With Benefits - (12 Parts)

[starpollen]

So... I hated the title to start with, but now as the story develops I'm finding it less and less offensive and more and more appropriate. Go figure. I have only just finished seeing the movie and am waiting for the books to arrive in the mail so I can read them for myself. I have read all the "outtakes" on Stephenie Meyer's site with regards to "Twilight" and have read the "Midnight Sun" pdf she has posted. This story is set during the first book. You can decide for yourself roughly when. I welcome reviews and suggestions.

And... I can't believe I'm writing FANFICTION... but, the Muse must be satisfied!! (I always think myself hopelessly inferior when it comes to fanfiction writing: I always feel like I can't capture the author's original style or their characters adequately and usually get frustrated and give up within the first 2 sentences. This time I managed to get through 5 Word document pages. I hope it isn't too terribly disappointing.)

But... my own insecurities aside... on with the show!...

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I should have expected that he would be impossible. Obsessively attractive – a more appropriate phrase might be powerfully irresistible – and, incidentally, hopelessly consumed by a shockingly wretched cold.

I didn’t think it was possible. Even without taking into account his, um, staggering supernatural powers, he is always so in control, so irritatingly self-possessed. I would have thought germs would unquestioningly yield to such superior defenses and cower before his impenetrable barriers.

As previous events should have made exhaustively plain, I should never assume ANYTHING when it comes to the Cullen family.

“Ih… IhhhkkXXXTT!!”

His ice-pale nose, fine and honed as if chiseled from arctic glaciers, wrinkles as he sniffles delicately, “Excuse me,” he mumbles, the rims of his nostrils tinged just the slightest hue darker than the depths of their inward hollows. Of course, his perfect skin could not display any pink or red – any remotely warm shade forsook his skin 90 years ago.

“Bless you,” I whisper in response, not missing the grimace of irritation that sweeps across his features for only an instant. I am sure no one but his family would have noticed it, but after the last few months together I have striven to become exceptionally attuned to the nuances of his expression. I am fairly sure the irritation is not with the tickle working its way through his long-inert sinuses, undoubtedly aggravated by his attempt to stifle the sneeze and control the instinctive reaction. No, he is more unnerved by the weakness he displays by being unable to control the infection raging through them.

Carlisle has assured us that this happens occasionally, that a select few illnesses are common among their kind. If so-called inferior species such as humans can mutate into genetically superior predators (such as vampires), so can single-celled organisms.

After all, they’ve had far more millennia to practice.

He clears his throat softly, probably desperate to cough the offending microbes out of his body, which is unable to create mucus to effectively contain them, but acutely aware of my presence and comically protective of my presumably more-fragile immune system. We have both been assured that I cannot contract it, the morphology of this particular virus being totally incompatible with my human DNA. Still, that doesn’t stop Edward from his ridiculously protective streak where I am concerned.

His breath hitches again, his amber eyes narrowing to mere slits as he fights the sensation. This time. he is successful, barely conquering the urge to expel the microscopic sources of his discomfort, the struggle leaving him bleary-eyed and sniffling despite his best attempt to remain unaffected.

“Edward…” I begin, my voice laden with concern and reproach.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, a bit too quickly. His normally smooth, bewitching voice is rough and deep. I imagine his family has been asking him that question, both spoken and silently, for days.

I think back to when this all began…

I was lying on my bed, reading another soporific chapter in my Biology book, when I heard a faint rustle of the leaves outside my window. I smiled: he must have wanted me to know he was there. Maybe hoping I would invite him in, instead of having to pretend to sneak. It’s not as if I didn’t know he came in while I was asleep: I’m not a complete idiot.

It was when I saw him fumble to open the window that my brow furrowed. Edward was never… clumsy.

No, I was indisputably queen of that department.

He swung into my room with no further signs of that initial ungrace that was so foreign to his very being. I took note, but thought little of it until later that evening, after we had lain together on the bed laughing and talking quietly for some time, when I suddenly was aware of his arm around my shoulders.

It was… temperate.

Not warm, but not his expected chill. I almost couldn’t tell where my skin ended and his began. It was definitely NOT normal; at least, what I had come to call normal where my vampire-boyfriend was concerned.

I studied him in the lamplight. His skin was its usual pallor; no help there. His eyes held their usual adoring light, no strange suggestions in his expression that hinted at what was to come. I almost wondered if it were simply that I was growing used to the feel of his skin, that it no longer felt unusual. I very nearly chalked it up to my overactive imagination.

Then, he turned his head away from me and softly cleared his throat.

I had never heard that noise from him before, nor from any member of his family. In all the time I had spent in their presence, something as seemingly insignificant as a short cough never emerged from any of the Cullens.

Every nerve was instantly on alert.

“Edward?” I had asked.

“Yes, love?” he had responded, gracing me with a spellbindingly warm smile.

I almost lost my train of thought.

“Do you feel… different?”

He paused, regarding me with a curious expression before his brow furrowed, sincerely taking stock. “How do you mean?” he asked after a moment’s consideration.

“I mean,” I reached out, laying a hand against his firm cheek. “Do you feel well?”

He smiled that smile that is all my own, infuriating in its condescension yet also endearing in its devotion. “Of course I do. I’m with you, aren’t I? Why do you ask?”

I contemplate lying. Even if he couldn’t read my thoughts, I couldn’t help but feel deceitful at even considering it.

“Well…” I began, doubt and hesitation slowing my words. “You just cleared your throat.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. Of course Edward would find it amusing that I picked up on so small a detail, and feel right in interpreting its insignificance.

