I heard this song, and this was begging to be written. It's how Edward's left to deal when he loses Bella…and it's the first Valentine's Day without her. Songfic, inspired by a song off the Linkin Park album "Minutes To Midnight".

I don't own Twilight or New Moon. Or, out very soon, Eclipse. I also don't own any member of Linkin Park, or the album "Minutes To Midnight" or the song "Valentine's Day".

My insides all turn to ash, so slow,

And blew as I collapsed, so cold,

A black wind took them away, from sight,

And held the darkness over day, that night.

Lightning split open the sky, as rain continued to pour down. Thunder shouted, echoing, as a lone figure stood in the rain, standing beside a grave. A rose lay in his hand, and his grip on the flower tightened. Thorns dug into his palm, and the crumpled petal began to spill out of his grasp.

A pained gasp tore from his lips, as his perfect face twisted in agonising anguish. Looking down at the damaged flower in his hand, a peculiar emotion crossed his face, and he looked at the remains of the rose.

The thorns had been pushed back into the stem, and the previously adorned petals had fallen. Only one red petal remained…as red as the blood that had leaked from her body. The blood he once considered tantalising…but not on the day it had all been spilled.

And the clouds above move closer,

Looking so dissatisfied,

But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing.

He fell to his knees, tracing splattered mud from the gravestone in front of him. A picture of a brunette was laid into the stone; a girl with brown eyes and a sweet smile stared back at him, carving a hole in his heart.

Touching the image's cheek, he tilted his head, mouthing a word. Closing his eyes momentarily, his jaw tensed as he pulled out his wallet, staring at the picture inside it, his tawny gaze flickering between the photo and the gravestone.

In the picture from his wallet, he was embracing the girl from the other picture, both of them looking unnaturally happy, sharp contrast to his expression now. Neither could tear their gaze away from the other. With a sigh, he placed the cherished photo back into his wallet.

I used to be my own protection, but not now,

Cause my path has lost direction, somehow,

A black wind took you away, from sight,

And held the darkness over day, that night.

Desperate, heart-wrenching sobs tore from his throat, but no tears fell. Rain continued to fall on his porcelain skin, sliding over his cheekbones, into his eyes, onto his chin. His bronze hair dripped with rain, his eyelashes clinging with the fresh rain.

His fingers traced the letters of the name engraved in the stone, even as his eyes drank in the elegant yet exquisitely morbid script. His perfectly shaped lips parted, and his breath was visible in the cold air, though he only wore a thin, black button-up shirt and jeans.

Inhaling unnecessarily, his eyes narrowed as he read aloud. "Never said a real goodbye…but she was far too young to die. And it wasn't until she was knocking at death's gate…that we realized…we were far too late." He cleared his throat, catching his breath as pain physically tore his heart apart.

And the clouds above move closer,

Looking so dissatisfied,

And the ground below grew colder,

As they put you down inside,

But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing.

His eyes closed in remembrance, as he let his memories wander, until they reached that day. His entire family had been out hunting, and his dark-haired sister, a pixie in her own right, stopped as she fed, murmuring one word. The word sent him running back to her.

Even as he kicked down the door to her house, he knew he was too late to save her. The scent of blood filled him, not only to her, but to her father. He didn't notice, instead tearing up the stairs at an inhuman speed, and wrenching open her door.

The blood didn't tempt him; it repulsed him to see so much of it spewing from her. A low cry left him as he ran to her side, picking up the cold, dead, pale corpse splattered with blood. He didn't release her until his brothers literally pulled him away.

So now you're gone,

And I was wrong,

I never knew what it was like,

To be alone…

At her funeral, he spoke. The whole of the school was there, and most of her father's friends. But he barely took any notice, surveying the coffin with distaste. It was ironic that one as strong as he was parted from her by a wooden box.

He spoke in a respectful voice, full of anguish, and the words he said made most of the people attending the funeral cry. The girl's mother was hysterical, leaning on her new husband for support, as she watched someone who may have become her son-in-law speak about her dead daughter.

But he didn't stop until he was certain every single person at the funeral left knowing what an amazing person had left their world. And, finally satisfied he had done her memory justice, he stroked the coffin with the back of his hand, leaving a velvet box on the top, with an incredibly important ring inside. One that would have bound them together forever. But he had been too late.

On a Valentine's Day…

On a Valentine's Day…

On a Valentine's Day…

On a Valentine's Day…

The perfect boy shook his dripping hair, shaking the memories from his mind, as he let the mud stain his clothes. The rain continued to fall, the most horrible weather they had suffered for weeks, ironically on a day like this.

Leaning forward, he stroked a strong yet gentle hand across the dirt, frowning as he noticed the grass beginning to grow. She was truly gone; another name in another cemetery. Another teenager who would never show the world how wonderful she was.

Another sob shook his entire body as he let himself muse over the thought. She had never gotten another chance. She hadn't gotten a real job, hadn't graduated, and hadn't even finished the school year. She hadn't lived.

On a Valentine's Day…

(I used to be my own protection)

On a Valentine's Day…

(But not now)

On a Valentine's Day…

(Cause my mind has lost direction)

On a Valentine's Day…

(Somehow)

Relinquishing his control over the thoughts plaguing his mind, he staggered to his feet, looking up. He was alone in the cemetery, though it didn't shock him. People celebrated living love on a day like this; they forgot about the loved ones gone.

Running a hand through his hair, he looked back at the grave, and the scattered red rose petals strewn across the dirt. They were already becoming fragile in the rain, mud beginning to glue them to the dirt piled on top of the most beautiful and caring person he had ever known.

Closing his eyes, Edward Cullen inhaled deeply, before opening them again. "Happy Valentine's Day…Bella."

On a Valentine's Day…

(I used to be my own protection)

On a Valentine's Day…

(But not now)

On a Valentine's Day…

(But my mind has lost direction)

On a Valentine's Day…

(Somehow)

I think I'm going to have to go cry now. That was one of the saddest things I've written for a while. And as I was writing, it kind of felt like I was standing beside Edward, watching him. Hope the fact that I didn't write his name until the end wasn't too confusing. Oh well, let me know what you think. Sob.

If you love Edward and you know it, please review…type type!

Just A Little Bit Dramatic