Late March, 2005 (Edward, Rose [and Jacob?])

[themidnightson]

There's a Star on his window, shuffling.

And the phone in his pocket keeps vibrating. Twenty five times in twenty-four hours now. He considered moving to open it, to at least see who was being so insistent. It might be Carlisle. He might be needed. What was today? Was it important?

He thought about it but didn't move. Listened to the rats and spiders that gave him wide berth in the dark attic space he'd ended up in not too long ago. The rancid, rickety tenement for stories creeks and screams below him. Refuse and pollution so thick it's almost solid in the air. But the sounds and the sights and the thoughts bounced off of him.

Meaningless. None of it meant anything. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

Even as it made him dig his forehead hard into his knees.

Flip, flip, flip, went the cards in hands off to his side. How much longer would he be able to stand this. Hopelessness. Torture. And the near dizzying sensation that flooded him at the simple consideration of going to check on her. The idea of her, more than the her behind his eye lids, always either smiling, how she would be in the life where she could be hurt, wasn't in danger, or at the edge of danger, pushing toward it.

He'd promised he wouldn't go back, wouldn't bring his black demons into her life again.
She deserved better. In this life. In the places she would go after it.

But to see her, the thought was like lightening through him. To see her move, breathe, laugh, with her friends or her father. Not in his head. Not memories or phantoms. It opened up his chest as though he actually could breathe, even when he clutched his legs tighter. No. Damn it. No. He swore he would not give in. He had to do this right by her at least. No matter how hard it was.

The phone vibrated again. Twenty-six. And Edward yanked it out, swearing at the all but empty attic as he did so, desperately needing the distraction from the sudden flight of insane fancy his mind was fighting against him to give into. He flipped the phone open, and even with perfect vision he'd had to focus confusedly. Feel a twinge of the kind of shock he hadn't felt in over six months now.

Why would Rosalie be calling him?

She was the one person he was sure enjoyed his absence.

Twenty-six calls. Maybe something was wrong. If Esme or Carlisle --

Suddenly worried, he hit the send button and managed tersely, "What?"

Comments

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Come on. Pick up, pick up...

She's tried calling him more times than she'd like to admit. But this is important. She curses at him in her head for not answering, almost wishing that he could hear her thoughts now. He completely abandons Esme and Carlisle, and he can't even bother picking up the phone when someone calls? He can't even do that much?

She's so lost in her own anger by this point that she's a little startled when she actually hears Edward's voice on the other end.

But she manages not to miss a beat. Still angry, she says sarcastically, "Oh, wow. Edward answered the phone. I feel so honored."

She manages the dry tone she had intended, but there's a barely perceptible edge to her voice that indicates she's not completely calm at the moment.

[themidnightson]

That was what he answered the phone for?

Rosalie's sarcastic biting annoyance?
Apparently his family was fine.


And Rosalie was likely...bored. Her logic made so less than any when her thoughts weren't a road map to make sense of it. Her impulses were so confoundedly mixed up even then. And if he wanted it to concern him, that he'd become her entertainment evne that didn't stay.

He closed the phone by his ear. Without speaking to her.


"Leave me alone," he told the empty space.

His Family. The Star on the window. His Thirst. Her.
Everything and everyone who couldn't or didn't hear.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Damn.

That wasn't how she intended that to go. Stupid, stupid, stupid... She scowls at herself while she hangs up and hits redail. Did she really have to go and make that snide remark? Of course not. And now she might have jeapordized her only chance to convince him to come home. For Esme. For Carlisle.

But he picked up once, so maybe...?

While it's ringing again, Rosalie quickly tries to think of something short that would get Edward to listen. She considers coming right out and saying that, but second-guesses herself...

He picks up. Thank God.

"I thought you would want to know that Alice is in Forks," she says quickly, before he has the chance to hang up.

[themidnightson]

"What?"

Even with his voice flat and emotionless, he'd had to open his eyes again.


Alice

has no reason to be in Forks.

She'd promised.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

She's broken her promise.

Alice's words-- the image of her face, as she pleads with her sister not to tell-- refuse to leave Rosalie's mind now. And suddenly she can't shake the nagging feeling that she shouldn't be doing this.

But it's important. He needs to come home. Couldn't Alice see that?

"You know how Alice is-- thinks she knows everything. Like you," Rosalie says aloud, even managing a dry chuckle. But as much as she wants it to, it doesn't hide all of her uncertainty.

[themidnightson]

Surprise broke easily for a tidal wave of anger.

Feirce fury finally giving a direction to all the tangle inside him.



