A/N:

I hope you all enjoy my second journey into Twilight Fan Fiction. I look forward to hearing your comments, thank you for reading!

Thanks to my beta, Rpattzlawyer and my pre-reader, buhbeesgirl! I appreciate you sticking with me!

The canon characters belong to SM. All song lyrics and literary references are property of their respective owners. All original content in this story, including the plot of this story and any non-canon characters, belong to me. No copying or reproduction of this original, copyrighted material is permitted without my express written authorization.

"I wake to sleep and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go."

~Roethke

Is this some sort of sick joke? This can't really be happening. The constant exhaustion she feels never really lets her go, but she rolls over and looks out the window in an effort to identify the source of the noise that woke her. Bella rubs her eyes, almost unwilling to accept this disturbance in her precious routine. The house she lives in is the only house on this street, and there are never any noises. Eventually, her eyes catch a glimpse of the answer she is looking for. Am I asleep or awake?

The dense woods next to her house are occupied by what sounds like a bulldozer. It uproots trees and moves the earth. The trunks crack in protest, and stubborn boulders push back against the machine.

Thud. Slam. Sreech. Crack. It leaves a path of destruction.

More importantly, it wakes Bella up—on a Saturday. She wonders who has purchased the neighboring plot of land. This house has stood alone and isolated for as long as she can remember.

She sighs and stretches and succumbs to the fact that her only day to sleep in is ruined. But Bella is no stranger to disappointment. She rises from her squeaky bed, dresses, and then goes downstairs to make breakfast for one.

A man steps off a plane and is greeted by familiar sights. Things that are constant and never change. It should be comforting. He looks out of place. A striking face in a sea of faceless strangers. A designer suit among flannel shirts. He wonders if the choice he has made is the right one, but will allow himself to feel no regret. He gets into a limousine and stares out the window at the endless, blurry green. I'm not running, I'm moving on. He lies to himself and he believes the lie.

"Rose, I don't want to go out. I just don't have the energy," Bella speaks softly from behind her newspaper.

"You're thirty, Bella. Not eighty. You can't stay locked in this house forever. It's not normal."

She puts down the paper. "Normal, Rosalie? Did you really just say that? Nothing is normal about me," she mumbles and returns to her reading, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb against her empty ring finger.

"You know what I mean, Bella. You need to get out of here. Meet people. This house is crumbling around you."

"This is Forks, Rose. I think I've met everyone there is to meet," she states flatly, dismissively.

"I don't know about that, Bella. A lot changed when you were away."

Bella pushes her chair from the table and tosses the paper in the trash.

"Tell me about it."

"You're getting married? Seriously?" he asks. He is no longer in a limousine. He's wearing jeans and dragging his hand across his unshaven face. He looks more like a man who belongs in a small town.

"I know. It's hard to believe. I never thought I could be tied to just one girl, but wait 'till you meet her. She's amazing. " Emmett cracks open a beer for his friend.

A friend that he hasn't seen in ten years, and who he has barely spoken to in that time. Not because he didn't miss him, but because Edward is a failure at correspondence, and had no real desire to connect with the people from his old—now seemingly ancient—life.

Bella walks out of her father's house—her house—and gets in her father's truck—her truck. Sleep still has its arms around her, and she tries to shake them off as she backs down the driveway.

She looks down the street and spots it, her enemy, the bulldozer that woke her up on Saturday. It now sits quietly at the side of the road, resting. She narrows her eyes at it, revs the engine, and shifts the truck into drive.

The truck rumbles into the town gas station, as it has every morning for the past six months. Only one thought repeats through Bella's brain- coffee coffee coffee.

She walks toward the glass doors, and then strikes her palm against her forehead. Wallet.

She turns abruptly to fetch her purse, and stumbles directly in to the person behind her. She steps back and rubs the tip of her nose. It burns from banging into this man's chest. "I'm sorry, excuse me," she says.

But the man says nothing.

She looks up at him. He has short, mussed-up hair, and a slight beard has grown across his chiseled features. His fingernails are dirty, and his eyes…

Bella is frozen in the storm of this mans eyes. A cloudy blue, like a sky that's waiting for rain to come. They cut into her, and she can't look away. Neither does he. Her heart pounds, and the moment is infinite.

He touches her arm, and she takes a sharp breath. Am I asleep, or awake?

She opens her mouth to speak, but she isn't given a chance. The dreamlike quality of this moment persists as he takes her elbow in his firm grip. Still silent, he gently guides her out of his path. Then, he walks right past her into the gas station.

