Chapter 13 – Possibility

Carlisle's human side made an appearance through his sigh. He gently grasped a rogue strand of Amy's blonde hair and brushed it away from her eye. "Would it be okay if I took you home?"

After a pause of complete stillness, her eyes still frozen on the clock ahead of her, Amy nodded in agreement.

"Okay." Carlisle stood up and surveyed her near-lethargy once again, concern flowing over his marble face. "Rest here for a few more minutes, and then I'll take you home." He lightly tapped her hand, then strode out of the room. If he had not smelled the presence of his son outside the door, he would have run into him.

Edward was leaning against the wall outside Amy's room, his eyes more sullen than Carlisle expected. Silently requesting his son to keep quiet and follow him, Carlisle led him into his office and shut the door.

"I'm sorry, Edward. But I won't push her."

"I know. I can see her face in your head," he responded quietly.

Carlisle leaned against his desk, surveying Edward's features. His amber eyes were faded, and his poised stance had lost its usual charisma.

"She's lifeless—"

"She's overwhelmed," Carlisle corrected. "Everything she has understood to be normal and logical no longer is. She's just found out that all the fairytales and all the nightmares are real."

Edward remained silent. He had never considered himself to be anything but a nightmare. He existence was an anomaly – his kind lived to hunt humans, to devour their blood until nothing was left. But he ignored this desire, choosing to live peacefully among them as the hungry itch burned in his throat day after day. And now, he wanted nothing more than for love to transform his world – for his fairytale to become real.

"Just . . . take her straight home. No stops. And make sure she's alone when you leave," Edward said quickly. Embarrassed by his lack of respect, he quickly changed his tone. He did not mean to convey mistrust in Carlisle. "Just please take care of her."

Carlisle pushed his keys into his pocket, but did not remove his eyes from his son. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on each of his Edward's shoulders. "Like she was my daughter." Offering Edward the slightest of smiles, he added, "But I have a feeling you'll be close behind."

"I just . . . I wish she wanted to see me as much as I want to see her."

Carlisle squeezed Edward's shoulders. "It's harder for humans to face those they care about the most."

* * *

Edward waited until Amy was safely inside Carlisle's car until he started walking toward the exit. A blanket of dull light was covering the cars in the parking lot, and the leaves bounced under the light patter of raindrops.

A familiar, but subdued scent caught his attention as he neared the front doors. His head whipped to the left to discover the source, even though he already knew: Wesley.

The buzzing hospital slowed around Edward as he focused on Wes. Dressed in a wrinkled, gray sweatshirt and faded blue jeans, his face was pale and weak, but not tired like normal humans for the early hour. On the contrary, Wes was overly alert, as if he had consumed an unhealthy dose of caffeine. Just over 30 feet away from Edward, Wes scanned the main lobby, his eyes darting rapidly, searching for an unknown subject.

Instead, his eyes found Edward. Widening briefly, his alert orbs nervously darted in the opposite direction, and he hurried out of sight. Flinching toward Wes's retreating figure, Edward wanted to follow him, to attempt to probe his mind for any scrap of knowledge that would help him discover what, until now, Wes had successfully hid from Carlisle and the Cullens. But he refused to let Amy out of his sight.

* * *

Amy looked out the window of Carlisle's car as he drove away from the hospital. The tinted windows made the world outside even more gray than it seemed. Drizzle lightly tapped against the windows and streaked across the glass in a mesmerizing, unpredictable pattern.

"Too bad about the weather. It was supposed to be sunny today," Carlisle said softly, his eyes leaving the road to analyze Amy. As predicted, she did not move or respond. He glanced in his rearview mirror, not surprised to see the silver Volvo a few hundred feet behind. He knew Edward would be listening through him.

"I understand you know about Alice," Carlisle said, trying to keep his tone light. Perhaps a new tactic would summon her voice. "Her ability to see the future, I mean. She's normally quite accurate about the weather."

Amy turned from the window to meet Carlisle's face, her body taking in the warmth generated by his smile. Alice's ability was only one of seemingly endless thoughts racing through her mind.

