Okay so I've had a good response so far! Glad you guys are enjoying my story. If you like the second chapter, be a darling and leave me a review. They make my day!

Edward's POV chapter is beginning the day after Bella's change started, on the Sunday. If you refer back to Midnight Sun, you'll see that he decided to leave Denali on the sixth day of his absence. I urge you to read chapter two of MS before reading my chapter, because I think Edward's thought processes will flow better and you readers will see how Edward feels about Bella at this time. It's not necessary, though.

Hope you enjoy the chapter. Thank you. J

Edward

My driving is very nearly idle, unhurried, almost abiding by the speed limit on the highway as I depart from Denali. I will get to Forks by sunrise, on Monday, just in time for school. One of the benefits of permanent wakefulness is the ability to drive any given distance without stopping for anything but gas, allowing myself to skate across the earth to my hearts content. For myself, driving is usually a soothing exercise – if not a time consumer – but in this case it is an opportunity for me to prepare for the temptation that is Bella Swan, a mere insignificant human with significantly mouth-watering blood.

On this trip, all of my thoughts belong to her, an infuriating enigma as well as a fuel to my aching thirst. The frozen image of her deep chocolate, endless eyes, full of questions, still imprints itself upon my brain, veiling over my once perfect vision like the thinnest silk. I allow myself to think about her, facing my most daunting challenge in my time on this earth, head on, as Tanya had suggested.

There will be pain. There will be hunger and suffering, but there will be no death. It's not simply a case of my distaste for needlessly ending human life. Neither can I claim that my decision to let Bella Swan live is for the sake of my family, of Carlisle, my respective father. I cannot lie to myself, not when I am in this solitude, pouring over every detail of my near-disastrous encounter with the girl. No, my refusal to give in to my baser instincts is in no way linked to the sphere of rational thinking.

Bella Swan is full of secrets...and I desperately crave their unveiling.

I cringe to myself quietly, thankful that I am free to think these thoughts privately, unlike that of my family, who are ensnared in the permanent fixture of my gift. If they knew my thoughts now, my chagrin would be unbearable. I know that in reality this Swan girl presents a mystery that isn't worth discovering, but I also know that if I don't get some idea of the nature of her thoughts then I will be forever haunted by her peculiar silence.

It's not that human beings are not respected by myself, or my family, far from it. In my existence, though, I have found that their kind tend to have little depth to their thoughts, in the core of themselves. Of course, there are rare gems among the flock, but I usually find that they are indeed very rare in a sea of monotony.

After over eighty years of mind-reading, it is to be expected. There's only so many different ways the minds of humans can differ. Vampire minds only tend to interest me more, because commonly they have lived longer than most humans could hope to. With age, comes wisdom and humbleness, usually.

I try to justify my curiosity to myself the whole journey, causing it to develop and grow. Who is this painfully sweet-scented woman-child? Why has she barged into my life, a perfection in its tedium? Why has she decided to rain terror on my senses, on my once steady control?

My foot presses more firmly against the accelerator. My drive is no longer quietly pensive. A sense of urgency overwhelms me as I ponder her existence. I have never before encountered a silent thought. Until last Monday, I was confident that there wasn't a thought on the planet I could not decipher.

The baffling curiosity nips at the edges of my mind, impossible to disregard.

If she didn't smell so agonisingly tempting, I would go straight to Chief Swan's house tonight. I would peer past the forest's edge, into the windows. I would listen to Bella and her father converse until I had some vague notion of her secret personality. I would confirm my suspicion that she is indeed no more special than the likes of Mike Newton, or Jessica Stanley and I would suffer on through every biology session until the time came where she could no longer torment me with her scent.

I know that, in reality, if I carried out my fantasy, Bella Swan would be dead before breakfast.

Perhaps, if I first hunt gluttonously, I will have the strength to attend Biology and sit by her, rather than hiding in my car like I had so pathetically done after my initial exposure to the girl. Perhaps I will be able to waste my breath in an attempt to lure her into exposing her thoughts to me, so that I can put my unwarranted curiosity to rest.

I got the impression, from what little attention I paid her, that she was a closed book to those who pressed her. Jessica Stanley was flaunting her like a new pair of designer shoes, content to use her for the attention she so craved. Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie, however, seemed eager to divulge information from the new girl, already infatuated by the prospect of a new body to ogle. If I recall, from what I saw through their thoughts, Bella was much less than forthcoming when it came to revealing aspects of herself.

