This was all so very, very wrong. 

This was asking for trouble – no, demanding it, through a megaphone atop a clock tower with a sniper rifle strapped to one’s chest.  It was waltzing into a sunny courtyard on the 4th of July, naked and waving an Iranian flag.  It was blowing a kiss to the SS while adorned in dozens of yellow stars. 

I should have listened to Jasper.  Who was I kidding, to believe that I could be this close, inhale so deeply, and resist the call in my most primitive, guttural self?   

Edward stood, motionless, the full moon trickling light through yellowing curtains drawn half-askew, billowing in the icy breeze from a window quickly shut behind him.  He ran his pale hands through his bronze-tinted hair, pulling out several strands in frustration, leaning against a modest and most likely second-hand desk, watching the slow inhale and exhale of Bella’s breathing as she slept. 

This was incredibly invasive, to disturb the sanctity of her home, of her personal space.  What had made him deign this wise or ethical at all?  What did he hope to find?  A glowing monitor with an email addressed to the tabloids about ‘the incredible teen with super speed and strength’?  Diaries of his every abnormality, lists of evidence assembled before some grand expose?  And how, he bemoaned silently, his fists tightening at his sides, did he propose to stand here, her flesh exposed and vulnerable, and not drain her essence in a heavenly buffet? 

Her scent was overwhelming, and Edward struggled not to inhale, fought the urge to sink deeper into that monstrous part of himself that longed to consume her, possess her as only his kind were able to do.  Wispy tendrils of perfume, freesia and lavender, drifted his way, and Edward found himself recoiling slightly, waving his left hand as if to push it back, push the thirst out of his mind.  And yet, within him somewhere, a different craving stirred, equally guttural and instinctive.   

It was between these two extremes he lay, bipolarity pushing the limits of his normally cool demeanor from intense self-loathing and apathy to the impatience of a small child, knowing only the words ‘I Want’.   

Killing Isabella Swan would rid him of the struggle, set him at ease once more.  Emmett had told him of the intense relief that submitting brought with it, when he had faced similar demons in his past.  No one in the family faulted him that lapse, nor did they fault Jasper’s slips and near misses.  Theirs was a family built on an understanding of the struggle to contain the baser morals of their kin, the knowledge that forbidden fruit always promises to be sweeter.  It was a commitment, not unlike that of the priesthood, Carlisle would tell them, and even the holiest of men were vulnerable to temptations.   

I could run with her.  Take her into the woods and away, out of Forks.  Have her close her eyes and drink, sip the nectar of this fragile flower, leave her for the bears to maul.  I could hide her for weeks.  She’d be dismissed as a horrific kidnapping, the victim of some crazed trucker perhaps.  Perhaps she’d wandered outside for a breath of air… A walk down a dark trail… Bella Swan getting into trouble?  What else would be new?  ‘How unlucky’, they’d all whisper.  No more struggle.  No more family battles over staying in Forks or returning to the safety of Alaska… 

No more shy smiles through tumbling auburn locks.  No more stories through classmates’ eyes of stumbling over her own feet.  No more enigmatic presence, no more puzzle to solve blindly, without my usual gifts.   

Why had he thought it, that day when Tyler barrelled towards her as she froze, waiting to die?  Why those words? 

Not Her. 

It wasn’t a sense of being robbed of the kill, of the enjoyment of her beckoning blood, the ruby droplets pulsing through the jugular tilted in his direction as Bella turned slightly, murmuring about ‘green’.  It should have been a relief to see the torture ended, to no longer feel electricity scorching and arcing through his flesh towards her, as if she were his lightning rod.  But that other part, that newly awakened part that Edward was coming to believe was an emotion called ‘jealousy’, that had adamantly refused to allow anyone or anything to take what he felt to be his.   

Not Her. 

This was sick.  Absurd.  It would be better to kill her than to even begin to contemplate the notion of being with Bella as a companion, a friend, let alone a love.  Rosalie had nearly spat in his face at the notion, such was her simmering rage.  She vehemently argued for Edward’s departure, insisting he was compromising the family, that he had no right to risk bringing an innocent into the realm she had never chosen.  Her words had stung Carlisle, sending him into his room, Esme on his heels, seeking to comfort her love and saviour.  She’d rushed up the stairs, thinking purposely to Edward: 

Trust your heart.  It will bring you strength when you believe there is none. 

His love for his family had driven him to maintain the guise of normalcy, to resist sinking his teeth into the pale flesh before him, the timid woman who sat feet away in class each day, in Biology of all places, where one could not ignore the essentials of human anatomy, what with the charts and diagrams of their textbook.  The Cardiovascular System…   

Edward?  Where are you? 

Alice.  She’d noticed his absence and searched his future, searching for the dreaded image of his undoing all Carlisle and the family had worked hard to construct, the lives they comfortably led.   

Edward, I’m coming over there.  Meet me outside.  Now.  Don’t make me join you. 

A sigh escaped Edward’s lips as he turned towards the window.  A twinge of pain struck him in the chest, and he realized with horror that leaving Bella was as painful as her existence.  A quick leap brought him to the ground beside the pixie clothed in black slacks and a crimson coat, the trappings of humanity.  His own cream-coloured sweater was mere formality; he never felt cold, and neither did his sister. 

“Edward, why are you here?”

He sighed, “I had to come.  I needed to decide…”

Alice nodded thoughtfully, “Carlisle’s worried about you.  Emmett as well.  They fear you’re about to snap from carrying the incredible weight of resisting your instincts.  I left Jasper to keep them calm.” 

Edward sighed, his eyes turning to the shimmering blue above.  Night was truly lonely when one could not escape from life’s dilemmas with the mercy of sleep.  It stalked him, this time of suffocating solitude.  It wrenched the will from within him, leaving his grasping to thin threads tethering him to his daily façade. 

