Disclaimer: I'm flattered, I really am -- but I am not Stephenie Meyer nor do I own the books (in a copyright sense)
OME...WOW...You guys are just...wow. Thanks to everyone who been reviewing and waiting anxiously for me to update. Your reviews are absolutely incredible, the compliments just wow! I've left you guys a little message on my lj (xxgoldeneyesxx. livejournal. com) and I would really love it if you could just drop around and have a read--you don't have to leave a comment, just read, that's all I ask!
A shout out to jilburfm for giving me some more background info on Chicagoland, haha..
Part V – I had no right to want you—but I reached out and took you anyway…
"Bella, do you want to know what he tried to do after he learnt what I had seen?…He went to Italy."
"But he…he left…He didn't want me."
"He lied."
Edward's eyes were wild from the hunt, a bright golden-brown, rainbows dancing off his skin…A different sort of excitement brightened his eyes then, and his mouth crashed down on mine.
EPOV
My car glided effortlessly over the rough tarmac of the expressway, speeding past the other vehicles doing the lawful seventy miles an hour and past the seemingly endless fields of bare corn stalks. My mind, which seemed to be experiencing extreme difficulties keeping up with my body these last few hours, was still back in the forest.
I had been so caught up with the thrill of the hunt, so eager to escape reality, that I hadn't even realised that someone else was hunting close by. She had been downwind, coming from the north. The thrilling, dangerous sound of her snarl had, at the time, only alerted me to the presence of another predator after my prey. Her scent had not hit me until she had, and even though, on some unconscious level, I had recognised her instantly, it was the demon inside me that had been in control. Pure survival instincts took over with the recognition of another, dangerous predator. She had fought and I had responded in kind. For a moment she had had me pinned—thinking of it now made excitement run through me, the position intensely appealing to both the masculine and animalistic sides of my nature—and she had bent her head, intending, I'm sure, to use her razor-sharp teeth to behead me. Then she had paused.
I had worked so hard in that moment to bring myself back under control, to rein in the demon; even as I had rolled us over, part of me planning exactly the same thing she had. Only at the last moment did I succeed, breaking through the blinding cloud of bloodlust…
Only to make room for another type of lust.
I groaned, pushing my shoulders back against the seat, locking my arms stiff as I clutched the steering wheel, closing my eyes, remembering the feel of her mouth on mine.
What had I been thinking? Straight away, I snorted and opened my eyes, releasing myself from my stiff position. I hadn't been thinking. I had been hunting, then fighting for my life and then fighting for control. Once I had that control, it was too late for any other kind. My body was, once again, a thousand steps ahead of my mind. I had kissed her on impulse. I sighed. Once again, I had reached out and taken what I had wanted when I had no right.
But I hadn't been able to stop myself. What little restraint I had managed to keep around her while she was human, as hard as that had been, had disappeared completely now—and I knew why. Most of my efforts back then had been so that I wouldn't slip up and sink my teeth into her vulnerable flesh; to prevent myself from leaving unintentional bruises—or worse. All those careful lines I had drawn around our physical relationship had been based purely and solely on the fact that she had been human and I had not. The rest of my efforts had been spent trying to tame the demon in me, the demon that had roared for her blood every moment we were together and every moment we weren't—the same demon that mourned the loss of that blood even now, so many years later.
But all of that no longer mattered.
And that was why I couldn't bring myself to regret my actions. The guilt was so heavy that, by rights (and if I needed to breathe), I should be suffocating. Leaving her the way I had—I had no rights to be kissing her, instinctual or not. But there had been something so intensely…erotic about the whole situation—knowing that she was on the hunt; hearing her snarl; feeling her strength; seeing her soaked body beneath mine…
No, there was no way I could resist that.
And she hadn't objected. Not at first, anyway. I could remember with perfect clarity that soft, mewling noise she had made when our tongues touched, the way her hand had clutched at my hair, how eagerly she had entwined her fingers with mine. Just like the very first time I kissed her, only this time I didn't have to pull away. There was no rushing of blood to her lips, no sudden pounding of her heart—no need to restrain myself.
