A/N: Hi all. It's hard to believe it's only been one week since we posted this story on FFn. (We posted Prologue and the first 5 chapters all at once). In that short space of time, we've made bunches of friends who are reading and reviewing and tweeting. We are having loads of fun so thanks for coming along on this rocky ride. Thanks to our beta annanabanana for her insightful comments, impeccable grammar, tie-breaking prowess and general fangirlish aura.

And thanks to LolaShoes, PhoenixHunter47, ScarlettLetters, FanpireMama and Mama_Cougar for their twitterlove. Come tweet with us!

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

Chapter 7

EPOV

There was no choice to be made upon hearing the news about Charlie. Alice knew, of course, that my mind was instantly made up. Though we did not discuss it further, I was certain she was also on her way to Forks.

And while I knew with absolute certainty that I had to be with Bella, or at the very least, be near her, I wasn't sure why.

What had suddenly changed? I had just witnessed her having a romantic birthday dinner with a man who loved her. A man whom she likely loved in return. What could I possibly have to offer her? What had I ever given her but heartbreak and mortal endangerment?

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind.

My actions were automatic, instinctual, as I called the airline and made my way to the airport.

There was no telling how this would end for me, but I had taken the first steps toward reentering her life. There was no turning back for me now.

~X~

I'd booked the first available flight out of New York and was surprised - relieved - to find Alice was already waiting for me at the terminal in Port Angeles. She pulled me into a brief hug, letting me know that Jasper was on his way too. They'd traveled separately so he could pick up his car in Vancouver, where they had been living before coming to babysit me in Yellowknife.

We took a cab to Forks and sat in relative, but comfortable, silence for most of the drive.

Though we had never talked about it, I knew Carlisle still owned the old house. The yard was overgrown but the property, otherwise, looked much the same. The lockbox still hung on the door, and, after punching in the familiar family code, Alice breezed inside and set to work opening the heavy metal window shades and unsheeting the furniture.

I trailed behind her, purposefully averting my gaze from the enormous covered instrument in the living room.

Entering the house brought back a flood of memories I was unprepared to handle. I was immediately reminded of the last time we had all been together in the airy living room - pink roses spilling out of crystal vases, layers of sugary pink fondant smeared on the walls, shattered china strewn about the floor, the delectable scent of Bella's crimson blood as it soaked into the snow white rug...

I swallowed thickly before striding out the back door to the yard overlooking the river. I paced for what felt like hours, trying to decide what to do, when to find her. There was no way to observe her in the hospital without being seen. Even six years later, the medical staff would recognize me, and the ICU was well-guarded with sealed windows. I would have to wait until she went home.

I raked my hands through my hair, moving at inhuman speed back and forth along the riverbank until Alice finally popped her head out of the back door.

"For God's sake Edward, just go."

~X~

I sat perched in the tree outside her window and tried to muster the courage to climb inside. Although I knew she was still at the hospital - with the dog-boy, no less - inviting myself inside her house, her father's house, seemed to me - for once - like a monumental invasion of her privacy.

Guilt aside, crawling through her window tonight, at this moment, was a necessity. An unavoidable evil if I hoped to acclimate to her scent before I was bold enough, shameless enough, to show my face in her presence. It wouldn't be long now. My self-restraint was abating. My masochistic tendencies subsiding. My bloodless heart pumped now for one purpose. A single need.

To be with her.

It had to be done. I stretched to the window and stopped short, simultaneously hopeful and fearful that it would be nailed shut. It opened with ease. Bracing for the euphoria, the anguish, that traveled hand-in-hand with her scent, I climbed into her old bedroom.

But there was barely a hint of her in the stale air. She had not been here in a long time. Even so, after the six wretched years I spent avoiding her memory, denying my obsession, depriving my lust, each new reminder of her hit me like a swift kick to the gut. I staggered backward, bracing myself on the corner of her old desk as I scanned the room. Reliving the defining moments of my existence - of our existence - that were embodied within these walls.

It had begun in the rocking chair, where I sat unmoving, unbreathing, as I guarded her sleep. Before she invited me to share her bed. Her life.

It blossomed under the purple bedspread which I had nestled against her chin and wrapped around her shoulders when the chill from my body left her shivering.

And it ended there. Under the floorboards.

I clutched my stomach and dropped to my knees, crippled by the guilt and despair that serrated my marble skin like the dull blade of a knife. On all fours now, I crawled to the loose plank of wood and caressed it with my fingertips. I gingerly set it aside, then hesitated.

Please tell me she had looked.

But she hadn't. Of course she hadn't.

Everything was still there. The plane tickets to Jacksonville, long yellowed, from Carlisle and Esme. The single photograph taken of me in her presence. The CD of my compositions, nearly pristine in its case.