I feel that it is, if anything, my responsibility to cajole her into revealing the inner workings of her mind. As my family's lookout, for those rare occasions when someone suspects our otherness, I have to acknowledge my duty to protect our secret. I have to make sure that she has no suspicions about us, or the way I behaved toward her, with such unjust revulsion, on our first meeting.

I settle into the drive again, pacified at having established a plan, when my phone buzzes insistently in my pocket. Before the second sequence of vibrations I have the device pressed to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Edward?" Alice's voice immediately sets me on edge, the anxious tenor unmistakable. Instantly I think of Bella, alarmed by my callous nature, having somehow deduced our disturbing reality. Has Alice envisioned a widespread town story-telling, far too close to the truth of our immortal existence?

"What's wrong? Is everything alright?" I speak quickly to the phone, earning a pause from my usually outspoken sister.

Something is very, very wrong.

"Alice?"

"It's Bella Swan," she whispers.

For reasons unknown to me, I slam down the brakes, my father's car lurching to an abrupt standstill.

The enigmatic face in front of my eyes frowns, the 'v' between her brows furrowing further. The translucent image of her wavers, shimmering in and out of existence as I contemplate the idea of her death.

Is Jasper the cause? Did he lose all control, somehow crossing paths with the silent-minded girl when his thirst had gone on unaddressed far too long? Was it Rosalie, ever-protective of our place in the public eye, determined not to allow possible suspicion from such a seemingly unimportant child, who'd born witness to my evident blood lust?

I don't even have time to think about why this affects me the way it does before Alice launches into her explanation.

"The girl...she has been bitten. By a nomad, some female passing through, right by her house, Edward. I didn't see...I just didn't. You know I keep an eye out for others of our kind but I swear I didn't see her coming."

I don't know how I do it, but when I hear horns honking behind me, I pull over on the hard shoulder. I open my mouth to respond to Alice and nothing comes out, not a breath.

I think back to the changes to which I have bore witness, to Esme, Rosalie and Emmett, even recalling my own transformation. I reluctantly remind myself of the burning, the monstrous amount of pain with an intensity that cannot be matched. Watching others go through the pain has always very nearly been as bad as suffering it myself.

So when I try to picture the innocent, delicate face of Bella Swan, contorted in unparalleled agony, I'm overwhelmed by the force of grief that ensues. It's inexplicable, but it is also undeniable.

"Is the girl dead?" I choke, barely above a whisper.

"No. She is changing, quickly."

Moments ago, my worst nightmare had been taking her young life. Now, I realise, that watching her needlessly lose her humanity might be much, much worse. It doesn't matter that her damnation will not be at my hands. The devastation is disabling.

Bella's number was up the moment she arrived. I wonder if she's always been dodging bullets, if her life so far has been a miracle, or if Forks has cursed her.

It has only been a matter of seconds since Alice last spoke, but when I don't say anything, she continues.

"Rosalie is determined that we end it before the transformation is complete. She's on some kind of hero murder mission. I'm scared, Edward. My vision of Bella keeps changing, going from vampire to corpse! It's her only chance at another life and Rose is unwilling to see any perspective other than her own. She's being so irrational that Jasper and I have had to guard the door, to make sure she doesn't spring in and rip her head off!"

Carlisle's steering wheel whimpers under the strength of my clenched fists, leaving an imprint of my fingers on the surface. The growl begins deep in my chest, spilling from my clenched teeth, declaring what I would now have to admit.

I don't know Bella, but the irrational instinct to protect her, in all her fragility, is clear as day to me. The thought of Rosalie laying a finger on her burning body makes my skin crawl.

I selfishly try not to think about the fact that Rosalie might be perfectly justified in her intentions. Deep down I know that most of us would willingly burn a hundred times over to become human, but is this fate worse than death?

Either way, the thought of the girl passing without even revealing a piece of her mind to me causes me to pull onto the road again, intent on getting to her before Rosalie can fulfil her wishes.

"Don't you let Rosalie touch her, Alice," it comes out a strangled plea, rather than a demand. I'm glad that it's my favourite sister on the phone, because I trust her with my raw, unnamed emotions. "She has no right to make that choice for her, not now."