Alice reached out for his hand, holding it tightly, “I saw things tonight, Edward.  Things you may not want to hear…”

Edward turned back to Alice, confusion creeping across his pallid flesh, “What did you see?”

“Her.  Edward, do you really want to know?” 

Did he?  Did he want to know of her corpse, her beautiful, delicate frame askew and torn apart, her porcelain skin ashen and bloated from the inevitabilities of decay?  Did he dare believe Alice’s vision was one of joy, of Edward somehow freeing himself of this yearning to destroy and devote himself? 

He had to know.

“Is she alive?”

Alice’s thoughts betrayed her:  “No..”

“I kill her, don’t I?  I’m a monster Alice… A monster.  I have to do what Rosalie says and get out of Forks, for good this time, forever –“ 

Alice shook her head, seizing Edward by the shoulders and shaking him viciously, a pitbull with a juicy bone clenched in its jaws, “Edward, stop.  PLEASE.  I said she wasn’t alive.  I didn’t say she was dead.” 

Not alive, but not dead?  How could that be possi- 

“One of us”, Edward murmured sadly.

“You say it as if it were a bad thing,” Alice mused aloud.

“How could it be a good thing?  To take her life from her?  The life she is meant to live?  To take her from her friends and family?  I won’t have it Alice.”

“I don’t know if it’s your choice.  The how of it isn’t clear –“

“The future isn’t set.  I need to make a different choice, then.”

“You’ve already made it, Edward; you just don’t understand that yet.” 

Edward looked back to the bedroom window, his mind replaying the vision of innocence from minutes before:  worn t-shirt hugging a slight frame, nestled amongst blankets, hair unkempt and tangled, splayed upon a pillow.  Alice’s thoughts intruded, breaking his contemplative reverie. 

I saw you, too.   

“I don’t want to know Alice,” Edward grunted petulantly, yielding a chuckle from the petite woman beside him.

“Have it your way.  Now, hurry, or you’ll miss it,” Alice replied, strolling towards the road.

“Miss what?” 

A smile, gleaming in the cool moonlight, and a thought before a departure scarcely seen by Edward’s enhanced vision: 

Your decision.  It’s time. 

A grimace crossed Edward’s face as he returned to Bella’s room with a quick bound, landing nearly soundless beside her bed.  In the corner of the room sat a rocking chair, sturdy but beaten-up oak, with a seat that looked incredibly inviting.  But nothing was more inviting than the gently raised cheekbones of Bella…  One merely had to ask the entire male populace of the high school, Edward bitterly thought to himself.  Goddamn that Mike Newton and his persistence!  Never mind that one stray thought Edward had caught before he’d entreated Bella to ask him to the dance, the one about ‘protection’… 

If his blood could boil, Edward would be Mt. St. Helen’s on a VERY bad day. 

“Edward.”

Edward gasped, stumbling backwards and nearly collapsing into the chair.  He’d woken her.  This was incredibly bad.  How on earth would he explain this without further endangering the family?  Perhaps this was the decision Alice had spoken of; perhaps he’d be forced to attack her now, or turn her to prevent her revealing their secrets.  It was then he realized he’d slammed his eyes shut, a child’s game of ‘I can’t see you and you can’t see me now’.  Opening them, preparing for wrath or – worse, still – Bella’s likely nonchalance and preposterous lack of fear, he sighed with relief. 

Bella was still sound asleep.  She was talking from within the walls of a dream, locked tight inside her head, her brow slightly furrowed, as if she, too, were perplexed at the coincidence of dreaming of the man now stalking her in her bedroom.  Her limbs twitched slightly, a ripple of electricity giving way to a gentle kick of her right foot as she turned towards him, nestling deeper into her pillow.  A small smile crept upon her pale pink lips, and she sighed. 

“Edward…” 

The look of contentment, of… peace, or so Edward believed, gazing at her now, was so honest, so genuine…  Despite suspecting he was rather not ordinary, despite his rudeness and unexplained demands for secrecy and lies, his name brought good feeling to her dreams.  In that moment, despite breathing heavily, taking large hits of her alluring aroma in his intense focus, the thirst slipped backwards, receding into the depths of his mind.  In that moment, Edward understood why he’d risked exposing his family of nearly a century to place himself between Tyler’s truck and Bella’s body.  He knew now that it could never be her that was taken.  It could never be her that was lost. 

As much as he wished to consume her, greater was his desire to shield her, to keep her for his own… forever. 

Edward stood there, watching Bella breathe, watching her dream unknowingly guarded from harm.  Her eyelids fluttered slightly, REM sleep carrying her away to whatever beautiful things she dreamed.  He envied her dreaming, envied her sleep; he envied a safe place, a place to be free to do as he wished without repercussion.  A place to dream of Bella, to have her for his own.

Distantly, he could hear the triumphant crowing of Alice’s thoughts and Emmett groaning inwardly.   

Smiling to himself, he escaped through the tangle of tattered lace into the night air, chuckling to himself.  Never bet against Alice. 

This would be difficult, he knew.  It might prove too much.  But life in Alaska, without Bella… It was simply not worth living.  His life was hers, inextricably twined by some unseen hand of fate weaving knots of silk and twine into a bind even his preternatural strength could not defeat.  The decision had been made the moment he entered her room.   

The scent of morning’s approach hit his nostrils, and they flared bitterly.  Time seemed so incredibly prolonged in the hour before dawn, before normal human patterns afforded the Cullens the freedom to move and act freely.  But soon, there would be classes, classes he’d taken dozens of times, and with them, the promise of Bella’s reluctant smile.  In morning light, she was a fascination.  But nights, he knew now, she would be his to enjoy, to study, to memorize in exquisite detail.