How dare she. How dare she break her word. Interfere with Bella. She'd sworn she kept his choice in this matter, no matter how much she loved Bella, too. She'd sworn, cryptically, and he'd even let her. That she'd stay away for 'only as long as he managed to.'

She'd been blatant about it. Her belief that he'd fold. But he hadn't.

He hadn't. And Alice was in Forks. With Bella.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Silence on the other end.

"Are you still there, Edward?" Rosalie presses. Why isn't he responding?

Still nothing.

"Edward?" she repeats, getting a little frustrated. "Don't you even care why Alice is there?"

She could just say it.

(Maybe she just wants him to ask, so she can pin some of the blame on him...)

[themidnightson]

She kept talking, and he didn't miss how at the window there was a pause in the shuffling of the cards. Not a word said, and it happened all the time, but the extra iota of silence in the millions sounds stood out.


Neither of them was telling them why they were bothering him.
And he was exhausted of the whole aspect of playing games.

The anger and the exhaustion. The betrayal. Combined easy.
Even Alice mixed into Star and Rose. "Not particularly."



Except.


If Alice had already returned...

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

The words, the sound, became a mantra.

Trying to push away the shape of that window. The sound of her voice and the color of her eyes. All perfectly preserved for eternity in his mind.

He could beg for entrance back into her life. Or even sit in the shadows and never let her know he was there. Just to see her, hear her, be near her --

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

She deserved a life.

He'd promised her.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Rosalie is a bit satisfied at having received an answer from him, finally.

"Well, of course, she's not exactly breaking the rules," she explains, a slight unseen smile playing on her lips. "I mean, you only warned us to stay away from Bella, right? The rest of Forks doesn't matter."

This is cruel, something in the back of her mind tells her. She shouldn't be taunting him like this... It's bad enough what she has to tell him, she should just come straight out with it...

But every time she opens her lips to say it, that same uncertainty and even fear grip her unmoving heart. Should she even be doing this at all?

She laughs, nervously, and adds, "So you don't need to be angry with Alice."

[themidnightson]

Edward squeezed his eyes closed. Brilliant repulsion in unbanked fury. And the image of Bella finally gone from Forks, back to the land of sun and her mother. That would be good for her. To leave all their shadows behind her.

"Then why did you call me, Rosalie, if not to get Alice in trouble?" It's not a question. It's an accusation of the fact it wouldn't be the first time or the fact it wouldn't be something anyone would be surprised at her doing.

That it was ludicrous to think she could be charitable at all.
His eyes opened as he pulled the phone away from his head.

Talking to her, it, as one. "Why are you bothering me?"
Why was he letting her. A sound of disgust escaped his lips.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

His voice sounds slightly more distant, and suddenly Rosalie realizes he's going to hang up again. He's not going to pick up a third time.

(She's a bit confused, however. This wasn't how she expected him to react...)

"Wait!" she says quickly, genuine desperation creeping into her voice for a split second. "That's not why I called."

She bites her lip and closes her eyes, reminding herself. For Esme. For Carlisle. Even for Emmett.

...And she tries to ignore the feeling that her desperation isn't purely selfless.

[themidnightson]

Would it never end. His fingers tightened over the plastic and metal holding it to his forehead in a fist he was doing his best not to close hard, not to break the phone.

"Then why? Tell me quickly--" now "--and then leave me alone."

It's black but he manages, barely, not swearing at his sister.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Rosalie's vaguely aware that he doesn't really get it.

She swallows, hesitating. "Well..."

[themidnightson]

"Spit it out, Rosalie," he snapped, at her need to draw this out. To do the opposite of what he said. Every. Time. "You have ten seconds."

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

"I think you should come home," Rosalie says quickly, remembering the most important thing, the real reason she called. For Carlisle and Esme, and for Emmett...

"I'm tired of Esme grieving and Carlisle never laughing. You should feel ashamed of what you've done to them. Emmett misses you all the time and it's getting on my nerves. You have a family. Grow up and think about something besides yourself."

She lets out a breath when she finishes. She hadn't meant for all of that to pour out so quickly, so honestly, and suddenly she wonders if she's done more harm than good.

[themidnightson]

"Interesting advice, Rosalie," he said too hard, too quick.

He tried to ignore that she'd used those two words.

Because, Of course, she'd use Esme and Carlisle next, while evading her real point still. She'd started with Alice. The sister who she never could have been. The people who'd loved him. Who'd held him important beyond and before her.

The same people whose name she never took, who she battered with her brokenness in whatever shape it took no matter how unconditionally they welcomed and kept her.








Like him. So exactly like him right now. Callously.