My excitement faded, the guilt weighing in heavy again, at the thought. Of course there had been no blood rush. Of course there was no pounding heartbeat.
She was a vampire now, condemned to a bleak half-life existence of eternal night—and it was my fault.
Again, my emotions turned from where they should've been and I found that I couldn't bring myself to completely mourn the fact that she was actually a vampire. I should be ashamed of myself, and on some distant, far away level I was—just. When we were together all those years ago in Forks, I tried not to think of what it would be like to be with her as a vampire—instead, I spent most of my time forcing myself to daydream about being human and being human with her, doing human things. But occasionally, I would slip. I would hate myself afterward, despising that I could even contemplate such a future for her, even if it was only make-believe—yet, could I be blamed? It was, after all, the more realistic of the two realities. There was no way I could have ever become human again, no matter what I was willing to give. And even if I was to become human, what is to say that I would even survive my first hour of my regained mortality? As vampires, we are frozen in the state we were in before we were changed. So who is to say that the Spanish Influenza hasn't been eternally frozen too, waiting to strike the moment my blood starts flowing again?
Now, at least, I had the chance to redeem myself. And I was determined to get her back. I didn't know if it was a cruel joke on God's part, giving me what I had wished for so desperately over the decades, but now I had the chance to set right every wrong I had caused. I had a chance to attempt some manner of describing what she meant to me. I had a chance to have her take me back. Cruel joke or not, I would do whatever I had to in order to have her forgive me—I'll even get down on my stomach and grovel at her feet like the pitiful, undeserving creature I am if I have to.
Anything—as long as I can have her back.
I sighed as I pulled up into the garage, parking next to my Audi. I sighed again as I put my head back on the headrest, closing my eyes. Esme was fretting—I realised, then, that I hadn't been home since seeing Bella yesterday.
I cringed, hearing the bookshop owner's voice again, calling her "Miss Masen". It hurt, for some inexplicable reason. As much as it warmed my long-dead heart, it hurt. Because I was so guilty for leaving her? Because I had wanted her to take my name, but I had wanted her to do it in a manner that involved rings and vows? Because she had taken my name, despite what I did to her?
Was it possible she still loved me? Even after all of that?
I got out of the car and walked slowly into the house. We lived on the very outskirts of the city, in a house very similar to the one in Forks. At first it had been painful, but as I grew accustomed to it, I was grateful for it's similarities. Sometimes I could close my eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream, that Bella was still with me, her heart still beating itself into a flying frenzy whenever I touched her, her blood flooding her face when she knew what was making me smile.
If only I could dream.
Esme and Carlisle were sitting in the living room, waiting for me. They both looked concerned and they were both guarding their thoughts. I frowned, suddenly and unjustly angry. It was bad enough that I couldn't hear Bella's thoughts, that I couldn't understand her reaction in the river. She had been kissing me as much as I had been kissing her and she had been enjoying it as much as I. Then she had thrown me off her with such ferocity, I wouldn't know what to think if I hadn't seen the fear in her eyes. I snarled quietly. Why was she afraid of me, now, when she was one of my kind, when I would have to expend a great deal of effort just to cause her some slight pain? Why did she fear me as a vampire but not when she was human?
I usually had no problems when my family blocked me out—I respected their privacy. If they didn't block me out, I tried to block them out. But my nerves were raw. I was angry. I was upset.
I turned my back on them and started to head upstairs, suddenly not wanting to talk. It was childish, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
Wait.
"Edward."
I paused, one foot on the stairs. I really just wanted to ignore him, go upstairs and lock myself in my room and… Well, I wasn't sure what I do, but if the pain in my chest was anything to go by it would probably be something along the lines of curling up into a ball and doing nothing but existing, just like I've been doing for the last eighty years. Or maybe I would start finding ways to get her back. Either way, I couldn't ignore him. Both my birth parents and my adopted ones had raised me better than that.
I turned.
Carlisle stood now, while Esme stared at me with an expression that told me she would be crying if she could. Their thoughts were still blocked.
"We've been worried, Edward. You haven't been answering your phone."
I shrugged. "I went hunting."
