A/N: Happy Saturday!

A lot of you are really surprised at how quickly I'm updating, but that's only because I've been pre-writing for like 2 months! xD

Whoo… This is a big one, guys.

…

Beau's torturous, burning screams scarred me to the core. I was certain the sound of his pain would be etched into my brain for the rest of eternity. This was not something I would forget—for a number of reasons.

I was certain I would never experience anything worse than his screams of torture—until he asked me to kill him.

"Please!" he cried, "Edythe, please—just—just make it stop! It's all I want—I just want the burning to stop!"

I choked on the horrible sob, burying my face in his hair. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I breathed again and again.

"Please!" he shouted. "You have to kill me! Make it stop! Make the burning stop!"

Archie laid a hand on my back. "Everyone else said the same thing," he reminded me softly, "You begged for Carine to kill you, too. Remember? His first decision is the one that counts."

"Shut up!" Beau screeched at him.

"Sorry."

"It's time to move," Carine murmured. She'd repacked her supplies into her black doctor's bag—the sutures and tape and morphine were no longer of any use. The venom would burn through his veins and heal any bones that had been broken, any organs that had been pierced, every laceration, and every bruise. And though the morphine might have been of any use if it had gotten into his system in time, it was impotent now. Carine had attempted to dose Eleanor with enough morphine to dull the pain of the transformation, but much like Beau now, the venom had burned ahead of the medication and sealed off the veins.

The pyre that burned Joss's remains was growing, catching around us. Soon, this dance studio would go up in flames, and there would be nothing left for the police to investigate. When a vampire's body burned, there would be no remaining carcass left over. The most they would find of Joss's remains was fine, lavender ash. Entirely indiscernible.

We collected the video camera Joss had been holding when we'd arrived and took that with us as well. I had no idea what she'd been planning to do with the resulting video, and I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. We also took with us the home videos Joss had lured Beau with. It was obvious the tracker had been smarter than anyone could have given her credit for. Lauren had been right to warn us.

Outside, Eleanor and Jessamine had also doused the stolen car in gasoline, and its destroying fire was already burning.

Another plus to being a vampire—there was no way to track us down for our crimes, as we left no fingerprints.

Across the lot, Eleanor and Jess had left Carine's darkly tinted Mercedes—retrieved from the bowels of Sky Harbor International's parking garage. The keys were in the ignition, ready for us. They had taken to the craggy red mountains on foot, to traverse back through the wilderness. They would not be strong enough to sit in the car with us and withstand the pull of Beau's injuries—which would soon heal, but I wasn't going to risk it.

He'd made his choice—and I was hell bent on doing everything to see that choice through, despite his pleading for me to kill him.

Eleanor and Jessamine would collect the Jeep from where we'd abandoned it close to Forks, and they would meet us at home.

Carine swung herself into the driver's seat. Archie slipped into the back with me and Beau.

I cradled him close to my chest, keeping his face near mine, a hand against his cheek. He groaned lowly now, the muted sounds of agony escaping through his clenched teeth, and I tried to soothe him, stroking his face, singing his lullaby, crooning words of encouragement and comfort.

We stopped in Las Vegas to refill the gas tank, and Beau recoiled from the flash of light when Carine opened the door to step out.

"Shh," I mollified him, "We're just stopping to refill the gas tank. We'll be home soon, Beau. You're doing so well. This will be over soon. I am so sorry."

He thrashed a bit as I stroked his visage, hands flailing in the general direction of my fingers on his skin. I knew what this was like—the lack of sensation, the strange sensory deprivation amidst the sensory overload of the fiery venom. I caught his warbling hand and kissed it. His hand wrapped around mine tightly. His skin was cooler to the touch than it had been before, but still warm. Also, it was taking on the subtle pearl smoothness of vampire skin.

I wondered how far along he was now, and when this would be over. I longed for the moment as much as I dreaded it. When he opened his eyes to this new life, would he hate me? He wasn't acting like it now, squeezing my hand tighter than he'd ever been able to before, as the grating, agonized moans slid out through his locked jaw… But I couldn't be sure. People did all sorts of out of character things when they were in pain. I was closest to him. He could have simply been leaning on me for support because I was convenient. I wouldn't be sure of his true feelings until the transformation was finished.

If there had been a hope for me before all of this—however slim a chance there'd been—there must have been a rising tally against such a thing, now. How could the Master of the universe declare me any kind of worthy, when I'd damned Beau to an existence such as this one—had stolen away his purity, his virtue, his warm, soft fragility? For the rest of my life, I would be struggling toward some kind of absolution, some remedy to this horrible breach of morality.

I was a monster for subjecting him to this horrendous half-life. My worst nightmares were coming true beneath my very hands, and not only was I helpless to stop them, but I had aided them in their fruition.

I truly was a soulless monster…

Beau began to panic again as Carine got back behind the wheel and pulled out of the small gas station. He seemed calmer when I spoke to him and stroked his skin—though I doubted that, at this point, he would feel much of it.

"I'm right here, Beau," I assured him, "You're not alone. I won't leave you. I will be here. Listen to my voice. I'm here with you, you'll be okay. You're doing so well, so well. It'll all be over soon…"

He didn't scream now. He breathed shallowly through locked teeth. I was astonished by the amazing amount of restraint he seemed able to show.