"No, she doesn't," Alice agrees. "I'm not so worried about her, for now. For the most part, she is resigned, although I don't imagine she'll be warm with us for a while. She thinks Bella will long for mortality the way she does and is desperate to give her the chance at...well, death."

"Alice..." I whisper, feeling strangely vulnerable. "I just...I can't...process this. A week ago I thought I was going to kill her and now she's..."

"Becoming one of us." The sound of her voice makes me suspect that Alice is more than welcoming to our new arrival. I wonder, with disarming curiosity, what Alice has seen of her in her transformation.

I close my eyes in an attempt to escape the ghost of Bella's fascinating face, invading my vision. Her wide eyes are burned against the blackness of my eyelids and now they are blood red.

"Start from the beginning," I demand. "Tell me everything."

When I approach the turn off to our house, nestled amongst a wide expanse of forestry, I hear it.

The wailing.

It outcries every other voice in the house, which for the most part are comforting. Bella's voice, which I can hear is changing, cuts through me every time she lets out a cry. When I pull up to the house, I cut the engine, and stay sitting, once again hiding from her.

I could not, in my wildest dreams, have seen this coming. It baffles me that Alice didn't, though.

I sift through the minds of my family until I reach the members closest to Bella. Alice and Jasper are still dutifully guarding the door, although Rosalie is pacing the floor in her room, tortured by the happenings in Carlisle's study. Esme and Emmett are with her, trying to soothe her grief, to rearrange her perspective. She barely acknowledges my arrival, although she is the only one.

Edward.

Five minds register my presence, all feeling a similar degree of apprehension. I don't think about that, though.

My mind zeroes in on my father, seeking his visual perspective on the girl. Through his eyes, I see his hand tightly grasped by Bella's already almost as pale and smooth as his. I stiffen as another round of choked sobbing breaks through her.

She has stopped begging for death, Carlisle thinks, a hopeful edge to his inner narrative. That's a good sign.

Pleading for death is almost always a part of the change. With that level of unwavering pain, like vicious fire running through your veins, the relief of death is desperately sought out by whomever suffers it.

As I exit my car, I hear Carlisle ask Alice how long is left. I listen to her mind, shocked by the sight of Bella opening her crimson eyes to a new world. I only catch a flicker of it, but her face is beatific, flawless, as is to be expected. The grandfather clock in Carlisle's study has been placed behind the leather loveseat, which Bella is curled up on, continuously shuddering.

The clock reads half past eight, presumably in the morning, considering the advanced pace her change is moving. Merely three hours from now.

"About three hours," she replies, brighter than she was on the phone to me. Perhaps she has seen good things.

I watch her every move through my father's eyes as I enter the house, seeing her reaction as her now keener senses acknowledge an entrance. Her eyes, rich and coppery in colour, widen for an eighth of a second, momentarily wary before another wave of excruciating pain pulls her. I feel my face crumple as I watch her cough out dry sobs, no longer able to produce tears.

I carefully breathe in, seeking out her unforgettable scent.

It hits me with significantly less force, becoming less detectable. Her blood is already beginning to thin, absorbed by her tissue.

I think about the faceless nomad who did this, my fists automatically clenching. I know the solitary werewolf will have to be questioned. We don't even know if this she-devil is dead, yet.

"Don't worry," Carlisle murmurs, gently patting her hand. "It's only Edward."

I desperately search the empty space where her thoughts should be, hungry for her reaction. Is she afraid of me? How will she receive my presence, after our less than savoury encounter?

Upon hearing Alice's confirming of the short time until Bella's completion, Rosalie snarls. I step swiftly aside as she bolts down the stairs, flying past me and out the door. Her lingering thought that was directed at me, tinged with bitter betrayal, hangs in my head, echoing.

I thought you'd be on my side.

Everyone knows that, being the odd one out, my existence has been inarguably lonely. Surrounded by couples, I try to maintain the facade that this doesn't bother me in the slightest. I've just never found someone that made me feel so inclined. I suspect that my life will probably go on without a mate and it is something I have come to terms with.