"Let me tell you a little story about a pot and a kettle..."

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

It was a flaw in her argument, to be sure. But it doesn't seem fair that she can never point out the selfishness of other people, just because she happens to be particularly selfish herself. If anything, it only makes her more aware of it. Maybe that's even why it annoys her so much when she sees it in other people, especially Edward.

Besides. She hasn't been nearly as selfish lately, not in this circumstance. She stayed behind. She kept Esme company. She said hello to Carlisle when he came home from work. She distracted Emmett, when he needed it.

And she broke her promise, and called, so he would come home.

Needless to say, she gets a bit defensive. "I am thinking of them, unlike you," she accuses. "Don't you care how much you've hurt Esme, if no one else? She loves you more than the rest of us, and you know that.

"Come home."

[themidnightson]

Esme. The idea he was hurting Esme--

Wasn't it at least half the reason he'd stopped talking to her so early on? Because Esme was the person who's life he'd sworn so long ago he'd make sure not to upset again? Because no matter how cheerful she tried to sound, or what approach she tried to take in tackling a call, he could always tell?

Somewhere in the catch of her voice, the unmistakable change.

The grief he'd been causing her already.








He knew how much it would tear her apart to be able to do nothing. How much it would have done even more damage to know that and watch her succumb to understanding just how far gone he was from her, even if his body had been with her.


And Carlisle --



Edward closed his eyes, turning his head so his cheek brushed the attic floor.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

He's not answering again. Rosalie rolls her eyes. "I thought once this whole Forks thing was finished, you would get over it."

Somewhere in the back of her head, she realizes she's making light of it. It should feel to Edward like it would have felt to her if she'd lost Emmett, if she'd let him die in that bear attack. And she can't even let herself imagine that.

But this is what Edward wanted. This is what he chose. And now that Bella's lived out her life like she was supposed to-- apparently-- it's time for him to put this whole ugly business behind him, for everything to go back to normal. Now.

[themidnightson]

When he opens his eyes, the Star on his windowsill is staring up at the sky outside from the tiny area. Carlisle's Star. Never laughing, Rosalie had said. Carlisle never laughing.


He wasn't really even able to follow that to coherent thought. And Emmett, her comment about Emmet wasn't deaf. And he knew Alice's persistence meant so many things on her part.

It made his voice softer, when he spoke the ceiling.

"Forks was never the problem, Rosalie." Softer. Patiently. It might have hedged confiding in those sounds, here and there. But weariness never left it. And he doesn't want to feel broken open before her, Rosalie, especially, and so he forces himself.

"Just because Bella--" His voice hitched when he stiffened at the pain forcing himself to say her name, not just think it. "has moved to Florida, doesn't mean I'm able..."

Forks. He'd never return to Forks again. Maybe never the West of the US.
His lips tightened as he simply thought about being anywhere near it. Or them.

"Look, Rosalie. I really am sorry, but, trust me, it wouldn't make anyone happier if I was there."

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Something in Rosalie sank, as if she'd just remembered something horrible. He still doesn't understand. She still hasn't actually told him.

Her mouth tries to form the words, but her voice seems to catch in her throat. All of her hesitation hits her at once in a nervous rush of emotion.

This was a bad idea. She broke her promise. She shouldn't have called. She can't tell him; it's too horrible. As much as she doesn't care, it's still horrible... How can it possibly fix anything, how can it make things better to tell him that this whole thing has gone completely wrong and there's nothing he can do about it? It's Edward. What are the odds he's actually going to take this well and come home?

"Um..."

[themidnightson]

Um?


Rosalie did not say Um.

She said many things. Frequently caustics things.
And she thought far worse ones on many occasions.
Bold. Angry. Arrogant. All without hesitation.


And Edward's grip of the phone seized.

"What is it that you're not telling me, Rosalie?" His mind spun through her words. The people she mentioned. "Is Esme alright? Is Carlisle--" God. Stop his mouth. Or his ears. He couldn't take, even the contemplation of both of them, threatened to snap something in him.

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

"They're fine," Rosalie tells him quickly. "It's just..."

She takes a deep breath. She has to tell him. He deserves to know, no matter how much of a child he's been during this whole thing. And he's going to find out eventually... He deserves to know now.

"...well, I didn't say that Bella moved."

Rosalie feels a strange sort of softness towards Edward suddenly. This is horrible, yes, but if it was her, she'd at least want to be told. She'd be angry if no one told her right away.

Besides, maybe, just maybe, he'll come home...

She tries to picture how it would be-- Edward returning home, running straight into the waiting arms of Carlisle and Esme. Letting them do what they do best, offering love, and offering healing. They would be sad for their son, but they would have him home...