The self-loathing overcame me once more. There was nothing I could do now to change any of this. I could not alter the course of destruction and change what had already begun, and never had I felt more regret in my existence. I loved Beau with all that I was, truly I did, but my own selfishness had destroyed him—truly, it had.

In this moment, I wondered which force was stronger of the two inside me: selfishness, or love. I thought I knew.

If I had truly been strong enough to love him in a way that was legitimate enough to spare him, I never would have let things get as far as they had. If only I'd been stronger!

My breath hitched in my throat, catching on another self-flagellating sob. "I never wanted this for you, Beau. I would give anything to take this away. I've made so many mistakes. I should have stayed away from you, from the first day. I should never have come back again. I've destroyed your life, I've taken everything from you…" The wracking sobs overcame me again.

I was so, so weak. So many times I'd had the opportunity to make Beau safe—and so many times, I'd ignored what was right and moral and had forged ahead for the sake of my own self-interest, too weak to stop myself. I would do anything, anything now, to change all of that. I would have wandered in isolation for the rest of my existence if that was what it had taken to turn myself from Beau, so that he could have lived a normal human life. I would have separated myself from my family, doomed myself to a subsistence of loneliness and heartbreak and agonizing pain, if that was what it had taken to keep myself from him.

I would take the cessation of existence entirely, if I could give Beau his life back.

A word shaped breath exited Beau's mouth. It sounded like 'No'.

"He's probably far enough along that he'll remember this," Archie murmured, only speaking aloud for Beau's benefit. It shouldn't be too much longer. See how clear he's becoming? He's going to be perfectly fine.

"I hope so," I whispered.

"I'm just saying," Archie added, "You might use the time more productively. There is so much he doesn't know."

"You're right, you're right… Where do I begin?" There was so much that he needed to be made aware of, and my mind swirled.

"You could explain about being thirsty," Archie suggested. "That was the hardest part, when I first woke up. And we'll be expecting a lot from him."

My voice whipped out, low and harsh, "I won't hold him to that. He didn't choose this. He's free to become whatever he wants to be."

Archie snorted. "You know him better than that, Edythe. The other way won't be good enough for him. Do you see?" He showed me the image of newborn Beau, racing through the Olympic forest, blood red eyes focused and blazing, vaulting into a small clearing, lurching for an enormous stag… "He'll be fine."

I watched the vision play out, the supine grace with which he would move. His savage eyes would be fierce, yes, but there would be something in them I'd never seen before—a confidence, and a joy that was unavoidable… But that was impossible. I had to be imagining things. The joy had to be in direct correlation with the hunt. It would be purely his hunting instincts…

For a singular moment, I allowed myself to imagine what life would be like if Beau did not despise me for the way I'd obliterated him. If he did not hate me for taking his life from him, for taking him away from Charlie and his mother, who he would never be allowed to see again, for stealing all chance of ethical and spiritual reward… If he could possibly see past any of that, push any of that aside… Could we be happy together?

I was reminded again of my own selfishness… If Beau did not hate me, this transformation would be the definite best thing that had ever happened to me—aside from meeting him, of course. We could have forever together…

But I shook the thought off. He would never forgive me. He would never want anything more to do with me when he woke to this new half-life. He surely would hate me.

I was contemplative for long enough that Beau began to panic again.

"I'm here, Beau, I'm here," I promised him, stroking his hair back. "Don't be afraid…" I drew a breath to refocus myself on the task at hand. There was so much information I needed to relay. "I'll keep talking. There are so many things to tell you. The first one is that when this passes, when you're… new, you won't be exactly the same as I am, not in the very beginning. Being a young vampire means certain things, and the hardest to ignore is the thirst. You'll be thirsty—all the time. You won't be able to think about much else for a while. Maybe a year, maybe two. It's different for everyone. As soon as this is over, I'll take you hunting. You wanted to see that, didn't you? We'll bring Eleanor so you can see her bear impression…" Somehow, I could see it, my sister playing up her antics to impress her new little brother… A feeble, quiet laugh slipped from my lips, just a single note. "If you decide—if you want to live like us, it will be hard. Especially in the beginning. It might be too hard, and I understand that. We all do." If he chose to go about the traditional way of taking sustenance, I wanted to be sure he would feel no judgment or guilt in his choice. "If you want to try it my way, I'll go with you. I can tell you who the human monsters are. There are options." I wanted him to have as much choice in this new life as was possible. I would give him what was left of the world; I would lay it at his feet. I would spend eternity making this up to him. Of course, I'd stolen the only thing he likely really wanted, and I couldn't give that back, but I vowed to spend every day of the rest of forever giving him anything else he asked for… Even if he wanted to leave me. "If… if you don't want me with you, I'll understand that, too, Beau. I swear I won't follow you if you tell me not to—"

"No," he rasped.

I patted his hand. "You don't have to make any more decisions now. There's time for that. Just know that I will respect any decision you make." I drew another inhalation when my thoughts took me to the next point. I didn't know why, but the realization sent a sharp stab of agony through me. "I should probably warn you about your eyes. They won't be blue anymore." I tried to bite back the heartbroken sob, but I couldn't. "But don't let them frighten you. They won't stay so bright for long.

