Hello there! well this is a scene from chapter nine of Betrayal. I got curious about Edward's interpreation of the first moments they saw each other, the first conversation they have in three years and his reaction to her love for him even though he doesnt really remember anything. I wanted to know what was going through his mind as the whole scene unfolded, and where along that line he had decided he couldnt leave her again. so here you go, the scene from chapter nine when Bella and Edward see each other for the first time in three years.
I had left her the rose with the intention of coaxing her out here. I had come to this meadow, this place I had seen in what few memories I had, hoping she would know to come here also. When I heard the rapid footfalls on the garden path I stopped breathing. I didn't know what to do. How should I confront the woman I have been thinking of constantly for months now, the woman I saw myself laughing with, kissing, making love to, but I didn't remember her favorite color? I didn't know her. I knew of her. Carlisle had told me about her, about our past, what had gone on between us, how we had loved each other.
We loved each other. I had loved a woman, Bella was her name, and from what Carlisle told me, it was not half hearted in any way. I met her by moonlight for months, just to spend time with her. We risked life and limb to see the other, and in the end, I had died because of it. I had loved this woman enough to die for her.
But I didn't remember.
It killed me to know that she would see me and relief would spread through her, that she would remember our love and I wouldn't. I wanted to share in the joy of the moment; I wanted to know what it was like to love someone fiercely enough to do what we had done for the other.
Of course for all I knew she could have married the werewolf she was betrothed to in the years I had been absent, trying to adjust to my new body and capabilities. For all I knew she no longer wanted anything to do with me. She could have fallen out of love with me. I wasn't sure why, but that idea, that she no longer loved me, brought a hard, somehow painful feeling to my chest.
I inhaled slowly as I heard her steps coming closer. It was faint, but the smell coming off of her skin was already so tantalizing. But I knew I had to be strong, that I would be strong. I had to. I had to see this woman for myself. Through my memories wasn't enough. She haunted me, her laugh, the smell of her hair, and the sound of her voice, the only words I ever remembered her saying.
I'll miss you today. In my memories those were the only ones I could hear her saying. Even still, her voice, that lovely sound, followed me. I had to meet her, had to see her for just one moment to know for myself that she wasn't simply my imagination.
But when her steps brought her to the edge of the meadow, I wasn't ready for what I saw.
She was beautiful. Wide, chocolate brown eyes stared back at me full of disbelief and wonder. Her soft, full lips were parted slightly, as though she was trying to say something but was unable. Her face was like an angel, so like the woman I remembered but stronger and more devastating and breathtaking. But I couldn't hear her breath as she stared at me.
"Breathe," I reminded her. She gasped a full breath. She didn't stop her staring. She did, however, take a single cautious step in my direction.
"You're here," she stated, as though she wasn't sure how true that statement was. Her voice was clearer than I remembered, but mostly the same. I nodded, but didn't say a word, too afraid to interrupt her if she spoke again.
"You left me a rose," she said a little slower, making another move in my direction. She kept looking at me as though she didn't truly believe me to be real. And of course I could not blame her. The last time she saw me, as far as Carlisle told me, was when he was carrying me away and I was beginning the change. I had been more or less dead to her for three years, and now I was here, waiting for her. I didn't want to tell her that I didn't know the same love I saw in her eyes, the same unwavering affection that was evident in her hitched breathing and shaky heart beat.
"Carlisle said two years, and it's been three and I didn't ever think I would see you again," she whispered. Stories Carlisle and Alice had told me filled my mind of who Bella had been, the impatient girl who had just become a woman. I drew a breath to respond and the smell of her hit me with full force. She was mouth watering. Venom pooled in my mouth and I swallowed it down, the burn of it in my throat reminding me why I could not afford to lose control at that moment.
"You always were impatient," I replied, speaking for the first time. She laughed but it sounded more like a cry. Her eyes were tearing up as she continued to walk in my direction. She finally stopped and I looked at her for a long moment. She should never cry. It didn't look right on her face, that kind of display of pain.
"Why are you crying?" I asked her. If it was hurting her, my being here, I would leave at that very moment. I had come here to find out who she was; if my being here was in any way hurting the angelic creature I had discovered her to be, I would not be a part of it. She looked surprised at my words after a moment, and then wiped away her tears hastily.
"I've missed you so much," she told me. I knew she wanted to hear me say that I missed her as well. I knew she wanted some sort of assurance of my continued love for her. But I could not give her that sort of guarantee. I would not lie to her.
She watched me for a moment in silence, and then asked why I wasn't breathing. I explained about her scent, but not as detailed as to say every time I needed to breathe to answer her the smell coming off her skin was making me practically dizzy with intoxication.
"Carlisle said you might not remember me," she confessed, and in those seven words I heard grief. And of course it had been possible that I would not remember her when I awoke from the change. But looking at her now, I understood why my subconscious would not let me forget. She was too magnificent not to remember, even if it was just the hazy, abbreviated memories I had.
"Carlisle was preparing you for the worst. It's true, there are a lot of thing I don't remember about my human life. And even the thing I do remember are hazy. But Bella, how could I ever forget you?" I asked. That at least was truth, an honest question. How could I forget a woman I loved enough to die for? I had suffered three days of unending hellish agony for her. Of course I didn't remember that it was for her when I woke up from it, but I knew now that I was ready to give up anything and everything for her. If that was not true love, I did not know the definition.
She shook her head and more tears fell from her eyes. I wanted more than anything to wipe them away and promise that she would never cry again. I had come here to see this woman, to know that she existed and understand my memories. But now I understood that knowing she existed in the world and having all the understanding of my memories would not be enough. The love in her face was unshakable, inhumanly potent. And she loved me. She knew what I was as I stood there in front of her and she still loved me, with fervor and loyalty I could see.
The thought of leaving her behind, of letting her go, made me ache. First, because I absolutely refused to hurt her any more than she was already hurt on my behalf. Even though she did not say it, I could see in the sheer relief, the absolute delirious happiness in her face that she had not been happy for the three years I was gone.
The second reason, as hard as it was to admit to myself, was that I wanted to understand what made me love her the way I did. She was gorgeous of course, pale lovely skin, beautiful expressive eyes, a smile that could bring a man to his knees, not to mention the sound of her voice, the unworldly curve of her body that I tried not to think about or the fragrance radiating from her skin. I needed to know what it was about her personality, her being, that captivated me so, enough to make me willing to die for her, enough that my mind would not forget her, enough that I wanted to return the love she had for me now.
I wanted to return her affection. I wanted to love her, if only to make her happy and see her smile. As we spoke of the past and the future, of her feelings for me and what I could not remember and what I did not feel, I became more and more determined to love her. I had to explain all that had happened in the three years I had been gone. And in turn, she told me our story, from beginning to end. Of course it was different from the one Carlisle told me because she knew so many more details than he ever could. But it was different in its own way. There was more passion in it, more reverence. She held what we had, however strange and unorthodox it might have been, in the highest respect. And as she told me how things had come to be, who we had been together, the stories from the nights we spent together, I began to understand why she hadn't let me go. She cared for me too deeply, needed me too tenaciously, loved me too dangerously to ever forget or get past it.
And I realized as I told her, that as much as she still thought of her as hers, I had decided unconsciously that she was still mine.
And I had no intention of letting her go.