"Did you go a round with an alligator?" Emmett asked, walking in the French doors, with Rosalie right behind him. She wrinkled her nose, as she looked me over, disgust evident on her face. Usually I wouldn't have given a second thought to what she thought of my appearance—if not for the fact that I couldn't hear her thoughts. It was mildly surprising. Rosalie very rarely hid anything from me. That's not to that say she didn't on occasion. Majority of the time though, she was consumed in thoughts about her own perfection or tangled up in thoughts of Emmett. If she ever learnt anything she could use to goad me with, she kept it right up front where I would be sure to see it or deliberately blocked me out when she knew it was something I wanted to know. But her entire demeanour was different. Whatever she was hiding from me, she genuinely didn't want me to know.
Emmett's thoughts were similarly closed and that was an even greater surprise than Rosalie. I could count the number of times Emmett had deliberately blocked me on three fingers. His thoughts were always so obviously reflected in whatever he did or said, if not exactly what he had been thinking, that he had often told that me he didn't care in the least if I heard his thoughts.
"No."
"Your clothes say otherwise," Alice chirped from upstairs.
I glanced down. So that was why Rosalie had frowned. I was still wet, covered in dirt, and my shirt was torn where Bella had ripped through it with her nails. I hadn't even noticed.
But I did notice that Alice's thoughts were blocked. I searched for Jasper and met the same wall. All of them were in on it? I growled. I knew what it was about. Of course I did. Bella had shown up for the first time in eight decades, long after we thought she had died; after I had gone on a suicide mission to Italy that had very nearly gotten my entire family killed; after I had spent eight decades as a whole new brand of walking corpse. What else was it going to be about? But did they really think me that weak? That I wouldn't hold together if I heard her name in their thoughts?
"When did we start keeping secrets?" I asked through my teeth.
Rosalie lifted her chin, instantly on the defensive. "What? We're not entitled to a bit of privacy?"
I ignored her, in no mood to rise to the bait. I looked instead at Carlisle as Alice came down with Jasper in tow. I started to relax, feeling a calm spread through me. I tried to glare at Jasper, but the work was done. I sighed, all the tension leaving my shoulders. It was nice to relax, since I had been on edge since yesterday afternoon, but I didn't particularly want to be calm.
"You don't need to baby me," I told them.
"Are you sure about that?" Rosalie sneered. "I seem to remember the last time your little pet"—she spat the word—"was involved. We all ended up in Italy trying to restrain your suicidal tendencies."
I flinched.
"Rose," Emmett muttered, putting an arm around her shoulders. But she shook him off, stepping away from him, shaking her head. Her eyes were large and black as she glared furiously at me.
"We're not babying you Edward," Esme said softly into the silence. "We're just…"
"Concerned," Alice whispered. "We know how much you love her." She came up to me and took my hand. "We don't like seeing you in pain."
Rose is just upset. She squeezed my hand. She doesn't mean it.
What was she upset about? Upset that Bella was back, in a sense? Upset that Bella, if she would forgive me, would become part of this family? Upset that I could be happy again?
I shook my head, looking down into my sister's pixie face.
"What are you hiding from me, Alice?" My voice was soft, but I knew she heard the pain behind the words.
She hesitated, her eyes closing for a brief moment. When she looked back at me, her eyes were torn. You're going to hurt.
"Tell me," I begged.
She looked at Jasper over her shoulder and the tension in the air dissipated a bit. She took both my hands before saying, "We saw Bella today."
By 'we' I knew that she meant her, Esme and Rosalie. She showed me bits and pieces—Bella's shy smile, her expressive angelic face, her nervous fiddling with whatever she could get her hands on—all Bella. My Bella. I knew I was annoyed that she didn't let me see the whole conversation, but I couldn't make the effort to be with Jasper around. But what more could I ask for? As much as I burned to know what they had discussed, I could respect that Alice wanted to keep it private for her multitude of reasons. I had already taken more than I deserved today and then some.
It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Yes, it hurt, knowing that Alice and Esme had both had Bella willingly in their arms, knowing that they had gotten to sit down and listen to her voice. But the way Alice had looked at me, I had thought it would be so much worse.