I suppose that's a very small thing, though…" These moments were not about my own disappointment or heartbreak, and I shook the focus off of myself. "I should focus on the most important things. The hard things—the very worst thing." I bit down on my lower lip for just a moment, knowing how this would torture him, knowing he did not deserve the agony of it on top of the agony of all agonies, but I worried that if I did not tell him now, and I saved it for when he was new, his anger would endanger him, might cause him undue stress and strife. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Beau. You can't see your father or mother again. It's not safe. You would hurt them—you wouldn't be able to help yourself. And… there are rules. Rules that, as your creator, I'm bound by. We'd both be held responsible if you ran out of control. Oh—" I stopped, my breath catching. "There's so much he doesn't know, Archie."

Again, my head felt woozy and light. The mountains of information I would need to share with him overwhelmed me. There was so much he was unaware of, so much I wished I never would have needed to tell him…

"We've got time, Edythe," Archie reminded me, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Just relax. Take it slow."

How about the rules? he suggested.

I nodded and took another breath. "The rules," I repeated. "One rule with a thousand different permutations—the reality of vampires must be kept secret. That means newborn vampires must be controlled. I will teach you—I'll keep you safe, I promise." And then I sighed, my heart fracturing once more. How many times had I said this to him while he was still alive and well and human? I had broken this promise in the very worst way—in the only way that mattered, on this day. "And you can't tell anyone what you are. I broke that rule. I didn't think it could hurt you—that anyone would ever find out. I should have known that just being near you would eventually destroy you. I should have known I would ruin your life—that I was lying to myself about any other path being possible. I've done everything wrong—"

"You're letting self-castigation get in the way of information again, Edythe," Archie interrupted me. He squeezed my shoulder. It's really going to be fine, he placated me, Don't worry.

But it was a useless mollification. "Right, right." I reoriented myself once more. "Beau. Do you remember the painting in Carine's study—the nighttime patrons of the arts I told you about?" I didn't pause for his answer. "They're called the Volturi—they are… for the lack of a better word, the police of our world. I'll tell you more about them in a bit—you just need to know that they exist, so that I can explain why you can't tell Charlie or your mother where you are. You can't talk to them again, Beau." The stress of the entire situation had my voice coiling tighter and tighter, like an elastic band stretched too tight, about to snap. "It's best—" No, it was not best. Quickly, I rephrased my words. "We don't have much choice but to let them think you're dead. I'm so sorry. You didn't even get to say goodbye. It's not fair!"

The shame and guilt and despair overcame me once more, and I drowned for a long time in the ocean of pain.

"Why don't you go back to the Volturi?" Archie finally said, and my head broke free of the black, churning waters. "Keep emotion out of it."

"You're right," I breathed. "Ready to learn a new world history, Beau?"

I talked all through the night, watching the subtle changes take root in his face and body as we careened across the states, flying toward home.

As I regaled him with the vampiric history lessons that sounded more like dark fairy tales, I watched the transformation emerge. It happened slowly, but surely. The first thing to change was that his wounds healed, evaporating like magic. Beneath my hands, his skin was altering—growing cooler and harder. It would not be long before the weakness of his human body entirely left him.

I stroked his hair, his face, his lips. I held his hand, and as I told him our history, our stories, as I sang soothingly to him, I apologized silently, over and over and over again.

I'm so sorry, my love. I never wanted this for you. I'm so sorry…

.

And then, in between all the stories and lessons and my quiet serenading, Beau's heart began to beat impossibly faster. A living, thriving human would not have been able to handle the tachycardic rhythm his heart was playing. A human heart would rupture under the stress.

I knew what this meant. I recalled this part, how the fire, though beginning to recede from my fingertips and toes, had burned even hotter in my chest—how I hadn't believed I could ever feel anything hotter than the throes of the fire I'd writhed in for days already. Relief came over me. It was almost over now. And then, in the next instant, I was suddenly pinned with fear.

This was it, and I braced myself.

We were home now, all gathered in the sitting room. Beau and I were situated on the couch, his head on a pillow in my lap. Archie had brought a clean shirt for him, and clean clothes for me, as well.

He can change his pants later, he acquiesced. It's just a few drops.

I hadn't really paid his inner thoughts much mind.

"Carine," I called now.

She came into the room then, and listened momentarily. "Ah," she said, "It's almost over."

Beau stared uncomprehendingly up into my face, from where his head rested on the pillow in my lap. I forced myself to stare at what I'd created—his luminous, pale skin, the blood-red eyes, the embellished, beautiful form of his visage. I had been so worried and distraught over the physical aspect of his change—so worried that everything I'd recognized about him would be stolen by the transformation—but I was surprised to find that, other than his eyes, he was as perfect as he'd always been. It was true, the angles and planes of his face were more exaggerated than they had been, but I was pleased to find that, rather than becoming unrecognizable or different, he was still very much the same Beau I'd fallen in love with. His eyes, though an entirely different color—and I would always, always miss the blue—were the exact same shape. His prominent, sculpted cheekbones were the same, and the beauty of them was merely, somehow, pronounced. The strong line of his nose was the same, as well as the contour of his jaw. The same slight imbalance to his lips was there, the top fractionally out of balance with the bottom, but they looked silkier now, smoother, and I knew they would no longer give under my own—if he ever wanted to kiss me again.