"They didn't want to tell you, but I think that's stupid. The quicker you get over this, the sooner things can go back to normal. Why let you mope around in dark corners of the world when there's no need for it? You can come home now. We can be a family again. It's over."

Another outpour of honesty she hadn't quite intended. But it was how she felt, and she's not sorry.

She's surprised by the silence again on the other end.

"Edward?"

[themidnightson]

Nothing she was saying made any sense. Not that this was news by any stretch of the imagination. But it made absolutely no sense at all now. And she'd said sixty-seven words. It was a feat even for Rosalie.

She'd said -- but she'd had to have meant. Why would Alice be there? And if Bella wasn't there, so Alice wasn't in trouble because she hadn't gone there for Bella....and yet Bella hadn't moved?

It felt like he was missing something painfully obvious and he stared hard at the beam over his head. He turned over every single sentence she'd said so far, making strange patterns. Trying to factor in how she spoke to how she thought. What would have been important.

Nonsensical. All of it was nonsensical.




"I don't understand what you're saying, Rosalie."

[jealous-rose.livejournal.com]

Rosalie is quiet for a long time. She closes her eyes, summoning the courage to tell her brother what he needs to know, what he deserves to know.




"She's dead, Edward."




She's not surpised by the silence on the other end this time.

"I'm... sorry.

"You have a right to know, I think. Bella... threw herself off a cliff two days ago. Alice saw it, but it was too late to do anything. I think she would have helped, though, broken her word, if there had been time. She went back to do what she could for Charlie. You know how she's always cared for him, and she thought..."

Rosalie pauses. There was a click, a moment ago.

"Edward?"

There's no answer.

Rosalie swallows as she hangs up the phone, waiting for her heart to start beating again, until she remembers that it can't anymore. She takes a deep breath. It's out of her hands now. She tries to be at peace with her decisions, with what she's done, but she has a sinking feeling that this could end badly.

Very badly.

[themidnightson]

He doesn't know how many seconds passed before he realized.



The silence isn't that Rosalie broke off speaking.



That he'd hung up on her rambling.



That he was sitting up.






He sat there. In the dusty, darkness. The silence. That long, large, frozen space. It was like time had ended. As thought the entire universe had come to a complete stop.


Slowly. Moving like an old man. Edward looked back down at the phone in his hand. He turned it on, with the press of a fingertip. He dialed the one number he'd sworn never to use again. One too loud beep at a time.

When she answered, he'd hang up. If it was Charlie, he'd find out what he had to. He was only indulging this insanity to prove Rosalie's sick little joke wrong. It would be wrong. And then he could back to his nothingness.

[hello-biceps.livejournal.com]

In Forks, an un-countable distance away from Edward's pain - yet right in the heart of it - a phone is ringing. Someone answers. The voice on the other end belongs to a man. He is not a usurper, not an enemy, just a guy who likes a girl. His hand is currently on that girl's cheek, willing her not to stop the inevitable:

"Swan residence." Jacob speaks through gritted teeth.

[themidnightson]

A voice he didn't recognize.
Deep, but still incredibly young.


Edward dug his fingers into his knee, pulling on memories so well known and so pivotal, they seared through him as though cutting him from the inside. He canted his voice, imitating Carlisle's voice near perfectly, clam and polite and measured, the way he had been able to for more than half his second life now.

"This is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. May I please speak to Chief Swan?"

It would fool a human. But it would never be close enough for Edward.

[hello-biceps.livejournal.com]

His fingers, suddenly nerveless, refuse to hold on to Bella and his arm drops limply by his side. The bitterness rises in his throat like a tsunami and it takes every ounce of self control he has not to bark an insult at Carlisle. They were ruining Bella's life again, just when it was almost pieced back together.

"He's not here." The words come out a snarl, partly because ignoring Bella's frantic hand gestures feels a little underhanded.

[themidnightson]

The anger was dimly surprising.
He didn't know why. Didn't care to ask.


It simply served to form his own impatience.
The first edge of a demand, "Well, where is he then?"

[hello-biceps.livejournal.com]

But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate


"He's at the funeral."

[themidnightson]

He closed the phone. Without looking at it.






The way the whole world was closing around him.




Shards of clarity, sharper and brighter, and unconnected.



The last guttering burst of emotion flattening through him, reminding him of his own torments, somehow more real than fake, his attempts to help more futile, made his future so clear finally. He looked to the one side, with a harsh, hard, "Where's your fucking hope now?"

[bright_daughter]

But the window was empty.