B pov.

I felt hollow.

It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. The false sense of brittleness in the bones of my fingers, the stiffness in my knees that barely holds them up. After what Edward called "the crash", I felt this way a lot. Like there was nothing. Nothing to hold me, nothing to comfort me, and everything to break me.

It was a corner I stood in. A particularly dark one, at that. There wasn't anything especially frightening about this certain corner, but there was an under-lying sense of danger. Almost like the tiny rumble before an earthquake sheds its fury.

Far off, I can hear a low grumbling. It seems as if it's getting closer, and the slight quake under my feet grows stronger. Normally, I would be scared, but is there really anything to be so frightening of right now?

Not then, but now.

It's a train, flying in a rickety rhythm down a set of invisible tracks. The cars are different shades of faded colors with graffiti almost completely covering what paint remains. As each car flits by, I am able to catch a few of the words. Cathy + Bob = Love; This town sucks!; Al wasn't here; Free Love, Baby! Had I been around in those times, maybe I would have painted words of regret on train cars.

Now I can see the caboose of the line of cars, and am surprised by a tiny shadow at the end. Its long form seems to be clinging to the end of the train, though it doesn't seem to be struggling for grip. Maybe a tarp or piece of broken metal. As it comes closer, I can see that it isn't a large bit of cloth, but a person. The moonlight seems to be absorbed my their skin, putting of an iridescent glow. The face is strikingly similar to Edward's, though there is a certain element that separates them. It isn't the skin (though I will admit that it is alarmingly pale) or the hair. Even the same angelic beauty is still there, though it seems intensified, and slightly marred by the unnamed difference. His expression is far from the thoughtful expression that Edward so often bears. It is that of hunger. Pure, untamed hunger.

Suddenly the difference is apparent: those eyes. Instead of the warm green, I see only black swimming in glowing crimson.

He hangs casually of the last car as if it's his front porch. His left hangs out, fingers curled in a hunter-like way. In one jerky movement, he has caught the front of my shirt, never leaving the moving train. I hang over the flashing ground, looking down with eyes that are more than wary. Now that I am in his reach, the man licks his lips, smiling at me in a sickening way. This isn't Edward! I screech inside my head. He is unaware of my panic. His eyes have moved to the largest vein in my throat, moving towards it slowly. There is a slight crunch as his teeth punctured my flesh, and an even louder shriek as the pain arrived.

It was like ice. Everywhere - making my eyes swollen, clogging my throat, speeding through my veins, choking my heart. It was like ice, except fire. Two complete opposites, yet meshing so uncontrollably well as one.

I screamed again, and the keening sound was far more agonizing this time. "Make it stop!" I cried. "Stop! Please, please stop!" The monstrous Edward looked up from the crook of my neck only to glare and then sink his teeth even deeper. He began to shake my shoulders . . .

"Bella," someone said soothingly. "Bella, shh, it's going to stop. Wake up, Bella, wake up." I felt my eyes ease open to find a god-like creature holding me against his chest.

"Edward?" I whimpered. My voice sounded rough and thick.

"Yes, love. I'm here," he whispered. "Are you all right? Those were some loud screams."

"I was screaming?" I asked.

"Yes. You sounded like you were I some sort of pain. It scared me," he admitted. Then more quietly he added, "I hate to see you in such pain."

"What was I screaming?"

"Well, you were talking for a bit before that. You were saying something about a train and eyes. And then you started to scream, 'Make it stop!'. You were . . . begging." He paused, his body going still for a moment. The worried expression on his face put uncomfortable knots in my stomach. "Do you mind if I ask what you were dreaming about. If you don't want to, that's fine. I'm just curious."

"It's okay. I was dreaming about a train. There was this . . . thing at the end. It was kind of like a human, but more animal-like. He pulled me onto the train while it was moving. Then he started to . . . eat me."

To my surprise, Edward chuckled. "I'm sorry to laugh, love. That's sick of me. It's just . . . it tried to eat you?" Another laugh escaped his beautiful lips.