I was sure, as well, that if he smiled, I would still be able to make out the dimple in his chin.

Pleasure overwhelmed me, just momentarily, when I realized that he really hadn't changed so much.

"Edythe?" he rasped.

"You're all right, Beau," I assured him. "It's ending. I'm sorry, I know. I remember."

The rest of my family gathered in the front room with us, leaving their various pastimes, their thoughts a varying chorus of anticipation, nervousness and relief.

Earnest was glad his suffering was nearly over. He looked forward to the liberty of our relationship now, the freedom he thought we would have. There would be no more danger, and no more obstacles. And though he knew Beau would have pain to overcome, he was happy for us. I could not pay Earnest's thoughts much attention, because I did not believe we would have that future now, not after what I'd done to him, not after all that I'd stolen.

Carine, Eleanor, Archie and Jess were also relieved that his pain was ending.

Eleanor moved decisively to stand directly behind the couch, her hand on my shoulder. She would be there to restrain him as best she could if he were suddenly overwhelmed, which was wont to happen with a newborn. Something twisted in my stomach when I thought about all of the heartbreak he would be met with in this new life.

Jessamine stayed in the doorway, standing still as a sentry, prepared to back El up if Beau got past her. She remembered the overwhelming disorientation, the confusion, the sensory overload of her new life. She remembered how powerful it had felt to run and leap and glide. She was prepared for Beau to try to escape. She knew how reflexive fear and misery could be.

Royal hung back behind Jessamine. He was angry, tremendously so, but I was shocked to find the tenor of compassion in his thoughts. Royal had never wanted this desolate, immortal life for himself. He knew it had been forced upon Beau in nearly the same way it had been forced upon him. He didn't think he'd stay. He assumed he'd be angry with me, that he'd feel betrayed. If Beau managed to avoid both Eleanor and Jessamine, he would not stop him.

Beau cried out softly.

The sound of his heartbeat raged on, racing toward the end. I focused on the sound, though the rhythm was entirely new to me, knowing these were the last moments that I would ever be able to listen to those tympanic pulses. A lump rose in my throat, and I said my farewells to the final vestige of his human life. Losing the striking swirl of blue in his eyes had been awful, but to listen to the stuttering final beats of his heart was worse…

Without warning, his body bowed, his back arching, as if a puppet master were pulling a central cord. Then he slumped back onto the couch and did not move. His eyes were wild and frenzied with the heat raging through his heart—it couldn't possibly sustain this rapid hammering for much longer.

There was one more thump, a hollow echo, and then his heart ceased to function. The sound that I had become so familiar with over these past few weeks, the sound that had proclaimed his humanity, his fragility, the one that singled him out in a gathering, was gone now. Without it, and without the ability to hear his mind, he was utterly, completely silent to me. These eyes of his, the ones that were so new and savage, were harder to read than the ocean of his human eyes had been—and those had been difficult enough.

Now, in the hushed stillness, he stared without expression up into my face. He was completely motionless.

I held my breath, as did the remainder of my family, in wary anticipation. I did not unlock my eyes from Beau's. He was like a statue, and I wondered, with frustrating potency, what he was thinking.

"Beau?" I breathed. He didn't respond. His eyes and face were blank—most likely he was astounded by all that was new to him. I knew my voice must sound different to him now, as well as the appearance of my face. His new, stronger eyes would be able to process things that he hadn't been able to see before. He would be able to feel every whisper of air on his skin, he would be able to detect every scent in the air. His hearing, as well, had improved beyond possible proportions.

"It's disorienting, I know. You get used to it."

And then his lips parted. "Edythe?" His voice rang out with the clarity of a bell, the perfect bass timber of an arpeggio, the smooth, seductive opus of succulent velvet. The shock of my name spoken in his lovely new voice left me stunned, wordless with astonishment. I had never heard anything so beautiful, and my stomach clenched.

In the next instant, Beau's hand snapped up in a move that was indiscernible, to touch my cheek. The caress was so sudden and so powerful that I knew he would have bruised me if I'd been human. I half expected a fissure to snake along my cheekbone.

"Huh," he breathed, not having realized his own strength.

I inclined my face into his smooth caress, and automatically lifted my hand to hold his there. This gesture of affection was familiar, though the place of contact where his skin touched mine was different. There was no longer any stifling heat between his hands and my skin. We were exactly the same temperature now, but I was surprised to feel that he was still warm, in a new and fascinating way.

For a singular moment, I allowed myself to feel his touch and only his touch. I did not think about the coming consequences. I did not allow myself to imagine that this night—and maybe not even in its entirety—would be the last night I would spend with him.

A small, strangled sound escaped his throat now, and I felt his body stiffen in some sort of surprised response. His hand, where it rested against my cheek, froze.

"What is it, Beau?" I asked, concerned. I leaned closer, wishing desperately that I could read whatever imperceptible emotion I could not comprehend in his eyes. I had hoped, with no small amount of eagerness, that I would be able to read his thoughts once his psyche and physicality were more similar to my own, but his mind was just as silent as ever, and now that I could not hope to garner any information from the former human responses of his body, I was left adrift and entirely clueless.

"The eyes?" he whispered.

I exhaled in understanding, and made a face, remembering the first time I'd seen my own reflection. He must have seen his in the mirror of my eyes. "It goes away. I terrified myself every time I looked in a mirror for six months."