"Thankyou," I said. I felt calm enough to tell her my little secret. "I saw her today too."
Her eyes went wide. "She came to you?"
I probably should've taken that as a warning sign, but Jasper's calming influence was taking its toll.
"So you've spoken to her?" Rosalie asked. Rosalie. That gave me pause. I expected the question to come from Esme, not Rosalie, who had always hated Bella, who had just gone out of her way to make sure I was in pain. I must have looked at her oddly because she huffed and crossed her arms, resuming her glaring. But I saw the thought before she had time to hide it.
She felt bad for Bella. She actually felt guilty that we had left.
I was taken completely by surprise. It was an unusual feeling because it rarely happened. The only other time I had experienced such surprise was during the six months I had spent with Bella, my own personal enigma who had taught me so much of what it was to be human. Her ability to keep me blocked had meant a good many surprises on my part, even with her expressive face and my future-seeing sister.
"Rosalie…" I started.
She knew I had seen it. She knew the moment she had thought it that I had seen it. Her glare grew more pronounced as she hissed at me.
"Don't you dare, Edward. Don't you dare try to tell me you thought it was for the best! If you hadn't made us leave, this wouldn't have happened." To accentuate her words, she threw images at me: Bella's dark golden eyes; Bella cupping her coffee-prop, the hot liquid's steam abruptly disappearing at her frozen touch; Bella's soft voice full of pain as she spoke; Bella with her head on her arms; Bella's heart-broken expression as she shook her head at something Esme was saying. Then the images changed: Bella as a human, watching me as I played the piano for her; Bella as a human at the party Alice had thrown for her, before everything went wrong; Bella as a human sitting across from me in the Forks High School cafeteria; me speaking happily with Esme, telling her what a klutz-prone danger magnet the love of my life was.
I saw the point she was ruthlessly making her way to. I knew why she was throwing all these images at me. Bella as a human and Bella as a vampire. The contrast was…indescribable.
"Do you have any idea what she has been through?" she continued. "All these years by herself? You made us leave, Edward! You told us she would be fine! And now we find out that she is one of us! We left because you told us to. And because of that, dear brother, she lost her humanity."
"That's not true, Rosalie," Alice said, still gripping my hands, like she was trying to hold me together. "Bella would've joined our family eventually, even if we had stayed."
I had never agreed with Alice on this point. I don't think I ever would. I still didn't now. And I had never liked to hear her little prophecies about Bella's change. I either couldn't stop the snarl that tore out of my chest, or I just couldn't be bothered—I didn't know really, because I was too distracted by the pain and the guilt. It was one thing to tell myself that the blame was all mine, but an entirely other thing to have Rosalie slap it in my face.
But it made sense, didn't it? Rosalie valued humanity above everything. Out of all us, she mourned the loss of hers, still, even after almost two centuries of this life. I had told Bella once that Rosalie was jealous of her humanity, that she didn't actually hate her as a person. Of course Rosalie wouldn't like it. But the thought never crossed my mind that she would be mad. I hadn't thought she cared about Bella that much.
"Edward…" Esme started, but I cut her off.
"She's right, Esme." My voice was calm and composed—the complete opposite of how I felt. I had to get away, before I collapsed. "She's right." I turned to go up the stairs. Alice stood in front of me, barring the way, only face-to-face because I was two steps lower. Her face was upset, the look of someone who knows they're about to be asked to do something they don't want to do because they'll hurt the person asking.
If I had had any idea just how bad the pain would be, would I have asked?
"Everything," I whispered, grabbing at her hand again. I didn't remember letting it go. "Please, I need to know." My voice cracked on the last word. The contrast Rosalie had shown me was too obvious.
Alice was shaking her head. "I can't tell you what she was thinking, Edward. And I can't tell you what she'll decide—I don't think I can see her now unless she wants me to."
"Please," I begged again.
She sighed.
