Edward lay on the attic floor, blocking out the sounds of his family on the levels below, with the music playing at full volume in the high-end headphones over his ears. Well, he was trying to block them out, but human technology, it seemed, was ill-equipped to meet the needs of the supernaturally undead. He knew that nothing would block out the hum of their minds, but he'd held on to the faint hope of some respite from the noise.

He loved them, of course, as far as he believed that his kind was capable of real love. Yet, as the old adage goes, familiarity does breed contempt. And he was filled with contempt lately – for longer than he cared to admit, even to himself.

He ripped the headphones from his ears, mangling them in the process. Another pair lost to his cursed strength.

Surveying the room that none of the others set foot inside, Edward wondered for a moment whether this self-imposed semi-seclusion was the best way to handle his half-existence. Every book on the shelf had been read and re-read, more from habit than necessity, given his perfect recall. The same perfect recall that left her broken face floating in front of him after nearly twenty years.

If he'd been human, he thought, with their gloriously brief lifespan, the memory might have faded by now, though he was sure it would still be fresher for him than it would be for anyone else. But Edward was not human. Edward was a monster who couldn't even keep the most precious creature in existence safe from the baser instincts he shared with all the others. Their vegetarianism was a farce, he knew now. It changed nothing about who they were; it only spared a few human lives, and rather insignificant ones in the grand scheme of things, most likely.

A loud thought invaded his ruminations. 'Blimey, that's amazing. You know that in nine hundred years of time and space, I've never met anybody who wasn't important before.' Jasper! It was always Jasper spying on his emotions, presuming to know what he was thinking. Edward scoffed audibly. As if a quote from some science fiction television show could mean anything to anybody.

Well, feel this, Jasper, he thought, feel what it's like to stare down forever without the love of your eternity by your side! He focused his grief, despair, and rage, letting it grow into a wave he could picture crashing into his brother where he stood.

'Get over yourself, boy!' came the retort, and Edward twisted his mouth into a devious smirk. If they could torture him day in and day out like this, he would turn their gifts against them, too. It was only fair.

He heard Alice's distinct footfalls approach the door to his room. She didn't speak but did nothing to hide her thoughts, which rang through pure and high, innocent and sincere as a turtledove. 'This has gone on too long, Edward. You owe it to yourself to live again.'

"I do not," he replied aloud, his voice sounding unnatural from disuse.

She continued, despite the warning in his tone.

"You owe it to Bella to live again, too. She would be heartbroken to know you were wasting your years this way. She loved you so much!"

Edward dug his fingers into the deep pile of the rug beneath him, hearing the fibers rip from the backing and feeling the surface of the wood floor compress and splinter. As he heard Alice resting her hand on the doorframe, he briefly considered opening the door and allowing her to comfort him as she wanted. He heard her gasp as she caught a vision of their embrace and the return of the deep sibling bond they once shared – and then her sigh as she lost that future. He decided to turn her away; she had betrayed him.

"I told you never to mention her, Alice," he spat.

The entire house had gone silent. They were listening. If they wanted a spectacle so badly, maybe it would be time to give them one now.

"Edward, no! You don't need to do that!" Alice pleaded from the other side of the door.

His rage finally erupted. The first shelf was down, and the shards of vinyl and glass that now carpeted the floor were immediately joined by shredded paper as he pulled book after book off the shelves, ripping them in half and throwing them around. Priceless artifacts were torn from the walls and shattered or split. Decades of journals were in tatters within minutes. He wanted to stop, but once he began, he could not. He bellowed as he tore out light fixtures and overturned his desk.

He stood in front of the large window at one end of his attic abode with a large carved stone from the jungles of the Yucatan peninsula, poised to hurl it out into the New England summer fog, when he heard Carlisle's voice cut through the wild chaos of his mind.

"Son, that's enough."

Edward hung his head, set the stone down gently, and sank to the floor.

Summer drew to an uneventful close, and Autumn saw Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett begin a new season of high school. Edward again chose to remain at home. Since all that had occurred in Forks, the cacophony of adolescent minds brimming with their thoughts of love, adventure, and bright futures was simply too much. It was a risk he could not take.

He'd long since repaired the damage in the attic and, as the leaves turned, found himself descending more often into the main part of the house while his siblings and father were gone. Esme offered a warm but blessedly unobtrusive presence, her gentle mind and quiet movements creating an atmosphere that allowed him to almost feel comfortable at times. He spent most of his time downstairs at the piano, fingers gliding over the keys, conjuring up the pieces he'd written for his mother and other songs he knew she was fond of.