"Six months," he repeated lowly, "And then they'll be gold like yours?"

I didn't know how to answer this question, so I looked over at Carine, who stood only a few feet away.

"That depends on your diet, Beau," she told him softly, "If you hunt like we do, your eyes will eventually turn this color. If not, your eyes will look like Lauren's did."

Beau snapped instantly into a sitting position, his hand falling from my face. But I could not bear to let him go. It was selfish of me, but I kept his hand in mine, for as long as he would allow it.

His eyes flickered to each member of my family who stood with us, and then back to Carine's face. "No," he said, "I want to do it your way. That's the right thing to do."

Carine smiled at him. "If only it were so easy. But that's a noble choice. We'll help you all we can."

I laid a hand on his arm, shocked by the odd electric sensation that coursed through me when I touched him. This sensation, too, had been heightened by his transformation. "We should hunt now, Beau," I said to him, surprised at the strength of his restraint. How could he focus on anything else right now—especially the techniques of hunting? "It will make your throat hurt less."

Something flickered in his eyes—thirst, I saw this emotion clearly—and he swallowed hard. But still he hesitated! "Hunt? I, uh, well, I've never been hunting before. Not even like normal hunting with rifles, so I don't really think I could… I mean, I have no idea how…"

Eleanor chuckled. Is this kid for real? Man, he's hilarious!

I smiled at her humor. "I'll show you," I assured him, "It's very easy, very natural. Didn't you want to see me hunt?"

"Just us?"

Immediate confusion coursed through me, and then I realized that he must want to be alone so he could berate me for the way I'd destroyed him. He didn't want to yell at me in front of my family, and all of it made sense suddenly—the touching, the cordiality…

Carefully, I masked my expression. "Of course. Whatever you want. Come with me, Beau."

Edythe, I don't think it's a good idea to go alone…

I can tag along. It's no big deal. Don't you want someone else there if…?

But I tuned my sisters' thoughts out as I jumped to my feet, my hand still in Beau's. He could easily wrench his from mine, but he held on. I suspected this was due to the formality he was upholding. He must not want to embarrass me in front of my family, and I appreciated that.

He bounded up immediately after me. I led him around the couch, dashing for the glass back doors.

But he pulled me to a sudden halt, and when I glanced back at him, he was staring into the reflective surface the south glass wall made. Outside, it was dark, and the lights from inside the house made the windows as smooth as a mirror.

I remembered how much room I'd suddenly found inside my head as a newborn, how easily I'd been distracted… I stood beside him and watched him stare at his new body in the mirror. It was difficult to decipher his reaction to his new appearance. I funneled in to Jessamine's mind, so I could interpret his mood through her filter. His attitudes seemed to flow from shock, to pleasure, to distress, back to disorientation.

Jess braced herself, and El did too, in response. They prepared to contain him.

But all he said was, "Whoa."

He captured my eyes with his in the reflection.

"It's a lot," I acknowledged.

He took a deep breath and nodded. Jessamine felt his tensed mood retract immediately, and it baffled her. "Okay," he said, entirely self-possessed now.

How does he do that?! she puzzled. At any rate, it won't last for long. You'd better go. Part of her internal discourse was sullen, but I didn't take the time to unearth the reason behind it.

I pulled on Beau's hand again, realizing that no longer was I able to drag him along behind me as I'd formerly done. He held his own against me now, and I was surprised by the pleasure and desire that flooded through me at the realization. If, by some enormous miracle, he accepted this new life and wanted to spend it with me, even after all that I'd done, there would be no more reason to be careful.

I led Beau out onto the sloping back lawn. The clouds were too thick tonight to make out the moon or stars, but despite their impermeable cover, we could see our surroundings clearly.

"Whoa," Beau gasped, "That is so cool."

I glanced at him in surprise. For someone who was about to castigate me, he was surprisingly composed.

"We're going to have to go a ways out into the woods," I said to him, and, in partial, to my family, who were watching from the back windows. Earnest was concerned, unsure if I could handle a newborn's unpredictable ways by myself. It took all of Eleanor's restraint to stay where she was, and not follow us. She, too, did not think I would be able to contain him, if something were to go wrong.

It was probably true. For months, Beau would be stronger than anyone else in the family. Even El, with her super strength, would have a hard time restraining him.

But I didn't want them to be here for this.

"Right. So there aren't any people around," Beau recalled now, "Got it."

Another jolt of wary surprise flashed through me. We were alone now. What was with him keeping up the polite charade? He must have not felt comfortable dropping the mask while we were still so close to the house…?

"Follow me." I turned and zipped down the yard toward the river. I planted my back foot and pushed off, soaring through the air over the body of water, and landed amongst the trees beyond.

"Really?" Beau called after me.

I laughed. "I promise, it's easy," I responded.

He hesitated for a moment, and then I heard him sigh. I slid forward so I could see him through the trees. And then he began to run toward the river. I was stunned by the easy grace with which he moved. It was clear that his awkward clumsiness had burned away with every other indication of his human frailty. I paralleled a thousand different comparisons in my mind for the way in which he moved—as sinuous as a lion, lissome as a stag, smooth as a serpent in water, as undulating as a panther stalking his prey, as dexterous as a lynx…—no comparison did his motions justice.