I shut my eyes, trying to restrain the pain lancing through me as I watched Bella, my gorgeous Bella, as she explained her theory, how she had managed to disappear on me. It was what Alice had been thinking of while she spoke. Now, she slowly loosened her hold on the memory all together; letting me witness the entire encounter, from meeting outside the shoe shop to the moment she had gotten up and left.
Ah, the pain.
I groaned, feeling utterly broken and destroyed, and sank down onto the stairs. She still believed I didn't love her. It was so…I couldn't accurately describe how much it hurt. I just, so badly, wanted to die. I couldn't stand the pain. I couldn't… This afternoon meant nothing.
I'd lost her.
Esme was beside me, embracing me, rocking me back and forth, like I was a child. I felt Alice come and sit by my knees and she wrapped her arms around my waist, putting her head on my chest, muttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again. I knew Jasper stood at the bottom of the stairs, trying to ease my emotions, but they were too deep, the pain too much.
And I knew in that instant, that if I were human, I would have died.
xoXox
Sometime later, I found myself sitting at my piano. I don't know how much time later. I wasn't really sure how I got there. But I was sitting there, staring at the ivory keys. I didn't know if it was even still in tune. It had been so long since I had played—it would probably be covered in cobwebs if Esme wasn't such a meticulous cleaner. I ran my fingers over the smooth keys, pausing over the middle C. Without thinking about it, I pressed down. The note rang out clear and pure. The corner of my mouth twitched. Of course Esme had kept it in tune.
I sat up a bit straighter, lifting my left hand to join my right, and let my fingers dance out the tune to an old melody my birth mother had taught me—one of the few things of my human life that I remembered with perfect clarity.
Without conscious thought, I let the melody slow, moving further down the keys so the music became darker, more haunting. Through it, I weaved the notes I had first composed to a brighter, happier background. I closed my eyes and let the music take me, letting my fingers dance out a slow, mournful rendition of Bella's Lullaby.
I refused to let myself have any type of conscious thought. I blocked out the sounds of my family scattered throughout the house. There was only me, my music and the sound of all the emotion threatening to overwhelm me as it had earlier. I had no other way to express it. There were no words that could fully encapsulate what I was feeling and do it justice. I had lost the only thing, the only person who had ever given my life meaning. I wasn't sure what was more painful—thinking she was dead or knowing she was alive but didn't want me.
Music was my only means of expression.
My eyes stared vacantly into space as the memories, despite my efforts, leaked though my concentration.
I should have gone back. I should have just given in to what I had wanted and gone back. I had been thinking about it and I had known I was only a matter of days away from giving in when Rosalie had called me. If only I had gone back. Damn it, if only I had never left. Laurent would never have gotten his hands on her, let alone his teeth. She would've been safe, as safe as Bella ever was. Then we wouldn't be in this mess.
Anger lanced through me, at sharp odds with the devastation and the melancholy self-hatred I was feeling. Damn Laurent to the bowels of Hell. We had gone back to hunt for him after. It was the only other thing, other than not getting my family killed, that prevented me from persisting my quest for death. If I couldn't kill myself, the indirect cause of her death, I would kill him for physically doing the deed.
But we had never found him. His scent was long gone and the Denali coven hadn't seen him since before he left on his little mission for Victoria. There was no trace of him and no trace of Bella. I had gone back to Charlie's at one point and spent the entire night curled up on her bed, my face buried in her pillow. Even though she had been gone for more than a month, it had still smelt like her. I had almost been able to successfully pretend that she was asleep, that it was her hair I had my face buried in.
Almost.
I knew that Charlie hadn't touched her room at all, leaving it exactly as it had been when she had walked out of the house that fateful morning. I would have happily stayed there, where the knowledge that it was my fault was constantly bombarding me with every breath I took, every time I looked at something that hinted at the life she had had. It was the perfect kind of torture—it tore me apart, ripping me to shreds over and over again. But Alice had come and dragged me out of the house—but not before I knelt down and pulled up the floorboards.
Another of my guilty sins. I had promised her that I would leave, that it would be like I had never existed. I had stolen into her room after I left her in the forest and taken every thing I had given her, anything that was directly related to me. And I had hidden it all under her floorboards. The CD I had given her, the plane tickets to Florida—everything. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't bear to part myself from her completely. I had to leave something of me with her. I don't know what I was thinking. It was pointless, really. She had had no idea that they were still there; she wouldn't have known that I still cared for her.