"Jasper also has a unique talent. He can alter people's moods and emotions, a talent I suppose I wish he could use on you right now." There was a sadness in Carlisle's voice that Amy didn't miss, perhaps a sense of guilt or responsibility for her current state. She continued watching him as he focused on the road, his voice full of compassion as he discussed his family.

"And Edward . . ."

Amy held her breath.

"He can read minds – people's thoughts. He can even see images of people through the thoughts of others. Quite an extraordinary talent. One proven infallible until recently." Carlisle turned to meet her eyes again, enticed by the life beginning to form behind them. "He has trouble reading your mind. Most of the time he can't, but it seems he can when you are very scared . . . or perhaps very emotional." Carlisle considered his last statement for the first time.

"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice quiet but assertive.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he assured. "It means nothing at the moment," he added, happy she had finally spoke. "But it does make us very curious about you. Edward especially."

Amy's eyes returned to the passenger window, and Carlisle remained quiet until he pulled into the condominium lot a few minutes later. He parked the car and turned it off, then met Amy's inquisitive stare.

"I'm sure you have many questions for me," he said, his tone almost apologetic.

"Yes."

"I will try to answer them when I can, but as your doctor, I must first ask that you go inside and get some rest." Carlisle pulled a small prescription bottle out of his pocket and handed it to her. Not wanting to affect her change in mood, he avoided touching her hand so his icy fingers didn't startle her. "This is a sleep aid. I want you to take one if you have any trouble sleeping. It'll last about six to eight hours." He paused as she examined the prescription. "My cell phone number is written on the bottle. I want you to call it if you feel you need anything. Or if you need to talk."

Amy slowly nodded and clutched the bottle in her hand. Looking down, she knew she couldn't leave without asking one question. "What am I? I mean, how could I do that to Jake? To push him like that?"

Carlisle had been hoping this subject wouldn't come up. "I wish I could tell you." He immediately sensed the fear and disappointment in her eyes. "But I promise I'll do what I can to find out." She didn't respond, and Carlisle hoped his answer was enough to satisfy her for now.

He felt his own expression change from hopeful to solemn as he spoke again. "I am . . . ashamed to ask you my next question, but might I ask you to please keep my family's origins a secret?"

Her eyebrows furrowed as he finished, but the rest of her body remained still.

"It's selfish of me to ask you to do this after everything you've been through, but it is for your safety as much as ours. I know it's so hard for you to understand all of this, but I do hope you understand that we do not harm humans."

"I couldn't explain this to anyone even if I wanted to. And I don't intend to."

Carlisle breathed in her words, her courage and faith filling him with the same vigor and resilience that made him want to practice medicine – to relish human life.

"Thank you." Carlisle smiled at her, knowing the small gesture could not truly thank her. "Go on and get some rest."

Amy's legs mechanically carried her up the stairs and into her condo. Each room seemed quieter than the next, which, in turn, caused her raging thoughts to increase in volume. Pausing only in the kitchen to take one of Carlisle's pills, she retreated upstairs to disrobe, shower and collapse into her bed. Her mind was already giving in to the mollifying sleep medication as she pulled her down comforter up to her shoulders. And, just like the warm blanket, the darkness of sleep covered her mind and shielded her from the world outside.

* * *

Edward tried to block the thoughts of his family as he listened to Carlisle explain about Amy, about the paralyzing agent, about the fight with the nomad vampires, about Alice and Edward's confrontation with Jacob at Amy's home, and most recently, about Amy's inhuman strength. He wanted his focus to be on her safety.

"Is it possible she's part vampire?" Esme asked.

"No, that can't be it. I suppose I can't rule it out though. I have nothing but Edward and Alice's memories to go on right now. I am doing some blood tests to see if I can find anything, but I'm clueless, to be honest."

"That poor girl . . . to find all of that out at once." Esme said, her eyes expressing concern over the information pummeling Amy's mind.

"No wonder she's practically comatose," Emmett added.

"Can you blame her?" Rosalie snapped. "Everything she knows about vampires and werewolves, even all the myths, tell her that we are nothing but deadly. Dammit, Jasper! Knock it off!" Rose's blonde hair whipped to the right to glare at Jasper, whose calming mood had been trying to seep into Rose's head.

"I think she can see past that," Alice chimed in.

