Disclaimer : Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is a fantasy inspired by my need to find a happy ending for Mortissues' "The Blue Hour" Edward.

Heartfelt thanks go to my beta, RobzBeanie, and to Mortissues, without whom this little tale wouldn't exist.

He was broken, body and soul. The woman he loved beyond reason, the woman whose soul he could not bring himself to damn in order to keep her, had chosen another and was expecting a child, something he could never possibly have given her.

Emmett had tried to reason with him. "Did you ever consider that as your singer, she was only ever meant to be food? That by resisting fate, by loving her, you did a good thing? Because of that she found the life she now has and it's a good life, the one you wished her to have. That has to count for something, Edward, don't you think?"

He didn't stay long with his brother and sister, instead choosing to wander aimlessly around Europe, visiting galleries and museums, concert halls, churches and cathedrals. But he could not find any semblance of meaning to his eternal life without Bella. None of the pursuits that had once given him a sense of pleasure in life held anything for him anymore.

It was a cold, blustery day in London when he wandered into The National Gallery. Walking from room to room he eventually found himself in front of Henri Rousseau's "Surprised!", staring at the orange striped tiger lurking in the lush green undergrowth of the jungle. The image brought a rather unpleasant memory to the surface and made him choke back tears that he could never shed.

A faint human scent to his right brought him back to the present. Turning his head just a fraction he viewed the woman beside him discreetly. She was dressed simply in jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt and sensible shoes, holding a dark wool coat over her arm. Her shoulder length, curly hair was mousy brown and covered most of her face from view. There was nothing particularly special about her at all, except for the fact that her mind was silent.

Edward reeled with the realisation. Never in his long life had he encountered a silent mind, not until Bella. He had been so sure that this trait was designed for him alone, to intrigue him, challenge him and give him peace, and yet here was another human whose mind he could not read.

The woman moved on to the next room, with Edward following silently behind. If his heart could beat, it would be pounding so loudly his ears would hurt.

Her heart was steady as she walked from painting to painting, seemingly oblivious to her vampire stalker.

Stopping beside her in front of Redon's "Ophelia among the Flowers," he found himself desperate to know what she was thinking.

"I always wished I'd been named after this painting," she said wistfully, staring straight ahead. "It was my mother's favourite, because she loved the colours so much. When I was little, she would keep me off school and bring me here. In fact we spent so many hours in these rooms over the years that they feel like home."

Edward waited quietly for her to continue, but without another word she took his hand in hers.

The warmth he felt from her hand radiated up his arm and into his chest. He expected a reaction to the icy cold of his skin, but instead she tugged a little to draw him to her and led him through the door, down the main stairs and out into Trafalgar Square.

Both took a moment to pull on their coats, she to ward off the cold, he for appearance's sake, then she took hold of Edward's hand once again. He followed her silently across the square, until they were walking along The Mall and into St James' Park, where she found them a secluded bench to sit on.

He turned his head and found her looking straight into his eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked softly.


"You have the most beautiful soul," she said, smiling.

"Excuse me?" Edward retorted, incredulous.

"Your soul, I can see it as clear as any other."

"My soul, if I still had one, would be grotesque, undeserving of any love or forgiveness," he gritted out, closing his eyes and turning away.

With two of his senses dulled, he was unprepared for her sudden move to straddle his lap, her knees and shins resting on either side of him on the bench.

Holding his face in her hands, she said, "Look into my eyes, Edward, tell me what you can see."

Swallowing hard, he raised his eyelids to find her face so close to his their noses were almost touching. Unable to avoid her gaze, he looked into her dark brown eyes as she stroked his cheeks gently with her thumbs.

And he was lost.

"You are a good man, Edward. Your soul has been marked by your experiences, tested and tortured, but not destroyed, not broken and certainly not damned."

Her words began to soothe him and he found himself drawn in, almost certain that he was seeing her soul too.

"The more I look at it," she continued, "the more it glows. It recognises its mate."

Edward stiffened, but didn't break eye contact.

"You don't believe me," she whispered.

"No," he replied, his throat tightening, "Bella is my mate."

"But this Bella, she isn't here with you, is she. You're alone."

"She chose another man and a more human existence."

"Because she isn't your soul mate, I am."

His thoughts were suddenly in turmoil, running through the memories of his years with Bella, examining every detail, questioning every word, every action, but even with his sharp vampire mind he could not make sense of it.

