Three Nights Later, Part Two

[themidnightson]

Edward's rather obvious tonight. He didn't start that way.

This was more of a family favor that just....happened.




Kate's been gone about an hour now, but Edward is still at the piano.
The piece is pianissimo, at the deeper end of the scale, wandering slowly.

Comments

[noteful]

"The kind of mess you can clean up, do you think?"

[themidnightson]

Carlisle. The Volturi. Jacob.



It wasn't even a question with Esme. It wasn't scott-free forgiveness, but it wasn't even a question. The same with Emmett, except minus the second part, and additional ribbing about learning 'to just let things go.'

Alice was willing to be angry and hurt, to deal while demanding he never even make her see one vision of him contemplating that kind of stupidity again. And Rose.....he still wasn't speaking more than two or three word sentences to her.



But Carlisle -- You've chosen not to live without her, and that doesn't leave me a choice. -- and the Volturi -- Aro's plans. Alice's promise -- and that shapeshifting boy.



"I don't know."

[noteful]

"I see."

She studies him for a moment.

"May I asked what's happened, or what's happening?"

[themidnightson]

"It's--"

Is really where he pauses, without even meaning to.






It's so big. An endless tragedy of well-meant actions.

[noteful]

Meg waits for a moment.

And then . . .

It's what?

[themidnightson]

It's not what he was going to say originally. But maybe that because he doesn't know what that one would have been either anymore. He hazards something else. Some scope, a frame, a reference.




"It's been seven months since Bella's birthday."

He still twinges slightly saying her name.
Even if it's something he doesn't notice.

[noteful]

"Seven months?" Meg asks.

Time moved a lot faster for him than for her, then.

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded, slow, like someone far older than he looked. "It'd been a month past it the first time you saw me, and six past it last time."

[noteful]

"Oh, Edward.

"I didn't . . .

"It's only been two or three for me."

Depending on how many times one wants to count September.

"You were away for seven months?"

Not eating.

[themidnightson]

"Yes." And the way he says it, if she hears it well enough, is agreeing to both the last questions. It's the very least of the things he could admit to. Being away that long. Not eating.


After what he'd almost done only days ago.

After any of the last few.

[noteful]

"So what did you do?

"Did you stay in Des Moines?"

[themidnightson]

"No." Edward shook his head. He reached up and scrubbed his fingers through his eternally bright, eternally messy enough to be fashionable copper hair.

"I spent the greater part of it in Rio. Almost five months."

Laying on a floor, almost unmoving, unresponsive.

[noteful]

That's not exactly the place she would have expected him to pick.

"Why Rio?"

[themidnightson]

"It was a trail that turned cold."



It's too little an explanation.
Especially to justify so long a time spent.

[noteful]

Depends on when it went cold, really.

"A trail of what?" Meg asks.

"Or to what?"

As the case may be.

[themidnightson]

Edward considered her a second.
Or maybe he was considering himself.
Being too worn to even care how much now.


Before looking to one side. "Victoria."

Beat. "I was trying to make sure Bella was safe from her."

[noteful]

He'll hear her, then, thinking back over what she knows, what he's told her, in the past.

Twice.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I know who Victoria is."

[themidnightson]

"She was James's mate."

He's really doing this, isn't he? His fingers laced over his thigh.
He needs to care more about that. He doesn't. He can't.



"The one who died for trying to kill Bella to get my attention last spring."

[noteful]

"The reason she was in the hospital."

Oh.

And you were trying to keep Victoria from some kind of vengence on Bella, for that?

Is that what happened at the party?

[themidnightson]

"Yes, and no."



Haphazardly, with a part frown.
Because he only thought about it now.

"Would you like a seat?" Or anything.

He doubts, give it being Meg, and he simply dealing with his last two appearances that were unhelpfully vague again, at the lightest description of them, that this is going to end in five minutes time.

[noteful]

"Thank you, yes," Meg says.

Because yes, this conversation is shaping up to be . . . well, an actual conversation.

Meg will wait, though, for Edward to decide exactly which seat he has just offered her.

Partly because there's no obvious seat to take.

Mostly because this would appear to be very not for public consumption, and if he wants to move them less . . . piano-in-the-middle-of-a-bar, this would seem a logical time to do so.

[themidnightson]

Edward frowned, blinking before, he raised a hand to scrub his face, as he features drew in tight, and he let out a totally unnecessary breath. He hadn't even though that far. He couldn't. Yet. And he should know better. He did once. It would have been his thought, a million seconds before hers.



"Wherever."

[noteful]

Meg looks around the bar.

Over there?

The booth is on the side of the room, well away from Bar, and the tables around it are currently unoccupied.

[themidnightson]

He nodded as he stood up, without once looking that way.

Staring at the down at the piano as his fingers came off it. It actually takes a noticeable second for him to realize he should put the cover down over the keys, too. It can't even cause a frown, only the smallest tension at the edge of his eyes.

Then he stepped away from the piano bench, and made a motion with his hand, for her to lead the way.

[noteful]

"Thank you."

It's all but automatic, as a response to an after you gesture.

Meg crosses the room, and settles into her side of the booth, and waits for Edward to continue.