"She does seem intent on keeping our existence a secret," Carlisle explained.

Edward's still heart ached, tightening his chest. What were they to her? He couldn't imagine a human going to any lengths to protect them. He closed his eyes and tried to picture her, safely asleep in her bed.

"And the paralyzing injection," Jasper said, "nothing is different from before?"

"Only that she's the only one to survive. The others were bitten. Drained."

Edward's eyes flashed open to meet Carlisle's. He had not considered that. His primary focus was always Amy's safety – he had never considered what would have happened if she had been infected with the paralyzing solution without him there to help her.

"I feel like we're missing the point here," Rosalie cut in. "She knows about us. She knows!" Rosalie had risen from her seat for emphasis, her hair floating around her exquisite face.

"Rose—" Esme interjected.

"—and Edward told her!"

"If I didn't, Jacob would have broken the treaty," Edward replied, standing up to match Rosalie's intensity. "It would have created additional conflict with the wolves."

Jasper shifted in his chair, the energy in the room becoming difficult to control. Alice covered his hand with her own to comfort him.

"Screw the wolves," Rosalie snarled. "I don't give a shit about their rules. What about ours? What happens if the Volturi find out?"

* * *

Edward was out of the house as soon as the meeting ended, his legs punching through the wet grass as his mind evaluated the fastest route to Amy's condo.

Their family meeting wasn't exactly productive, but he assumed the purpose was not to solve anything, but rather alert the family. During his journey, he could still hear the voices of his family in his head. It was Esme's words that drove him to run faster. He's so different now . . . he's alive when he thinks about her.

When he arrived at the complex, he circled the rear until he reached the side of her unit and her bedroom window. Unable to see into it from the ground floor, he retreated several yards into the surrounding trees to climb one, allowing him an obstructed view into her second-story window. Ensuring he was efficiently hidden, he stared into her bedroom, his nose catching a mild whiff of her scent.

The dark gray comforter rose and fell with her slow, steady breaths. Calmed by her sleeping figure, Edward studied the portions of her bedroom he could see. Her walls were painted a very soft, pale purple, with white trim around the doors and windows. He saw a small jewelry box a few feet from her bed with a fake purple gerbera daisy resting on top of it.

The remainder of her room in his view was organized, clean, and conservatively decorated. Each item had its place and its purpose. Perhaps this was only another indication that he did not belong. He couldn't explain or justify his purpose in her life.

* * *

Amy awoke just after three o'clock in the afternoon. Rolling over in bed, every thought, every fear, every memory from the past twelve hours flooded her head. With nowhere to go, the flood released through her eyes. She cried until her body was too exhausted to withstand the emotional release.

* * *

Ignoring the existence of this unfamiliar, alternate world, a new week arrived. A steady, monotonous rain greeted her open eyes on Sunday. When she left the shelter of her bedroom in the afternoon, Amy closed and locked every window and drew the blinds closed. Perhaps nothing else from the outside could clog her head if she couldn't see it. Out of habit, she checked her phone. Missed calls from Jacob.

She took another of Carlisle's pills and returned to the dreamless sleep that was her sanctuary.

Monday arrived with the same, steady rain and the same steady ache in her stomach. She went through her morning routine, sipping coffee and forcing down a piece of toast – the same thing she had eaten on Sunday morning.

Unsure of whether she was looking forward to the distractions from work or if she'd be unprepared to actually focus on real life, she forced herself to face the challenge of a new day. Shoving her car keys into her coat pocket, she walked to her door. Would the outside world still look the same as before now that she knew that werewolves and vampires existed?

The click of the door unlocking sent a wave of fear through her stomach, but she pushed through it, opening the door to the rain outside.

The world did look the same. Except for the large bouquet of fresh, purple gerbera daisies on her doorstep. They looked almost identical to the fake one in her room. Kneeling down, she picked up the flowers, her eyes moving from the rich, purple tone of the petals to the small note tied to one of the stems:

I'm sorry if you're scared. I hope you understand that I will never hurt you.
Yours,
Edward

It rained every day. And each day on her doorstep, a new, equally vivacious bouquet of the same daisies appeared, water droplets clinging to the petals. And each day, either out of fear of acknowledging the vampire that cared for her, or fear of acknowledging her own feelings, she deposited the flowers in the trash before driving to work.