Bella is dazed. She looks at him over her shoulder and watches him walk away. He doesn't look back. Still, she watches, as he takes an orange juice from the cooler and begins to drink it before he's paid.

Suddenly, she feels embarrassed and quickly retreats to her truck. She turns the key. Her coffee is forgotten as the truck speeds down the country road.

Edward sits, examining his blueprints. He places several calls, checking on shipments of lumber and steel. He consults with the contractor who will lay the foundation. Mundane tedium. He wants to let it permeate through him. He runs his fingers through his hair. All of this work and it's not working.

Deep inside of him, he feels the familiar pang. Nothing can distract him from his hunger. It's only been a day and he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. He needs it.

"Good morning, ladies. Let us begin our day as the Lord would want us to: with a prayer. In the name of the Father, the Son…" Ms. Swan begins her class the way she has for the past six months.

She's an actress as she smiles at co-workers and feigns enthusiasm regarding the details of their personal lives. What is real is her affection for these children. She cares for them deeply…more than anyone knows or could understand. She guides them in their education, and tends to their young spiritual needs. The way her teachers tried to do for her in these same halls. She wonders if their smiles were fake too.

She dismisses the children to mass, knowing that she herself should attend, but she does not. She returns to her empty classroom and blankly stares out of the window until the children return.

He doesn't have to think about it. He knows where to go to find what he needs. It's easy for him, and that doesn't make it easier. The thin blonde carries Edward's items to the fitting room and hangs them on the hook. He follows behind her, watching. "Let me know if there's anything you need," she offers.

He licks his lips. "There is."

Fried chicken…meatballs. Bella takes inventory of her fridge as she contemplates what to cook. She chooses the latter and begins making dinner for one. It's the routine that she needs, not the food. She never feels hungry anymore. She methodically completes the task. Her fingers working independently from her brain as she gazes out the window.

The bulldozer is gone.

She eats alone, in silence. Upstairs, she grabs the box from under the bed. She brushes her fingers across the etched wood. She knows she shouldn't look, but she opens the lid…like she does every night.

Edward hooks the silver trailer onto the hitch of his black jeep. It reminds him of a bullet, a pill, a prison. But it's not a prison—it's freedom.

He pays the man in cash and he drives to the property. He turns onto the one lane road, passing through the thick green. He sees the lone house and turns just before it, onto the makeshift driveway that has been cleared.

He makes himself busy, trampling through mud to unhook the trailer—his temporary home. He pauses when he hears a truck roar up the street. He looks to the sound for a moment, and then his attention is returned to his work.

She sleeps, she wakes, she works. She sleeps, she wakes, she works. She looks in the mirror and wonders who it is that is staring back at her, and remembers the person she once saw there. A full heart. A hand to hold. A future and a room to paint. She wakes, she works, she sleeps…alone.

It's black. Pitch black. And sounds that no human ears should hear are seeping their way through the seams of Edward's trailer to his ears. He can't sleep. Crickets chirp. A coyote howls. The wind rustles and sighs. Edward rolls over. He feels it. The pang, the need—it rises through him. He turns in his bed again, but he can't turn away from it.

On his back now, he stares at the ceiling. A new sound finds its way to his ears. Bells? No, not bells. It stops, and its starts again. A gong. It stops. He closes his eyes.

He starts to forget what he's trying not to think of. He starts to let the sounds of the forest lull him away, to pull him down into sleep…

It starts again, the sound. A chime?

He throws off the covers and opens the door.

She walks out onto the porch, into the sunlight. The floor boards are warped and slightly sticking up. An untrained eye might not be able to maneuver without injury the way Bella's trained feet do. Her steps beat a path that she doesn't even have to think about. But today the path is disrupted. Her feet suddenly stop. Something is different. It rests on the steps, not on its hook—her mother's wind chime.

She picks it up and puts it back, nodding at it when she's done so. Silently encouraging the wind chime to go about its business, as she does the same.

He's on his feet all day. He watches as the backhoe clears the lot and digs. The foundation is laid in the clearing. He barks orders and beats a path in the earth, his authority is unmistakable.

His work boots are caked with mud. He likes the smell of the earth, and his work. It fills his mind and leaves no room for other things. No other thoughts, no nagging needs. He lies to himself, and he believes the lie.

It's Friday, and she's happy. As happy as she ever feels these days. It's not a true happiness, just a feeling of relief. Tomorrow's Saturday, and finally, she can sleep.

