Verry excited. This is a story I've been waiting to start for a long, long time although I am in the middle of another. It is inspired by my favorite singer and songwriter, Regina Spektor, and thus named Apres Moi, which means 'after me' in French. I promise that this isn't another Fanfic where Edward returns after years to find that Bella has mysteriously become a vampire and they fall back in love and live happily ever after. That might have been a good storyline once, but it has been extensively overdone. It also has nothing to do with reincarnation. No spoilers, but I will say, however, that this story will be relatively short, yet satisfying, I hope. Additionally, this is my very first time writing something in the present tense, so forgive me if it sounds a little choppy now and then. Please review, especially if you've read my other story, How to Save a Life. I would really appreciate some feedback.

Anita.

"February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring..."

Boris Pasternak - February

1. FEBRUARY

EdPOV

February. The rain falls in sheets and large grey storm clouds navigate the dark skies. It's when the first rays of sun dare to break the horizon that I allow myself to know that this dreary town is no longer mine. Bathed in the light of day, I don't recognize its winding streets and slick alleyways. The meadows and forests I once sought solace in are now weary and reluctant to welcome me back into their leafy embrace as they once might have. Though I am no stranger to their alienation, the discomfort of the humans around me seems much more apparent now. But this morning, it rains. Under the cover of a cloudy sky, it is safe to pretend that I still belong here, that there is still some logical reason for me to remain in this place that doesn't seem to want me anymore. A distant bolt of lightning strikes the earth and splits the sky.

"…Edward Cullen."

I blink and pull my gaze away from the window.

Over the rim of her spectacles, the surly teacher regards me with a decided distaste. "You might at least have the decency to look as if there is still something in our curriculum that you do not already know."

"Of course, Mrs. Salem."

Her beady eyes narrow and she holds her glare for a second longer before continuing her uninspiring lecture. Why doesn't he just graduate already? No doubt the smug child imagines that he'd probably teach this class better himself.

The trials of young, troubled Hamlet cease to hold my attention. My eyes dart back to the window when she turns to scrawl something on the board. It is somewhat comforting to know that there are still some things in Forks that haven't changed at all. The rain begins to let up, but voluminous black clouds still linger, a passive threat in the churning sky.

I am the first out of the door when the bell finally rings. Making my way down the hall, I try to tune out the sea of secret thoughts and desires that threaten to suffocate me, but it's not as easy as it used to be. As students begin to file back into their classrooms, I wonder why I'd ever thought that this might be a good idea. With a surrendering sigh, I turn and pull open the door to building five.

Before I can react, a dark-haired girl stumbles through the threshold and crashes into me. The books in her arms tumble to the linoleum tiles, and she follows them down. I swear and drop down to help her. She mumbles a rushed apology, head down and scrambles to collect her things. I lean closer to steady her…and stop. In that instant, the unmistakable scent of freesia penetrates the air and sends my mind reeling.

"God, I'm so late," she mutters. Unable to move, I watch her deposit the textbooks into a bag and stand up. I blink. This is impossible. I stop breathing for a moment, and then pull in a cautious breath. The undeniable smell is stronger than ever. The girl pauses reluctantly to look down at me.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Faster than I can stop myself, I am on my feet, inches away from her. Her eyes widen as they meet my hungry and disbelieving ones. I seize her arm in my hand.

"Bella?" The name comes out hoarse and uncertain.

She looks at me, confused. "Um…I'm Elizabeth. Have we met?"

I hardly hear her reply. "Bella…you're still here. How…"

She frowns and pulls away from me. "My name isn't Bella. I don't even know who you are."

My thoughts race, bouncing back and forth in my head, questions anxious to bubble out. "What do you…you don't know who I am?"

Suspicion changes her face. "No. Should I know who you are?"

Her scent threatens to overpower me and I can just barely manage not to pull her to me. "But you have to know me, Bella," I whisper softly. Of its own accord, my hand tucks a stray hair behind her ear.

For the first time, she looks scared. "Look, I don't know who you're looking for, but I am not her, I'm Elizabeth, and I'm late for practice!" Suddenly, she winces and cries out. "Let me go!"

I shake my head. "No, Bella, you have to know me, I – "

"Stop, please!" she begs, "You're hurting me!"

Instantly I let go and look down. Already blue patches begin to stain the soft skin of her inner arms. I mumble an incoherent apology, but before I can get anything else out, she walks swiftly away from me. I follow her with my eyes, panic building in my chest. The girl stops and turns, and looks at me with the eyes that have haunted me for decades. I reach out for her, call her name, but she shakes her head. Helpless, I watch her hurry down the hall.

ElizPOV

I hesitate. The straps of my backpack dig into my bare shoulders, heavy with the weight of my volleyball equipment and several textbooks. My heart pounds and my palms are suddenly sweaty. Against my better against judgment, I come to a stop and look over my shoulder. He is still standing there. His liquid gold eyes, fixed on me, are troubled, almost anguished, and my breath catches in my throat again. He is beautiful. For some reason, even though my wrist still hurts, I want to help him, but I can't. As I examine him, he stretches a hand out and takes a step forward.

"Bella…"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not whoever you think I am." Before he can say any more, I turn quickly and head to the gymnasium, my head spinning.

Sixth time's a charm. Trying one last time, I jump and spike the ball as hard as I am able, but it only bounces off the net and out of bounds. He blows the whistle. "What's the deal, Swan? Your whole game's off today."