So, it makes sense that Rosalie feels betrayed. A vampire life isn't easy at the best of times, especially in the stark eyes of human kind, but it is even less so when you are alone, without a mate. She figured I would automatically try to forbid Bella's entrance into this dark life and now she is painfully bewildered by my refusal.

How do I explain to her what I can't explain to myself?

When I join the others upstairs, Bella's scent stings my throat in a way that is manageable. I still gulp as my mouth dries, though.

"It's good to have you back, Edward," Esme greets quietly, exiting Rose's room with a forlorn eyed Emmett. From his thoughts I see that he worries for his mate, although he is in no way averse to our new addition.

I nod in greeting, looking past my family, watching Bella through Carlisle's thoughts. A flicker of my expression through Emmett's eyes makes me rearrange my concerned expression. Why do I feel so unnaturally worried for this inconsequential girl?

"At least you won't have to worry about killing her," Emmett smirks weakly, trying to lighten the situation.

"Don't make jokes," Esme chastens, throwing a glance.

"This is very serious," Alice pipes in, siding with Esme. "Bella's parents are in pieces. They think they're daughter is dead. Have a little respect."

Emmett holds up his hands apologetically and I see the shame through his thoughts. When I see Bella's reaction through Carlisle's eyes, I flinch.

"Oh, god, p-poor Renee," Bella whimpers, clutching Carlisle's hands for dear life. "Charlie."

"I know," Carlisle whispers, doing his best to comfort the girl. "I know, it hurts, but it is for the best."

I want to ask if they staged a death, but I think better of it as Bella's tearless weeping continues. My dead heart aches at the thought of her parent's grief, of her own. How could she have possibly imagined what her life would now become?

If only I could see.

Time passes very slowly as we wait, as Carlisle explains to Bella some of the details of our way of life. I notice that he is speedily sifting through things he has already told her and know that she has been informed of the significant details that her change will pose.

Bella begins breathing a little normally, settling as the pain begins to lift when less than an hour is predicted for her change. Alice is thinking about all the new clothes she rushed out to get for her yesterday, having left Esme to guard Bella while she was gone. She imagines Bella, in her vampire form, in all manner of garments, ranging from casual jeans to ball gowns. Trust Alice to be thinking about fashion in a crisis.

Jasper is preparing himself for the arrival of a newborn. He knows that his experience will warrant extra responsibility for her on his part and is apprehensive. He hasn't dealt with a newborn in some time, now. He knows they are ruled by their thirst, unpredictable and very strong.

Esme is thinking about Bella's pain, grieving for the separation of her family. For Esme, her heart is in her family and the thought of losing her adoptive children is beyond unbearable for her. She thinks about giving her condolences to Charlie and decides that the only way that would be possible is if she saw him in town. She knows it would be far too suspicious if she arrived at his home, having never spoken to him before.

Emmett is thinking about Rosalie. His thoughts are filled with worry, which is so unlike him. When it comes to his bride, though, Emmett is all too capable of suffering with her.

Carlisle is thinking about me, which is surprising, considering the circumstances.

I wonder how he's taking this...is their potential in Bella, as a mate...?

I cough, very obviously, causing Carlisle to rein in his wayward thoughts, becoming apologetic. He knows I have accepted that I will find no mate. How could he imagine I would find it in a teenage girl, a newborn?

Everyone is silent as we listen intently to Bella Swan's heart fight against the venom in her veins. I watch through my father's thoughts as her features begin fully developing, sharpening. Her heart shaped face becomes more softly proportioned, her plump lips smoothening, turning an inviting shade of pale pink, still noticeably darker than her colourless face. The shadows that are under our eyes are almost undetectable under her wide, almond shaped orbs, a deep burgundy, now. I watch, enraptured, as her lashes thicken and lengthen, curling at the ends. Her hair goes the same way as her eyelashes, becoming impossibly thicker and longer, flowing down pas her waist, rich and dark, filled with many shades of brown and even red. I want to go in so I can touch those mahogany waves, but I know that would be utterly unacceptable. The last thing she needs is to be marvelled.

Bella gasps as she feels her heart begin to slip away from her, giving two more struggled beats, before giving out. Alice smiles, and everyone stiffens with bated breath.

My heart sinks when her right hand, perfect marble, flies to her neck. Emmett's following thought affects me more than I can understand.

Let the thirst begin.