Time slips through my cold fingers like the clear, sparkly water of our tiny well back home in France used to. I struggle, trying to get a good grip, to catch something, to freeze the world- and with it, my pain- forever.

Gold-colored hair.

Because if he can't go on, the Earth should stop moving, the sun stop shining. The moon should gently fade away and his beloved silver stars should shrivel up and die. Like I want to. Like I wish I could.

Soft music playing, couples dancing, twirling.

What a cruel, cruel world this is! It goes on, never stopping, not even pausing to acknowledge the fact that he is gone, than I couldn't stop him, couldn't even hold him here long enough to say goodbye.

A gentle whisper in my ear.

Dead. Forever. My dear, dear James. And I am terribly alone.

The smell of flowers in the warm night air.

It is decidedly not fair, of course not. But then, what is? And what can I do, except remember him? Surely he deserves that much, he must- at least- not be forgotten. But how?

A woman brushes her hair, humming a lullaby.

No one can live forever. Not even a vampire. It might take a while- several millennia, perhaps- but then, what? Laurent and I will die, and his memory will fade away, like the color of a well-worn pair of jeans.

Children running on the grass, laughing.

Slowly, his name will be forgotten- I don't think the Cullens will remember him properly. Not like I would've, anyway. Not like he should be remembered

Sand in my toes, wind in my hair, sea in my eyes.

James should be revered, his memory treasured and valued- he shouldn't be recalled as a foolish, mindless tracker who bit off more than he could chew, leaving only a bad after-taste behind.

Rain falling, horses walking on dark, wet pavement. Men and women selling their wares, children laughing. And then, chaos. Fire everywhere, people screaming- and blood, so much blood, running down the streets like a huge, red river. Suddenly it's hot, then cold, then hot again, and I must be burning, too, because it hurts…

Think, Victoria! You must make him proud. Even if it kills you, they must not forget him. Never. You owe him that much.

Rubies- or are they red eyes? I don't care anymore, they're mine, and they sparkle. A newborn vampire.

And then it hits me.

Sure, the idea took its time coming. But it was there, wasn't it? After two very long, lonely years. Finally. And it would work- of course it would! As sure as my name was Victoria and I loved James.

I hear revenge is best served cold, anyway.