Collectively, they were the only remnants of physical evidence that my life once had meaning. And they were here, in her room.

It was fitting. I'd begged her to forget me - to pretend I'd never existed - when all along, the sum of my existence had remained right here in her bedroom. With her. Waiting for her to breathe life into it again.

I was so captivated by the atrocity of my mistakes that I was startled by the low rumble of a car pulling into Charlie's driveway.

Fuck.

I had miscalculated. They were home now and walking toward the porch. I couldn't jump out the window for fear that they would see me. I'd be lucky if the wolf didn't already smell me. I was trapped.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Spoiled by the luxury of time, immortality had made me a patient man, prone to taking precautions. I needed to calm my swirling thoughts. I needed to hunt. I needed to jerk off.

I needed more time.

The mutt's pleas snapped me out of my trance. He was practically begging her to let him sleep over.

Sonofabitch. The thought of him, on her couch, or worse - in her bed - made me want to break his fucking neck.

I was about to blow my cover, precautions be damned, when I heard the silent intent behind his verbal appeals.

She doesn't look good. She's gonna lose it soon. And big-time. I'm worried about her.

Jesus Christ, Edward.

I really did need more time. If I was going to trust myself in her presence, with her life, I needed to accept that in my absence she had come to rely on others to support her. To protect her. I had left her with no other choice.

Calming myself now, I heard her politely refuse his request to stay.

Good girl.

After I heard the deadbolt latch, I turned toward the window, relieved that the wolf was gone so I could leave without being noticed.

I tugged at my throat, aware now that my thirst resembled a slow burn rather than a raging inferno. Alice had left me no doubt that this would be safe, but I was shocked that it was almost . . . comfortable. Familiar, even.

This, I had not expected, and the realization left me emboldened. I could probably stay for a few minutes, just until she started upstairs. Or hide in the closet until she drifted to sleep. Or leave before sunrise, at least.

God, I was a greedy prick.

I would have no excuse for my behavior if she caught me. No hope of pleading my case.

But she wouldn't catch me. I knew that. I had spent countless hours in this house, in this room, undetected.

And so it was settled. I leaned against the windowsill. Closed my eyes. Listened.

She plopped in a chair and turned on Sportscenter, then sucked in a deep breath before turning it off. I heard the waves of her chestnut hair rustle against her sweater as she shook her head.

Her breaths became deeper, then. Deliberate. Shaky. The weight of the day was taking hold.

It's okay, Bella. You'll be okay.

As if she heard my silent reassurances, she leapt off Charlie's armchair and bounded to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets, she was looking for something to eat, maybe. No - something to drink.

She rifled through the drawers then, before becoming quiet. Exhaling in disgust.

Please, just say something. Out loud. What is it you need?

Though I knew my efforts were futile, I focused intently on hearing her thoughts. I stood perfectly still, eyes clamped shut, fists balled tight, longing to hear her. I had gone nearly six years without her, but the loneliness I felt in this moment, as she stood silent in her father's kitchen, was profound.

Let me hear you, Bella.

Just then, she tapped something on the countertop. Twice. Then three times more.

What the-?

"OPEN, MOTHERFUCKER! COME ON, YOU COCKSUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!"

Oh, God.

Oh no, Bella.

The dog was right. She was losing it. Big time. I heard the slump of her body and the smack of her palms as she collapsed, sobbing and heaving, on to the kitchen floor.

My urge to go to her, to comfort her, was primal in nature. She needed someone, and for a split second, my cold heart seized on the notion that she might even be distraught enough to need me.

As if Bella would be comforted by me. As if seeing me would make her feel better.

Even if the idea wasn't preposterous, I wasn't ready. As Bella lay on the kitchen floor, mourning her dead father, I was immobilized. Grieving a loss of my own making. Recalling with horror the last time I heard her cry.

Six years ago. In the woods. The day my existence lost its meaning and the day her life could finally begin.

I was right. I wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for this. We needed more time.

So I left her weeping. Broken. Again.

I leapt out of her window, misjudging the distance to the ground. I stumbled, arms flailing, before tumbling face-first into the driveway. I laid there, writhing, with my hands covering my ears so as to block the sound of her sobs. Her wails. Her hiccups.

It was no use. Sprawled on her driveway, I could hear her as clearly now as I had six years ago during my sprint from the woods.

There was only one option.

I picked up my phone and dialed. "Alice, it's Edward. Tell Jasper to meet me at Bella's. And tell him to hurry."

A/N: Thanks for reading. We plan to post Chapter 8 on Thursday, January 14. Reviews keeps us going! Xoxo. M&V.