Occasionally, he would pick up a thought from her that belied her desire to offer active comfort or to speak with him about his feelings and thoughts, but she would always restrain herself. 'When he's ready, he'll come to me,' he had heard her think clearly one day. If only she knew that he never would be ready. The pain of leaving Bella – of leaving her – was still too great to bear. The memories of her voice, her laughter, and her deep, melted-chocolate eyes haunted him enough on their own without being spoken aloud.

One afternoon, as Edward played and counted down the time until his siblings returned and he would ascend to the attic again, he sensed Esme watching him silently from the doorway. Not ready to speak but wanting to acknowledge her presence, he shifted the melody to a shared favorite, "In the Valley of Yesterday." He'd had over a century to perfect his arrangement, and it had served as a fitting soundtrack to his last two decades; he knew that his mother had fond associations with the tune as well. After he played the final notes, he heard Esme speak.

"Thank you, Edward." Her voice was soft and low. "The others will be home soon."

From the modern chaise that replaced his broken furniture, Edward heard the others arrive, file in, and branch off to their own afternoon activities. Jasper had retreated to his study to research some historical inaccuracy he believed a teacher had made. Rosalie was trying to coax Emmett to go on a walk through the woods, despite his protests that he'd already arranged a game with someone online. Edward couldn't help but shake his head in disgust at the triviality of their concerns.

And Alice–

Alice's mind buzzed with a level of activity unusual even for her. Alongside her daily plans, she was translating the Ea-nasir tablet from Akkadian into Northern Michif and then High German and singing an insipid pop song. When had she become so obvious? he wondered. This was something she did only when she wanted to block him from her thoughts. She was hiding something from him, something significant. Given his own detachment from the world and the family, it had to be connected to him.

As he decided to call for her, Alice bolted out the back door and toward the White Mountains, and Jasper, sensing her fear and abrupt departure, was instantly alert and heading out after her. They had both failed to account for the fact that Edward was by far the fastest among them, however, and no amount of foresight into his actions would prevent him from reaching her before her mate did. Forgoing a run through the house and ignoring the possibility of any neighbors' spying eyes, Edward leaped out his window and followed Alice into the trees.

He ran faster than he had in ages, for once somewhat thankful for his enhanced senses and stamina. Not even bothering to dodge limbs and branches, he cleared a destructive path through the thick forest as he followed his sister's scent and thoughts. They were, for now, occupied only with the urge to flee and anticipating Edward's moves. He was getting closer and closer by the second, and no part of her wanted this confrontation.

Alice stopped when he came close to her; when he was about fifty feet away, she turned. She desperately filed through dictionary pages in her mind, defining each word and constructing sentences using it. He shook his head, and her thoughts turned into pleas that he just leave it alone, let it go, 'Edward, don't hurt yourself for no good reason. Please.'

"Alice," he finally spoke. He could hear Jasper approaching; he would be here within two minutes. "Tell me what you're hiding from me."

He stepped toward her, and Alice covered her ears, closed her eyes, and shook her head no. 'Knowing won't change anything,' she shouted silently, and – for a split second – he saw her picturing Bella's tear-streaked face. It wasn't a vision, he could tell, just an image her mind conjured up in response to some other vision. He stumbled – a purely psychological reaction – and when Alice opened her eyes to look at him, her mental guards all stopped as she recalled a vision she'd had earlier that day.

Charlie Swan, older, grayer, and softer around the middle but still very recognizable, stepped out of a patio door, followed by an attractive middle-aged Quileute woman. The sounds of some sort of party or gathering echoed in the background as Charlie looked around, with a slightly nervous quality in the set of his mouth, but overall appearing satisfied and happy. He cleared his throat and looked to be holding in a burp when he turned back toward the woman and smiled. She beamed back with a warm, soft smile that stretched her cheeks wide and created a beautiful web of crow's feet in the corners of her eyes. They looked truly happy.

Charlie's face transformed into a pained grimace as he brought his right hand across his chest toward his heart. The woman's smile dropped as her eyes went wide as she lunged toward his falling form. She yelled for help, caught his arm, and the vision went black. Empty.

Charlie Swan was dead. Her father was dead. Bella needed him.

"Edward, no!" Alice yelled. She had seen that he would go to her now, finally, after all these years. His concern for Bella's grief was genuine but eclipsed by his joy at the prospect of seeing her again, holding her again, and making her his own again.

Alice tried to show him her obviously fabricated visions of Bella scowling at him, angry and afraid, of war and destruction, but he threw those thoughts in the garbage pile where they belonged. Nothing would be better for Bella now than his return and the beginning of their new life together.

Ignoring his sister's cries and the angry, disappointed thoughts of Jasper, who had finally reached them, Edward took off again. This time, he would be heading west.