In the same way as I had done, he planted his foot against the flat boulder on the embankment of the river—fracturing it in half as he pushed off—and he soared over the river, as regal and graceful as an eagle. I felt a sudden note of anxiety as I watched him fly over the fifty-foot wide expanse. The raw power in his new legs had sent him vaulting twice the distance necessary, and he would be landing in the forest beyond me, where I had not yet scouted. He may damage the trees, or scent something—possibly a human—and be off before I could reach him.

I turned and sprinted through the trees so I could catch up with him.

The sound of his landing was nearly silent, and I was appalled. He had taken down no trees, had caused no resulting destruction to the forest around him. I was absolutely astounded by his composition and skill. He was an absolute natural!

"Holy crow," I heard him whisper.

When I reached him he wheeled toward me and said, "We have to do that again!"

His tone was so undeniably enthusiastic. There was a strange, exhilarated light in his eyes. I could detect no hint of his had-to-be unbearable thirst, no resentment, fury or betrayal. There was nothing in his expression except eagerness and the realization of the fresh supremacy of his newborn abilities. I stared, dumbstruck, and entirely, devastatingly confused.

He laughed, and under any other circumstance, the sound would have blown me away. He sounded so wholly, beautifully… happy—unbridled, even. "What do you want to know?" he asked, "I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

I felt the corners of my lips pull down. "I don't understand," I admitted, "You're… in a very good mood."

"Oh," he said, his smile fading. "Is that wrong?"

No, not wrong—but contrary to what any of us had formerly believed about or suspected of a newborn before… "Aren't you incredibly thirsty?" I asked him.

I saw the muscles in his throat convulse unconsciously. "Yes," he said, "When I think about it."

Think about it? Ah. And then I realized. The thirst must come as secondhand to the other painful matters on his mind. I prepared myself for the shouting, the despair, and the absolutely justified anger.

"If you want to do this first, that's fine, too."

But he only stared at me blankly. "Do this? Do what?" he asked tonelessly.

I stared at him skeptically. Why was he playing this game? Knowing it was a wasted effort, once again, I probed the titanium boundaries of his mind. I was not surprised when I gained no access, but nevertheless, disappointment flooded me.

I threw my hands up, surrendering. "You know, I really thought that when your mind was more similar to mine, I'd be able to hear it. I guess that's never going to happen."

"Sorry," he said.

I laughed, a hard note of disbelief. So that hadn't changed. Still apologizing for absolutely unnecessary occurrences! Never before had he ever had reason to be less apologetic than he had reason to now!

"Honestly, Beau."

His expression remained vacant, as if, truly, he had nothing to say to me. "Can you please give me a clue as to what we're talking about?" he asked.

What?! I had never been so thrown in my life.

"You wanted us to be alone," I reminded him.

"Uh, yeah," he said.

"Because you had some things you wanted to say to me…?" I hinted, and reflexively, I tensed again, fortifying myself against the onslaught.

Was this his ploy? Did he really want me to do all the talking—to admit every wrong, to confess every sin? Was this his way of punishing me?

"Oh. Well, I guess there are things to say. I mean, there's one important thing, but I wasn't thinking about that." I waited, wild with maddening bewilderment. "I wanted to be alone with you because… well, I didn't want to be rude" As I'd suspected "but I also didn't want to do this hunting thing in front of Eleanor." As I had not suspected…! "I figured," he continued as I went numb with shock, "there was a good chance I would screw something up, and I don't know Eleanor all that well yet, but I have a feeling she would find that pretty funny."

I felt frozen with disbelief. "You were afraid Eleanor would laugh at you? Really, that's all?" I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it, and the wary caution remained. I was still awaiting his wrath.

"Really," he confirmed. "Your turn, Edythe. What did you think was happening?"

I paused, humiliation sinking in. "I thought… you were being a gentleman. I thought you preferred to yell at me alone rather than in front of my family."

He went as still as a statue, his own shock pinning him to the spot. "Yell at you? Edythe—oh!" he recalled, "You're talking about all that stuff you were saying in the car, right? Sorry about that," he apologized, "I…"

Suddenly, I felt like the newborn. The frustration exploded out of me. "Sorry?! What on earth are you apologizing for now, Beau Swan?!"

He shrugged. "I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn't. I mean, I couldn't even really concentrate—"

"Of course you couldn't concentrate—!" I interrupted him.

"Edythe!" he barked, and I went silent, suddenly cautious. He closed the space between us and put his hands on my shoulders. His hands pressed just a little too hard, but I couldn't move. "You'll never know what I'm thinking if you keep interrupting me."

Right. He was right. Of course he was. I forced myself to calm down, and then nodded at him to continue.

"Okay. In the car—I wanted to tell you then that you didn't need to apologize, I felt horrible that you were so sad." He felt horrible for my suffering?! "This isn't your fault—"

Of course this was my fault! Every insignificant facet of it was my fault, and I started to say so, but he put his finger on my lips, halting my protestations.

"And it isn't all bad." Isn't. All. Bad? This time I couldn't speak. "I'm… well, my head is still spinning" Mine, too. "and I know there are a million things to think about and I'm sad, of course, but I'm also good, Edythe. I'm always good when I'm with you."