"And succeeded," I murmured. "You wouldn't know what it was like, Edward; I don't blame you for laughing. It was . . ." I paused, not sure if I should share who the creature resembled. "Never mind."

"What? It was what, Bella?" Edward prodded. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't press on something that frightens you so much. I'll go back to sleep now."

My arms slowly slid from their grip around his back as he got up. Already, my body ached to be in his arms. The hollow feeling arose again, just as it did whenever Edward happened to be absent.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for his reaction. Fury? Sadness? "It was you." The words came out in a whoosh, making them hard to understand.

"What?"

"It was you. Or at least it looked like it." My voice had become quieter than a whisper, but he obviously heard.

Though there were no lights, I could tell by the minimum light that this pained him. "I'm going to sleep now," he said, closing his eyes before he was able to lay down. "I'm such a sick monster . . ." I heard him mutter. "You're a moron, Edward, a moron!"

There was the crinkling sound of his body nestling into the synthetic fibers of the bag, and then silence. Before it could grow into an awkward emptiness, I heard tiny sniffles. They weren't the petty, meaningless tears that a regular person would release, but the sorrowful tears shed by a man at a his weakest. The sound actually pained me. I longed to simply sit up and say, "That wasn't true. Just joking!" But that would be a lie. And what would a lie mean to him? More pain, more sadness?

Instead, I crawled off of the large bed and onto the floor. I laid myself by the sleeping bag, wrapping my arms around Edward's muscled body. I stroked his back in an attempt to soothe him. "I'm sorry," I breathed against his neck. This wasn't a lie. To see Edward in pain such as this . . . It was unbearable. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid of me."

He didn't answer, only continued to sniffle. Though it took effort, I hoisted his body onto the bed, tucking the covers around his chin. The action made me feel maternal. To keep him happy, I snuggled in beside him. I didn't have to move an inch before he had me wrapped into his chest.

"You shouldn't have apologized," he said. "I shouldn't have reacted that way. I could have tried to comfort you, but instead you do that to me. It makes me feel like a kid, and I really don't enjoy that. I want to be able to help you, not the other way around."

"You need to stop blaming yourself. I am the weak one in the relationship. Have you noticed that I constantly need you around me, constantly to know that you'll be with me forever and that you love me?" I asked, shaking my head all the while.

"Isn't that how it's supposed to work?" Edward countered. "I take the role of the super hero, and you the damsel in distress. At least, that's how it happens in movies. If I save you time and time again, there's always a happy ending for us. But I've failed. I let you get hurt and broken while I sat on the sidelines and watched. It's sick. Very, very sick. But you've been suffering without complaint. That just doesn't seem fair. Shouldn't I, the one who could have saved you, have been the one who was punished?"

"No." My answer was simple. No other words were needed.

"Yes, Bella, I should," he objected.

I sat up, now facing him. "Why are you always so intent on having the blame all to yourself? I mean, you don't you just let someone else be the culprit for once? It's not like you're the one that did this to me." I used my hand to gesture to my head that had been emptied of all its memories.

"You didn't either," Edward countered. An unidentifiable emotion flashed across his beautiful features.

"The fact that I didn't doesn't mean that you did," I said exasperatedly. "Look, can we just forget about this?"

"No," he began. "but we can stop talking about it if you want." He brought me back into his chest and buried his nose into my messy hair. Already, the conversation we just had seemed to be fading away into the smell of his skin.

"You have an uncanny ability to make me feel better," I admitted.

"It's not like you don't do the same to me. Everything about you-- your hair, your voice, your eyes -- it all seems to just push everything away." He paused, and then continued with, "That probably the cheesiest thing ever verbalized by mankind."

I laughed. "I thought it was sweet."

"Glad you thought so. Now sleep, love." I recognized the tinkling melody he had played for me earlier as I drifted into the most satisfied sleep of my life.