He felt fingers running through his hair, scratching at his scalp, working their way down the back of his neck to his shoulders.

"Come back to me, please, Edward."

Warm lips touched his cold mouth, the tip of his nose, his eyelids.

"I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Please, Edward."

As he recovered himself, Edward found his hands had gripped her hips, pulling her closer. Once again he was caught in her gaze, dazzled by the connection his mind was struggling to accept, new desire coursing through his long dead veins. He didn't even fight to control himself, or weigh the dangers his vampiric nature might impose. For the first time in his life he took what he wanted and kissed the woman sitting on his lap. In moments his tongue was in her mouth and she was moaning, pressing her body against his.

As she pulled her head back, gasping for air, he moved his lips to her neck, kissing and licking along her jugular vein. The need to bite, to make her like him, was so intense, he could barely hold himself back.

"We really need to go somewhere more private," she groaned.


This time it was Edward leading the way at a frustratingly slow human speed, waving down a black cab and giving directions to his apartment building in Holborn.

Not once did Edward question what he was doing - or what he was about to be doing - with this human woman whom he'd met just a little over an hour ago. None of the fears that had plagued him throughout his relationship with Bella seemed relevant to this situation.

Neither spoke on the thankfully short journey, nor as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, but no sooner were they behind the closed door of Edward's apartment than lips were locked and coats shed.

"I want to see you," he murmured as his lips explored her collarbones. "Can I... can I undress you?"

"Please," she moaned.

Taking her hand, he led her through the apartment to the bedroom, where he dropped to his knees and removed her shoes and socks. Carefully, he unzipped her jeans and tugged them all the way down for her to step out, then stroked his way back up her legs to help her wriggle out of her panties.

He inhaled deeply, almost giddy from the scent he'd uncovered, and looked up to catch her frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"You look... so young right now and I... well, I'm not so... young," she sighed.

"I'm much older than I look," he said seriously, raising the hem of her t-shirt as he rose to his feet. Once he'd lifted it over her head, he unclasped her bra, sliding the straps down her arms until it fell to her feet.

Taking in another deep breath, he stepped back to admire her.

Her body wasn't as young or as firm as hers, but it was curvacious; an hourglass figure with full hips and breasts that would more than fill his hands.

Edward liked it. He liked it a lot. And Emmett would be so jealous.

As he licked his lips, she backed towards the bed and slid under the covers, holding them up for him to join her.

"Get a move on, Edward!" she teased.

Where he was slow to remove her clothes, he was extremely swift to remove his own, smoothly slipping under the upheld covers and pulling her into his arms.

"You're so cold," she gasped, her hands roaming over his chest and stomach. "I'm sure I can warm you up."

With a growl, Edward began to explore her body, his hands mirroring hers, copying her every move until his fingers were inside her and hers were wrapped firmly around his cock.

In moments she was crying out with pleasure, her body flushed with heat, warming him just as she had promised. Lifting her thigh to rest on his hip, he slid into her with such ease that he almost sobbed in relief. How could this be so right when his one and only other attempt at making love to a human had been so disastrous?

Her hands on his face brought him back to the present and holding her gaze, he began to move in and out of her warmth, slowly, sensuously and overwhelmed with emotion.

This was so very different from anything he'd experienced with her. He felt no hesitation or fear, only a sense of freedom to be himself.

Rolling her onto her back, he licked at her neck longingly, his hips thrusting quicker, harder, as she writhed beneath him until she clenched around him in orgasm.

"Your name," he pleaded, "please tell me your name."

"Enid," she panted.

"Enid," he groaned as he finally experienced the ecstacy that had eluded him for so long.


They lay side by side on their backs, staring at the ceiling, while Enid's breathing returned to normal. The grin on Edward's face was threatening to crack his marble skin, the urge to jump around the room pumping his fists barely contained.

"I know what you are," she announced, breaking the silence.

Edward snorted. "Of course you do," he laughed nervously. Could a vampire lose his mind?

"I've seen your kind before."

Now that wasn't so funny.

"His skin was cold like yours, his scent just as intoxicating, but his eyes were different, blood red. I was waiting for the tour bus when he approached me. He was very attractive and I was completely enthralled by him. He muttered something about not being able to wait any longer to have me and so I followed him down a passageway.