I could only gape at him for a very long moment. It isn't all bad… I'm sad, of course… I'm always good when I'm with you…

It took me a very long moment to process his words. The impossibility of all of this was so entirely overwhelming. He wasn't reacting in the way I thought he would have—under completely acceptable sanctions, by the way. How was it possible that he was not angry with me? My mind twisted and whirled as everything shifted and warbled. Was it possible that he was not angry… That he did not resent me for what I'd done to him…? I couldn't quite make myself trust it.

I reached up to pull his finger away from my lips. He let me, though I knew he could have easily resisted.

"You aren't angry at me for what I've done to you?" I needed to ask the question outright, because I didn't know if I could truly comprehend the turn our conversation had taken if I didn't.

"Edythe, you saved my life! Again. Why would I be angry? Because of the way you saved it? What else could you have done?"

What else could I have done? He was acting like the circumstances that had led to his death and damnation had been completely unavoidable! Of course they hadn't been! There had been a million other options. For one, I could have been stronger. I had let my weakness rule too many times. I could have left that first day and never turned back! I could have left him while he was still human—there had been opportunities enough! I should have turned my back on him the minute that first near-blunder had occurred! I never should have taken him to the meadow. I never should have kissed him. I never should have stayed the night—or any of the nights before that, for that matter—I never should have taken him to meet my family, never should have told him our stories and lore, and I never should have taken him to that damned baseball game! I never should have separated myself from him, when I'd known it was the blackest kind of wrong, but I never would have needed to guard his life like that if I'd never come back that first day…

I huffed in frustration. "How can you…?" I trailed off, distracted by the swarming, incomprehensible, whirling blur of my thoughts. "Beau, you have to see that this is all my fault." I didn't want to do this—I didn't want to point out all my faults, because truly, he was not mad in this instant. But surely, he would be, once I made all the reasons clear to him—reasons he maybe hadn't thought of yet. "I haven't saved your life, Beau, I've taken it from you. Charlie—Renee—"

Again, he put his finger over my mouth to stop me from talking. I stared at him, breathing in his scent. It was Beau, the way it always had been—the scent of his skin, the aroma of his hair… But the piercing, burning scent of his blood was gone. I was surprised that he was just exactly the same, all except for the horrible temptation of his blood. I had expected to miss more of the things this new half-life had stolen from him.

"Yes," he said. "It's hard, and it's going to be hard for a long time. Maybe forever, right? But why would I put that on you? Joss is the one who… well, who killed me. You brought me back to life."

No. He was missing the point. I pushed his hand away. "If I hadn't involved you in my world—"

He interjected my words with a laugh. I was stunned, completely thrown. Why was he laughing right now?! Was mental instability something that could carry over from human life to immortal life? Was that why his feeding priorities were so convoluted?

"Edythe—if you hadn't involved me in your world, Charlie and Renee would have lost me three months earlier."

I only stared at him, scowling. That absolutely was not a sure thing. It was very likely that he would have been hurt, but it was also very likely that the hospital staff would have treated him very capably, and he would have gone on to lead a normal, human life. What was a sure thing, was that if I had been there in the parking lot—and had come back when I shouldn't have—and I had stood by and allowed the accident to happen, there was absolutely no doubt that I would have thoroughly destroyed any chance of survival he might have had.

Why couldn't he see that I had done everything wrong? I had taken so much from him!

He was speaking again: "Do you remember what I said when you saved my life in Port Angeles? The second time, or third. That you were messing with fate because my number was up?" Yes, I did. "Well… if I had to die, Edythe… isn't this the most amazing way to do it?"

I could see now that he would never perceive this life in the way that I did. And suddenly, the whirling, dizzying spinning in my head came to a standstill. I realized, with a jolt, that aside from the dark shadow of my black wickedness, the incredible wrongness I'd done to him—that apparently only I was upset about—that this was the best night of my entire existence. How was it possible to get every single thing I'd ever wanted, as well as all the things I'd never thought to ask for, in the same night?

Could he really not be angry with me? Could he really be as happy as he said he was?

As I stared into his bright, newborn eyes, I could see the answer clearly. No. He was not upset. The strange new light I'd seen in his eyes before was not anger, was not the pure rabid thirst of a new vampire, but joy. A deeper joy than I had ever seen in him before. Was it true? He was telling me it was so…

I shook my head in awed disbelief. "Beau, you are amazing," I said quietly.

"I guess I am now."

"You always have been," I argued.

He didn't reply to that, but there was something there in his expression—something he was holding back.

"What is it, Beau?"

"Just…" He paused. "Something Joss said." He flinched when he spoke her name.

Fierce rage tore through me, despite the fact that I knew she was dead and would no longer bother him. I remembered the video I'd watched with Archie, and all the lies she'd told him. All her wicked, scheming ways. "She said a lot of things," I spit through clenched teeth.

"Oh." His brows knit together in an expression that resembled anger for only a sixteenth of a second, and then smoothed over. "You saw the tape."

More than the fury, more than the wrath, was the pain. The pain of what she'd done to him, the ways she'd hurt him… I felt my face lose its color at the memory. "Yes, I saw the tape," I told him.

"When?" he asked, "I didn't hear—"

"Headphones."

"I wish you hadn't—"

I shook my head at him. "I had to," I insisted. "But forget that now. Which lie were you thinking of?"