I clenched my eyes shut as pain spasmed through me. After all the times I had told her I loved her—that I would find a way to die after her because there would be no living without her—how had she believed me so easily? How?
I took a painful breath and opened my eyes, focusing on my hands as they flew over the keys.
I didn't want to give up. As much as I knew I didn't deserve her, that I had never deserved her, I still wanted her. I needed her. If only I could find some way to make her see…
I suddenly realised I had an audience.
She stood, half-hidden behind the French doors Rosalie had stormed out of earlier. I froze as our eyes met. Completely froze.
Timidly, without breaking eye contact, she stepped into the room. She crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously, just like she used to when she was human. Then she glanced over my shoulder and I was suddenly aware of Esme and Alice at the bottom of the stairs. I hadn't heard them come down. I don't know how long they'd been there watching me play. But I turned my head just enough so that I could see them out the corner of my eye, refusing to let Bella out of my sight. If she disappeared again…
Quietly, Esme and Alice left, going back up stairs. Once they were gone, I turned all my attention to the beautiful creature still standing as far away from me as possible. The light breeze blowing through the doors only just carried her scent to me and I breathed it in happily. It wasn't as tempting as it used to be, in the sense that it no longer caused my throat to burn and the venom to pool in my mouth. It caused a faint stirring though, the monster remembering just how glorious that side of her scent had been and remembering now that it was forever beyond my reach.
"Please," she whispered, backing up against the wall, moving herself closer to me. "Keep playing."
I'd much rather listen to her voice, but I complied. I would comply with any demand she would make of me. I couldn't trust myself to look at her without launching myself as her again, so I kept her in my peripheral vision. I was not going to let her disappear on me again before I had a chance to talk to her. Of course, the fact that she was even here, and under her own will, was evidence enough that she wasn't thinking of running from me again. But still…
I watched as she closed her eyes, putting her head back on the wall. Moments later, she clenched her arms around her chest and slid to the floor. I forced myself to stay where I was—until I heard her gasp.
I was beside her in an instant. I hesitated though, unsure. Did she want me to touch her? Just because I had kissed her earlier was no guarantee that she had appreciated it—after all, her response had seemed as impulsive as my decision to kiss her in the first place.
Another gasp and I pulled her out of her cramped ball and against my chest. Her arms shot around my neck, locking tight—another painful reminder of the reason she was still alive. She sobbed, her face pressing into my neck and Rosalie's painful montage played through my mind again. I tightened my own grip, not missing the fact that I was holding her with all my strength—something I had never done before. But I was never going to let go again, not now, not unless she told me to.
How I hoped she would never tell me to.
Eventually her tearless sobbing eased. And she didn't move. She stayed still in my arms, taking deep breaths against my neck. I didn't let go, keeping my own face buried in her neck, in the thick brown tresses cascading down her back. Her body wasn't the soft, fragile soap bubble it used to be. She was still soft but substantial, and far more durable, now that she was as hard as I was—but it was more like human flesh on human flesh rather than stone on stone.
I couldn't stop myself from whispering her name and the moment I did, I regretted it. She drew back, but only, it seemed, so she could look at me. I relaxed slightly and stared back at her. My eyes travelled the familiar lines of her face, enhanced beyond beautiful by the change. But my eyes could only stay away from hers for so long.
I don't know what she saw in my face during her study—I couldn't hear her thoughts—but she put a hand on my chest and pushed me away, a tearless expression on her face that stabbed at me. She stood gracefully and moved away, over to my piano. I stood and turned to watch her, hating that I had no idea what she was thinking. I had no idea how she would react to anything I would say. She had changed so much in the last eighty years, had had too may life-altering experiences, that there was no way that she was still the exact same Bella she had been when I had first met her, no way that she still reacted to the world the way she had when she was human.
She gently brushed her fingers over the keys of my piano and her voice was soft when she spoke.
"We need to talk."
