Author: ThexInvisiblexGirl PM
What if Edward and Bella did go to Dartmouth? AU, picks up from chapter 6 of Breaking Dawn. Rated T for all things Twilight - adult themes/situations. please R&R! NOW COMPLETE!Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Romance - Edward & Bella - Chapters: 26 - Words: 62,411 - Reviews: 728 - Favs: 387 - Follows: 177 - Updated: 06-28-09 - Published: 04-15-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4995702
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: when I realized where I wanted to go with this story, I made a conscious decision not to write beyond Bella's change. Stephenie described it her way in Breaking Dawn, and I don't think I would have done the vampire world justice if I tried to describe it differently. I did, however, want to give you guys a glimpse of what happened next, and this is what this epilogue is for. And I thought it was fair to let Bella close this story, since we only get her voice throughout the saga. I hope it answers at least a few of your questions.
I want to thank you guys so much for keeping up with me and with this story, those of you who reviewed every chapter, those of you who were lurking but still reading, those of you who spotted typoes and grammar issues. I had a great time writing this, mostly because of your feedback. There are a few things planned ahead after this one, so stay tuned and follow updates.
Human memories fade.
This is the only resentment I still hold against immortality. There's something so unjust about it. Memories are all I have left of my previous life. Why wouldn't I get to hold on to them? I can't help forgetting – it's in my new nature, part of the deal almost. They're there, at the back of my mind, but they're blurry, like background music, memories twisted together in an incomprehensible mess, one that cannot be untangled. From time to time, one of them would come to the front, but not for long enough for me to make sense of it. It fades quickly, like a dream; but of course, I can't even be sure of that. I hardly remember the way dreams work now, too.
Edward never forgets. He helps me to make sense of the sounds and images at the back of my mind. He tells me everything he remembers, things that's happened to us, things I've once told him, about my childhood, about my parents, and the little time I've spent at Forks. He excludes nothing, telling it all as accurately as he can, filling each and every gap for me, no matter how small. As for me, I'm like a child, always hungry for more information, delighting in favorite stories, dreading others, and yet I refuse nothing. I want to hear everything, everything he can possibly remember. I want to make sure the memories are not mine to lose.
This reconstruction of my previous life has become my purpose of sorts. As frustrating as it sometimes is, I think it's good for me. I'm calmer than I've expected to be, at so early a stage of my new existence. It takes my mind off other things that should occupy me, like bloodlust and beastly impulses. I think Edward is relieved at the affect it has on me, but I know he's also puzzled. He says he has never seen a vampire with as much self-control as I have mustered in such a short time, or maybe it has been there all along, just bellow the surface during my human life. But I suspect that if I let myself think of it, I would be as dangerous as the rest of them in their first years. I just have other things in mind. I'm too attached to the time before.
The first year was the hardest. We spent it in total isolation, in a tiny village near Tuscany, until I mustered everything I had to know about my new existence. Despite my initial confidence in immortality, I feared what I had become. I feared this stunningly beautiful creature that stared back at me whenever I caught my reflection in the mirror. I feared her strange laughter and indescribable strength and those dreadful crimson eyes. It was quite some time before I could stop picturing Charlie's grief-stricken expression when he had learned of me and Edward's deaths, or my mom's tearful face when she had got the news of our fatal car accident in a long distance call, disrupting her peaceful vacation in Mexico. I'll have back dozens of human memories, and let these visions fade.
But there were other moments, except for those sad glimpses of my previous life. My life as a newborn was filled with revelations. The first time I opened my eyes to a clearer world, with the strangest fire down my throat. The first time I saw Edward again – as if I'd never seen him before. The first time he made love to me – really made love to me – without holding back or being terrified of breaking me. The first time my eyes finally changed color. The first time I met the Cullens as one of their own, finally their equal. There was no end to it.
And now it's 20 years later, and I feel as if I'm yet to discover it all. Edward laughs at me when I revel at this fact. It's like a toy in my hand, whenever something new occurs to me about my new existence. I guess it is rather childish, but I am merely a baby, if you look at it in vampire years. For me, even now, life is a constant search, a constant adventure. I never know what the new day will bring. I guess there are some benefits to immortality after all.
It doesn't come without a price though. I haven't seen or heard from my parents for nearly two decades. The Cullens kept tabs on Charlie for me at first, but then they left Forks about a year after we had. People in town believed it was because they were so broken from the tragic death of their son and his wife, but the truth is that it was just time to move on. I often wonder if my dad has retired by now, if he spends his time fishing or whatnot. I hope that whatever he's doing, he's happy, at least. I hope that somehow, sometime, he finds in his heart to forgive me.
I know nothing of my mom, or Jacob. I think of my best friend often. I still have his bracelet; except for my wedding and engagement rings, it's the only jewelry I never take off. I can almost picture him, reaching 40 but unchanged, still my Jacob. He has his very own workshop where he fixes the motorbikes of the reservation's brats, merely kids like we used to be the first day I brought those worn-out bikes to him. In this vision I've made to myself, his wife is a kindergarten teacher. She's beautiful and kind, like Sam's Emily. She's his everything. They have two kids. Two girls, I think, with glossy black hair like his. He'll be such a great dad. Their time in the reservation now is calmer, peaceful, with the Cullens' absence. From time to time, I toy with the idea of writing him, just a postcard, but I never do. That cowardly part of me is still there someplace, deep within that gorgeous, fearless creature I have become.
In the last 20 years we've been practically everywhere around Europe. We live with the rest of the Cullens sometimes, but for the most part, it's just us. We live in England now, because Edward thought it would be fun to enroll for Oxford. I don't resent his college plans anymore. I finally understand the monotony of high-school life, what the Cullens have had to endure. I'm majoring in Art History again. I paint now, a hobby I've picked along the way. We're happy here, but it's a tough life, rootless for the most part. We make a home for ourselves, we settle in, and then before we know it, three years pass, and we have to move on. We can't stay longer than that. Humans begin to get suspicious.
Edward often asks me if I would have done things differently, now that I know what forever feels like, but I honestly don't think I would. It's easier for me to envision Jacob with his kids than to place myself in a similar vision. I can't picture myself getting older, having children, grandchildren, watching them grow, because I know it's a future Edward can never take part in.
And this is why immortality still wins for me, in spite of everything, because he's here with me. He holds me when disturbing visions from the past come and go, when I get frustrated I can't cry for what I've lost. He tells me the stories of our past in murmured whispers. He's promised me forever, and he's keeping his promise. He killed me that night in Volterra, but he also brought me back to life. And as twisted as it may sound, dying for someone I loved, dying by him, was right, despite the pain it inflicted, and the sacrifices I had to make. I lost my family, my friends, my life, but in a strange way, it was worth it, because I gained so much in return. And I'll sacrifice more, so much more, for another eternity with him – angel-like, achingly beautiful, and forever mine.