He hesitated for a very long moment. "You didn't want me to be a vampire," he finally said.

Oh. Not a lie. And now I was confused. "No, I absolutely did not."

"So that part wasn't a lie," he confirmed, and there was agony in his expression again… Why? "And you've been so upset… I know you feel bad about Charlie and my mom, but I guess I'm worried that part of it is because, well, you didn't expect to have me around very long, you weren't planning for that—" I opened my mouth to protest immediately, but then his entire hand covered my lips, hindering my protestations. Fury bolted through me, and suddenly, I wanted to bite that hand. How dare he stop me from assuring him that this was not what I had been thinking?! "Because if that's what it is, don't worry," he continued, speaking the words so fast they blurred together, "If you want me to go away after a while, I can. You can show me what to do so I won't get either of us in trouble. I don't expect you to put up with me forever. You didn't choose this any more than I did. I want you to know that I'm aware of that."

I waited, very impatiently, for him to remove his hand. When he did, I snarled softly at him, flashing my teeth. "You're lucky I didn't bite you. The next time you put your hand on my mouth to say something so completely idiotic—and insulting—I will," I threatened.

"Sorry," he murmured, and there was pain in his face.

Could he believe these lies with any sort of conviction?! Clearly, he did. His expression told me as much, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the rampage of warring emotions. There was pain, there was guilt, there was joy, there was shame.

I could not resist stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I pulled my body to his flawless, indestructible, new one. For the briefest of moments, I concentrated on the firmness of his chest, his smooth, incandescent skin, and the scent that was all Beau and none of the human, that came off that skin…

But I forced myself to focus.

I rested my cheek to the place where his silent heart lay, and tilted my chin up so I could look at him.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Beau," I told him quietly. "This—having you with me, getting to keep you here—it's like I've been granted every selfish wish I've ever had. But the price for everything I want was to take the exact same thing away from you. All of your life." Could he sense that my voice was trembling under the strain of the emotion? "I'm angry with myself, I'm disappointed in myself. And I wish so much that I could bring that tracker back to life so that I could kill her myself, over and over and over again…" My teeth clenched together, and I had to shake off the imaginings so I could continue. "The reason I didn't want you to be a vampire wasn't because you weren't special enough—it was because you are too special and you deserve more." I spoke with as much ferocity as I could muster, which wasn't difficult. He had to understand this. It was vital. "I wanted you to have what we all miss—a human life. But you have to know, if it were only about me, if there were no price for you to pay, then tonight would be the best night of my life. I've been staring forever in the face for a century, and tonight is the very first time it's looked beautiful to me. Because of you.

Don't ever think again that I don't want you," I pleaded. "I will always want you. I don't deserve you, but I will always love you. Are we clear?"

In answer to my soliloquy, his face broke into a grin—and I was delighted to see that the dimple in his chin was still there.

"So that's okay, then," he said.

I grinned back at him. What an understatement. "I'd say so."

"That was the only important thing I wanted to say," he said, "Just—I love you. I always will." The waves of bliss rose higher and higher inside of me, lifting my heart into my throat. "I knew that from pretty early in. So, with that being how things are, I think we can work out the rest."

As he took my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me, the bliss rose up over my head, pulling me under. I did not come up for air.

Kissing him in this new, unexplored way was electrifying. Initially, I did not think of the impossibility of such a thing—that he would have retained the kind of desire for me he'd held in his human life—that his new thirst was not in complete overdrive.

For many long moments, I only focused on the sensation of his body against mine, the way one of his hands fisted in my hair, and the other one laid flat against the swell of my hips, crushing me to his chest.

He felt so different in this new, strong body—and yet, impossibly, the very same as he always had. All of his frailty and weakness was gone, but his shape was still there. He kissed me with abandon now, and I returned the fervor. No longer did his lips yield and shape themselves around mine; instead, they held their own. No longer was his flesh pliant and forgiving beneath my hands. His body was capable and powerful and steady.

All of the feelings that had been torturing me for days released with a whoosh, like a dam being loosened, like a cup running over… They flowed away in place of this impossible, all-consuming joy and desire. I was happy, truly happy in a way I never had been before.

The liberty was unbelievable.

Finally, I broke away, finding that it was a struggle to do so—not only because I desired to press myself closer to him, but because his strength was so much larger than my own at present.

I laughed in joyful incredulity. "How are you doing this? You're supposed to be a newborn vampire and here you are, discussing the future calmly with me, smiling at me, kissing me! You're supposed to be thirsty and nothing else." I was in awe of his extreme composure.

"I'm a lot of else… But I am pretty thirsty, now that you mention it," he said.

Now that I think about it? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and stretched up to press my lips to his once, solidly. Of course, I should have expected this. Since when had Beau been anything but exceedingly resilient and brilliantly unanticipated?

"I love you," I told him. "Let's go hunt."

I took his hand and tugged. He relented, and we shot like two silver bullets into the trees.

…

A/N: Ta-da! Tell me what you thought of the final original chapter!

This was pretty intense to write. Gah.

Stay tuned for the alternate ending now, and make sure to have me in your author alerts so you'll be notified when 'Darkest Hour' New Moon through Edythe's eyes comes out!

Thank you, unendingly, for all of your support and love, readers! xo