At night, when Bella slept, and Edward, a vampire, could not, he found a kind of respite with his head pillowed against her shoulder. He often stared into the sky. In Forks, dense rain clouds almost perpetually shrouded the stars and made sky gazing a dull occupation for human and vampire alike, but, one extraordinary, exquisite Saturday night, the sky laid itself out, open and sheer as a satin sheet.
In that rare clarity, Edward glimpsed an angel.
Like a loosed arrow, silvery and slim, it shot through the clouds on some enigmatic mission. Edward's body tensed as if he himself had been struck, and that slight shift was enough to startle Bella awake.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, her eyelashes heavy with sleep.
"Nothing, its—" He patted her hand as he surveyed the skies. Empty, not a feather in its wake. "It's…gone now," he breathed. "Go to sleep Bella. I didn't mean to wake you."
She was fully awake now, rubbing her eyes and yawning in a white nightgown, dark eyes surveying his face. "Tell me. You look…like you've seen a ghost…"
Edward shook his head.
"Just tell me. I'm awake already, and I can't sleep now that you've made me curious. Don't be cruel!" She grinned playfully, feet hanging off the edge of the bed by his side, but his smile in return was a grim one.
"It was nothing," he said forcefully, lifting her back into bed and tucking her in.
Immortality, he thought, looking at her sweet, anxious smile, I don't want it.