She walks through the parking lot of St. Robert's and finds Alice smoking a cigarette and waiting for her.

"My girls have been little shits lately. I swear I wish I went your route and taught the younger ones. First graders are a hell of a lot easier to handle then these tweens. I can't take the cattiness anymore. Note passing, gossiping, pariah's... girls are such bitches."

"You shouldn't talk that way Alice. They're kids. And you should really watch your mouth, we're right in front of the church for God's sake."

"Yes, Ms. Swan… for God's sake." Alice shakes her head and stamps out her cigarette. "That's it. We've been at this too long now. You are coming tonight. We are having a girls' night. Rosalie and I can only talk about so many things. We need you there to liven up the conversation…or at least keep us in check."

"If I go, all I hear about is your amazing husband, and Rosalie never stops with the sex talk. No offense, but it's just not for me…not right now."

"Then when, Bella? When are you going to wake up?"

Bella drives home, faster than she should. She pushes her truck to the limit and it roars up her street.

She gets out, slams the door, and then stops. She buries her face in her hands and sinks to the floor. She holds her breath and tears escape…angry tears. She's angry at Alice, not for what she said, or for how she said it, but because she knows Alice is right. It feels odd, to be feeling something. Bella has felt nothing but numbness and exhaustion for a very long time. Against all of her better judgment and her desire to get into her bed and never get out again, she picks up the phone, and dials Rosalie.

It's been three days, and it's been too long. He dresses in his new clothes and smirks at the memory of the day he bought them.

I'm not going to. I can stop. I'm not going to do it.

He looks at his reflection and everything is just right. His black clothes match his jeep and he gets inside, not sure of where he's going or where he'll find it this time.

The club is crowded and Bella immediately feels regret. She isn't ready for this and she shouldn't have come.

She looks soft and feminine. Her hair is down in soft waves. Her short black dress is conservative, but it can't hide her endless creamy legs. Legs that are exaggerated by her stiletto heels. She's sexy even though she's trying not to be. She looks for a familiar face.

"Alright! This is what I like to see! Damn girl, you look hot!" Rosalie appears and takes her hand. She and Bella walk to a private table where Alice waits. Three martinis sit, untouched.

"You guys, I don't drink. You know that. I'm not drinking." Bella chants.

"Cut the goody two shoes routine for one night, will you please?" Alice asks, taking her glass in her hand.

Bella knows she will lose this battle. She sits and sips. The thumping music rattles her body; the vibration sinks into her skin. She sips. Alice and Rose shout whispers and laugh. The topics of conversation are just as Bella expected and she has nothing to say. She sips, and sips, and her eyes wander around the club.

She sips and her eyes stop.

A man in black rests his elbow on the bar. A feeling of recognition slides through her. She watches him watch the crowd. He does a shot, and then another.

She sips, and watches.

He begins to slowly move, his eyes on the dance floor. She watches him maneuver through the crowd. He walks in a circle, slowly descending closer to the crowd of people dancing. She sips and sees that his eyes are following a dark haired girl. The girl sways her hips and shoulders; her sequined top sparkles as she dances with a friend. The man moves slower and Bella can see his face clearly now. She remembers the face, and the eyes—Stormy Eyes.

He doesn't see Bella watching him, he doesn't see anything but the girl. He continues to stalk around the dance floor, his gaze never leaving the dancing girl's body. His head begins to bob with the music and he steps toward her.

Bella sips, she watches, and she burns.

He doesn't hesitate as he approaches the dancing girl. He doesn't speak, but the girl finds his eyes. Her friend is forgotten as the girl turns toward him. She smiles at him, and he touches her hip. She sways and he moves closer to her. His whole body moves with the rhythm of the music, and then their bodies move together.

Bella sips and feels the heat between the couple, she feels ashamed for watching them. Bella looks down and away, but she can't help herself-she looks back at the now entwined pair. They intimately touch each other and she sees Stormy Eyes put his lips to the Dancing Girls' neck.

A long forgotten feeling rises inside of Bella, and she sips her drink again. Her face is flushed and she desperately tries to break out of this trance. She finally tears herself away from watching them, and finds four eyes staring at her from across the table. Alice and Rosalie look at her quizzicaly.

Alice asks, "Bella? Hey, do you want to go dance?"

Music that inspired the chapter:

First breath after coma- Explosions in the sky

The song that Edward is dancing to at the club:

Until we bleed- Kleerup

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