"I was excited to begin with, but then he tilted my head to one side, exposing my neck and baring his teeth. I was certain he intended to bite me, to drink my blood, but something made him pause and look straight into my eyes. Then he was gone, as if he'd never existed."

"Where were you?" Edward asked, his skin crawling.

"Tuscany, a small town called Volterra."

"Fuck!" he growled, turning on his side to face her. "What the hell were you doing there?"

"Searching for my soul mate," she replied indignantly. "I was so sure you were there, that I could feel your presence, but that incident - it terrified me. I came back to London almost immediately."

"Why were you were looking for me?"

"Because I had nothing left to live for, Edward. Everyone I loved was gone and I was done waiting for you to find me."

He could smell her tears, before they trickled down onto the pillow. She hadn't moved from her back so he propped himself up on one arm to look at her and wrapped the other around her waist.

"You have to tell me what you're thinking, what has you so upset."

"I was just starting college when my mother exhibited the first signs of her disease," she sniffed. "Her condition deteriorated so quickly that my father had to give up work to care for her. By the time I had finished my degree, he needed me home to support him. Friends drifted away and stopped calling. We were in a living hell, watching the woman we loved so dearly imprisoned inside her own disintegrating body. By the time she died, my father was a mere shell of the man he used to be. He couldn't live without his wife, his soul mate, and he was gone within a year."

Edward caressed her face, offering some comfort, and waited for her to continue.

"For a while I was consumed with grief, but eventually it dawned on me that I owed it to my parents to live the life they'd given me, to rediscover the things that gave me pleasure in life and to find the kind of love they had between them. I put everything of importance in storage, sold the house and started travelling around the Continent, visiting galleries, going to concerts."

"You like art and music?"

"Oh yes. I have my mother's passion for painting - I studied fine art because I wanted to be like her - and my father's love of books, church architecture and classical music."

Edward couldn't believe his luck. This was what he'd been missing, with and without her - someone with whom he could share his interests and passions, someone he could spend time with doing the things he enjoyed, someone creative who would inspire him.

He was so incredibly aroused by her answer that he reacted without thinking, lifting her body effortlessly until she sat straddling his waist. With his hands on her hips, he slid her back and forth over his very erect cock.

"I take it we have some things in common?" Enid grinned, her tears forgotten.

"Oh yes!"

Her head fell back as her orgasm spread throughout her entire body, her breasts pushed forward tempting him. He slipped inside her and sat up to take a nipple into his mouth, all the time thrusting upwards.

"Tell me," he ground out, "do you play an instrument?"

She giggled, tempted to tease him about the instrument she was playing right now, but he shifted the angle of his thrust and sent her hurtling into another climax.

"Oh... uhn... the violin," she screamed.

That did it. The thought of having someone to play his music with tipped him blissfully over the edge.


Enid was playing with his hair and running her fingertips over the perfect features of his face.

"How old are you?"

"Well technically I'm seventeen, but I was changed in 1918, so, like I said, I'm a lot older than I look."

"Oh," she sounded downcast, whispering, "I'm twenty-eight, nearly twenty-nine."

"Enid, do you want children?"

"I can't have children."


"Won't, I suppose, or shouldn't. It makes no difference. I had some tests done." She paused and took a breath to steady herself. "I have the beginnings of the same disease that killed my mother. There's no cure and so I can't take that chance."

Edward looked into her mournful eyes, his heart breaking for her. Then something shifted in the colour of her irises and everything became clear.

"Enid, I can see your soul," he gasped, "and just as you described mine, I can see your suffering, but also your strength, your passion... your love."

"What? No, it's a reflection. Everyone sees a reflection of their own soul, not mine, even when I was just a child... "

"I don't think so, not this time. I can see your soul and Enid, I believe you - you were made for me."

What were the chances, after everything he'd been through, that he woud find a woman so perfect for him, with no one left to tie her to her human life, a woman for whom time was running out. And that she would find and want him, a vampire able to prevent her from further suffering, a man to give her a new life, companionship and love.

Edward jumped off the bed and started gathering up their clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to get far away from here if I'm going to keep you forever. Would you come with me to my home in Alaska?"

"You want to make me the same as you?"

"I want to change you, yes, if that's what you want."

"Oh, I want you, Edward, for eternity."

A/N The name Enid means "purity", literally "soul". I prefer the Welsh pronunciation [En-id] to the English [Ee-nid].