"Sorry, Coach," I reply apologetically. "I guess I'm just a little distracted." I push my sweat-soaked hair away from my eyes and rest my hands on my knees, breathing hard.

Coach Warner knocks his clipboard on my head lightly. "Well, I need a focused captain for the game against Kearney, so go home and get your head straight. That's an order."

I watch him sling his duffel over an arm and exit the door to the parking lot. I am the last one in the large gym. With a determined growl, I pick the ball up again, move into the service box and slam out my knockout serve. The ball soars up into the rafters and eventually lands in the next court. I curse and kick the bleachers. After a frustrated glare at the ball rolling behind the scoreboard, I take a long swig of water from my bottle, heft my bag from a bench and head for the showers.

Hair still wet, I close the door to the locker room behind me and step into the hall. It is late and the lights have been dimmed. Sighing, I drop my bag and kneel down to tie an unlaced shoe. As I straighten myself, something seems to shift in the darkness. I freeze. Suddenly a strong hand falls on my shoulder. I jump and an involuntary scream escapes my throat.

"Hey, hey, it's just me." Daniel steps into the light.

I breathe a sigh of relief and squeeze my eyes shut, bringing a hand to my chest. "Jesus, you scared the crap out of me."

He frowns and cups my cheek. "I'm sorry. Feeling a little jumpy?"

I nod and lean into his hand. "Yeah, I guess so."

He considers me for a minute. "It's probably just pre-game nerves," he decides, kissing my forehead. I bite my lip. Daniel takes my hand and walks beside me. "How was practice?"

"Not very good," I mutter, looking down. "I was late so Coach made me run double Killers. My serve is off, too. And I think I didn't so well on Lawler's bio test. Today's just not a good day for me."

"What happened?" he asks, pushing open the door. We step out into the parking lot and head for his car.

"Have you seen some guy around here with…brownish reddish hair and really pale skin? He's tall too." I pause. "And he has…golden eyes."

"You mean the new kid?" Daniel asks, looking puzzled. "What about him?" He grabs our bags and hurls them into the trunk of his old Honda.

After a moment of hesitation, I sigh and shake my head. "It's nothing."

Daniel walks slowly back around the car to stand in front of me, and pulls me into his strong arms. I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder as my nerves begin to melt. He smells of grass and sweat and deodorant. I feel safe.

"I wish I could change whatever happened to throw your day off," he says softly, kissing my hair.

I inhale his scent and lean closer into him. "You're the best."

"And don't you forget it," he smiles, eventually pulling away from me. "Now let's get you home before your grandfather starts worrying."

We are halfway there before I look back and realize that the same black coupe that was behind us in the parking lot is still there. I look at Daniel, but he doesn't seem concerned, so I assume we just have similar destinations. By the time we pull into my driveway, the stars are already coming out. Daniel takes my bag out of the car and carries it up to the porch. After a quick sweep of the forest lining my neighborhood, I follow him up the porch stairs.

He drops the bag lightly and turns to me.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"Anytime," Daniel replies huskily. He puts a hand on my waist and pulls me closer. I tilt my head up and our lips touch softly. He deepens the kiss and I respond, holding his face in my hands. Eventually, I hear a thud inside the house and pull back.

"I'd better go."

He nods with a heavy sigh and takes a step back. "Take it easy, Swan," he says, lightly tugging my still damp ponytail. "Sleep tight."

"Goodbye, Daniel." I watch as he walks to his car and drives away. Instantly, it hits me how cold and dark it has quickly become. I shiver and step inside the warm house, locking the door tight behind me.

I walk into the living room and my grandfather Jacob sees me immediately. His watery eyes follow me as I move toward him.

"You're home," he sighs, looking relieved, and also reluctant to be relieved.

"Yes," I reply, just pleased to see he knows me today. "Sorry I'm late, Coach kept me after practice."

He nods and his blank eyes return to the muted television. I put down my things and walk slowly to the couch.

"Time for bed, Grandpa. It's late." I try to help him up, but he pushes my hand away slowly. I watch him go up the stairs, then grab my bag and follow.

When I peek into his room, he is lying underneath a bed sheet and staring at the ceiling. I approach the bed and kiss the creases in his tanned, leathery skin. He turns to face the opposite wall.

"G'night."

He doesn't reply. I blink and leave the room. Dropping my bag onto the floor of my room, I close the door quietly behind me. Anxious to get some sleep, I shimmy out of my clothes and slip into a large blue t-shirt that touches my kneecaps. After brushing my teeth, I go to the window and pull the blinds shut, but not before I see a sleek black car slip away from our house. I pause. My hair sticks to the back of my neck. Chalking it up to the nerves, I move away from the window and flop into my bed.

EdPOV

Dents begin to form where my hands grip the steering wheel. Keeping my target in mind, I race through every possible scenario that could explain what happened and yet none seem to add up. Strangely, I feel like jumping out of my own skin. Her scent is in the air, in the car, all over me and I can hardly stand it. For the first time, something I have no hope of explaing is unraveling completely before me and I have no control, no leverage, no pull. The image of her large, chocolate-brown doe eyes clouded with confusion and fear floats before my vision, taunting me with her abscence. My anger flares. I snarl and slam down on the accelerator. I must see her.