Tuesday . . .
I wonder what you're thinking. It hurts to not hear your voice.
Yours,
Edward

Wednesday . . .
Please forgive me. Forgive me for not telling you everything. Everything from who I am to how much I care for you.
Yours,
Edward

Thursday . . .
I hope there is a possibility that you see me in your future. You are the reason I hope for that possibility.
Yours,
Edward

The workweek droned on with the rain, and she tried to remain hidden inside her office as much as possible. Everyone took her solitude as dedication to her craft, even though she despised every photo she took during the week. Only Charlotte suspected a different reason for her closed office door.

Friday finally came. Even though the days seemed to roll into one long, continuous, horrible day, she was glad the week was nearing its twilight.

Today's flowers were different – a gorgeous mix of purple and white roses. She felt her stomach churn as she read today's note:

I do not breathe. I do not eat. I do not sleep. All because I have been dead for more than 90 years. But you are the only thing that has ever made me feel alive.
Yours,
Edward

The sting came to her eyes faster than she anticipated. Her chest tightened, and she dropped to her knees at the open door, clutching the roses to her body. She closed her eyes and pictured his face, his exquisite features and pure, amber eyes. It only made sense that something so beautiful wasn't human. But he wanted her. And she could no longer deny her own desire.

She started by facing herself. Her door remained open at work, and she concentrated on showcasing the world through her photography. When she arrived home, she opened the blinds and even a few windows. The rain had turned to a light drizzle, and she welcomed the soothing sound into her home.

After eating dinner, she changed into blue jeans and a black tank top, then turned on her favorite music as she began to clean her neglected condo. Her bedroom was first, followed by laundry and the living room and two bathrooms. During these tasks, she carefully arranged Edward's roses into a clear, glass vase and placed them on a table in front of her largest window.

The kitchen was last, the steady, soothing beats of her music guiding her movement. After gathering all of the trash from her cleaning spree, she ventured into the lightest of drizzle to deposit the trash into one of the smaller cans beside the already full dumpster on the side of the building.

The figure appeared like a breeze summoned by the darkness, and the punch to her face told her it was real. The blow knocked her into the trash cans before her body collided into the side of the building. Too stunned to see the attacker's face, a second punch hit the same side of her face, the force pummeling her into the to the ground.

She clenched her stinging cheek, the pain coercing her adrenaline into action. She tried to roll over, but the assailant kicked her in the stomach. As she gasped for air, she felt the knee drill into her back, forcing her stomach into the ground. The air wasn't entering her lungs fast enough. She began clawing at the dirt for release, her body quivering for the oxygen it craved.

The assailant grabbed her hair and pulled it to the side, causing her to cry out in pain. But the sting came next, the prick of a needle piercing through her skin. And the numbness began to take over. Her screams were muffled by the attacker's gloved hand.

She fought the paralysis as it coursed through her head and arms first, her hands frozen in their desperate grasp at the dirt.

Not again. This isn't happening again.

With her head limp on the ground, the assailant removed the gloved hand from her mouth. The attacker's rapid, retreating footsteps caused the tears to fall from her eyes without struggle. She would not survive. Whatever was next was surely death.

She felt the cold numbness spread down her back and through her still aching stomach. It would not relent until she was still as a corpse, but her legs continued the useless battle with the injection.

In her fight with the attacker, she had knocked over a short row of small trash cans. All of Edward's flowers were strewn across the dirt – each of the gifts she had thrown out. The mesh of purple, yellow, pink and red daisies laid lifeless on the ground like her own discarded body.

Edward.

Her mind flashed to Carlisle's words from nearly a week ago when he divulged Edward's mind-reading abilities. He has trouble reading your mind. Most of the time he can't, but it seems he can when you are very scared . . . or perhaps very emotional.

Was it true?

There was no time to debate it. With her entire body now lifeless on the ground, it could be the only thing that would save her. She focused all her energy into her mind, imagining her thoughts screaming to Edward, calling for his help.

Edward . . . I need you . . .

Edward . . .

Edward . . .