

"The bed's too small, Al."

"No, not like that. I mean, why haven't you tried to... you know... have sex with me? You're all business, all the time. You're like some brainwashed machine that isn't affected by anything except whatever the Army taught you."

Ouch. "I'm not some machine, Alice. How could you say that?" Her words infuriated me, but the sadness on her face broke me. A tear rolled away from her eye and down her nose. Some men called it weakness, but I used the term understanding. It hurt to see a woman cry. I'd seen my mom cry enough during my lifetime. Nothing was worse than when Mom cried. Tears were my kryptonite, and it affected me.

She shook her head as much as she could, pressed against the pillow. "I don't know. I just... I put myself out there, hoping you'd make a move and you never did. It shouldn't have been hard, you know? I'm like, almost the last woman on Earth. We're together, and lately we've been sleeping right next to each other." She exhaled. It almost sounded like a chortle. "What's wrong with me? What's so wrong with me? Am I hideous? Too skinny?"

I leaned over her legs more. "Don't ever think that. You know I think the world of you."

"If you think the world of me, then why won't you be with me?"

"I can't. It's not that simple."

"Why not?" Her eyes squeezed shut, causing another tear to pinch and roll.

I sighed. "Al, the last thing I'd ever want to do is make you feel like shit, and I realize, now, that I failed to do that. You're my best friend. Just, tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it."

"I don't want that," she said softly.

"Then, tell me what I can do." I wanted that moment of tension to pass.

She sat up, then and said, "I want us to be together when we get to Florida. I want to build a life with you. I want to have your children. I want us to grow old together." She became more verbally upset as she went on."That's what I want, but you can't give it to me, can you? It's too complicated, isn't it?"

I couldn't process all the information at once. Actually, it scared me, causing me to back away from her a few inches. Sure, I loved her. I'd give my life for her, but it was hard to define my love because every sliver was gray, like the world. "Al, I wouldn't make a good husband-type. I don't even think I want kids. What kind of person would raise a child in these conditions?"

She flung herself downward to the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "See, something's wrong with me," she cried.

"Jesus Christ, Alice, nothing's wrong with you!" Stubborn woman! How could I convince her she was beautiful? I moved closer, leaning over her torso so I could look her in the eyes. "It's not you, it's me! You deserve more than what I can offer. I'm just a beat-up man that barely has any more fight. Can't you see that? You've gotten the best of whatever was left, and I gladly gave it to you, but you shouldn't want to be with someone like me. I'm not good."

Her teeth chattered, and her shoulders trembled when she reached for me again, fisting my shirt into her hands and pulling me closer. "You are good, and I do I want you. Please."

A chill passed through me, and my skin rose in response at her words. I swallowed the massive knot that had built in my throat. "I don't have much more to give."

"I'll take anything you can give me."

She was pulling me to her, clutching anywhere she could to achieve her goal to press her lips to mine. She wanted sex, but I didn't understand why. It became clear she had been entertaining the idea for a long time. Her actions suddenly made sense, but I couldn't give it to her. It was dangerous. So, I diverted from her path and, instead, placed my lips on her forehead; once, twice, a third time before pushing her crazed hair over her scalp, away from my cheeks. "Scoot over," I whispered at her ear.

I moved the candle from the chest of drawers to the nightstand, along with the matches. My Stalker was placed next to the candle holder before I blew the flame out. The dark persisted once more, but once my eyes adjusted, the moonlight contributed familiarity to our surroundings.

I managed to squeeze onto the bed, pressing my chest to her sheet-covered back and wrapping my arm around her waist. I found a comfortable curve in the pillow, then I pulled her tightly to me. She only obliged too enthusiastically. The contour of her against me, nearly pushed my resolve to not have sex with her. "Shh. Be still," I whispered. "Try to go to sleep."

Soon, her gentle sobs died, and her breathing returned to a steady pace.

My one, final mission was vowed to the woman who saved me when I couldn't save myself. I'd done everything I could to keep her safe. As the old saying goes: a life for a life. But, I hadn't thought to protect her from the one thing that could screw up everything.

Me.

Mirror by Helen Jane Long

(beautiful piano composition. check it out if you have the time. all her stuff is great.)