“And,” I continue, determined to get through to him. “You don’t feel… cold… to me,” I finish, glancing down at his alabaster hand lying languidly against my arm just above my elbow. If my eyes had not seen it there, I would not have known it was. He flexed it, the nerves in my skin feeling the movement if not the change in temperature.

“I…” he paused, lines appearing on his face, humanizing his immaculate features. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You mean you don’t feel the least bit… weird?”

He was silent for many moments, his statuesque countenance composed in an expression of contemplation.

I waited, having learned from experience that when he was pondering what to say that it was useless (not to mention frustrating) to try and rush the process.

After several minutes of silence, he warily admitted, quietly and almost to himself:

“I… do not know.”

I gave him a moment or two to process this, before pressing him, “Do you feel anything… strange… in your head? Your throat? Your chest?” Granted, he probably remembered with perfect clarity the Spanish Influenza that had effectively ended his human life and led to his supernatural transformation almost a century ago. But I was careful with my phrasing in order not to intentionally bring those memories to the surface. He would surely dismiss them as impossible in his now-immortal state, or worse, sink into some irascible and annoying isolation from which it might take days to coax him back to companionable society again.

Thankfully, he did neither, seeming to take this time to assess his physical condition, as much as he was able to determine. Apart from smell, he was long-unaccustomed to analyzing physical sensation.

“I…” he whispered after many long moments. “I don’t think so.”

I had breathed a sigh of relief. We had lain in companionable and yet deluded silence, each drinking in the comforting presence of the other, until...

“Hehh…?”

He had gasped, his chest expanding almost involuntarily with the unexpected sensation. I had glanced up, expecting to see him poised on the beginning of a long and intellectually-exhausting response composed almost entirely of cryptic questions or terse remarks to half-unstated thoughts.

Instead, I was to bear witness to one of the most remarkable of events in my short, ordinary life.

His head had reared back, mouth open, exposing his even, white and blatantly dangerous rows of teeth. They glittered in the dim light, and I could not help but be reminded of the predator he was.

Still, I was not afraid.

His eyes were closed, his mouth slack and jaw quivering slightly. I cannot tell you what I expected, but what I got was far from it.

“Heh… ihh… HEHXXXmph!” He turned at the last minute, muffling the explosion in his right elbow.

I gasped, unable to disguise or contain my surprise. My shock.

He immediately turned his exquisite body towards me, already intending to quell my rising anxiety though his own must have been barely in check.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his eyes clouded but still reaching out with one now-normally-temperate hand to brush the hair back behind my ear that had fallen across my cheek.

“No, you’re not,” I countered, grasping that hand and squeezing to emphasize my point, staring unbrokenly into his golden eyes. “You just sneezed.”

“Bella,” he began serenely, maddeningly supercilious, but then suddenly cut himself off and turned his head to face the opposite window. I watched, every inch of my body taut with apprehension. His face relaxed into a neutral expression, the inherent majesty and ethereal nature of his being conspicuously radiant in this fancifully romantic light. He almost could be forming the answer to any number of questions: what did he think was the purpose of humanity on the earth? Which was more important: nature’s checks and balances on the population (wars, disease, natural disaster) or humanity’s obsession with the preservation of life? Where did he see himself in ten years?

Instead, his nostrils flared, and I thought for a moment that he smelled something dangerous in the air. Then, he turned even further away, his upper body convulsing with the barely-contained explosion:

“Heh-IXXGGTT!!”

And I knew I was in for a long fight.

[starpollen]

Chapter 2 - Edward's perspective

I apologize if it takes me a while to develop his illness into something truly satisfying. I feel like I have to lay all the exposition properly first, and that takes some doing when I feel as woefully ignorant of the particulars of the books’ storyline. Be kind: I'm only working off of the movie and the author's website for now. I'll probably look back at this after reading the books and shudder with revulsion... as some of you may be doing now!... (bwahahaha! I flaunt my evil careless ways!)

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When I was human, patience was not one of my strong points. In the long years since being changed, I have schooled myself in that discipline above all others. Patience and self control are strength, and I've always needed to be strong - first for my father, and then my mother, brothers, and sisters. My family, my world.

And now, for her. She's more dear to me than all the rest. The mere suggestion in the dark recesses of my mind that she might come to harm sends agony spearing my chest and terror coursing through my limbs. The animal comes to the surface, not to feed but to strike and kill and protect. I must be the strong one. I have to stay alert, for her.

This... inconvenient affliction comes at a most infuriating time. Alice has foreseen something coming, something wicked and foreboding. I know without my sister’s visions to confirm it that it's only a matter of time before it finds my Bella. She's trouble's lodestone.

After that first anomaly while lying on Bella's bed, I quickly had made an excuse in order to get home to Carlisle. I could see at once that she was not fooled by my transparent and banal statement, "It's getting late." My love is nothing if not intelligent, perceptive.

"I'm going with you." And persistent.

"No, you need your sleep," I had replied, noting her beautiful face pinched in alarm, hating myself for being the cause of her distress. It took tremendous effort to resist the urge to lean down and press my lips to her silken skin, to smooth away the crease from her brow. I was having a harder and harder time keeping my mouth to myself... and, lately, the terror that I would lose control and harm her wasn't as strong as it had been in the beginning.

As strong as it should be.

I smiled that soft, dazzling smile that causes the blush to rise in the wafer-thin skin of her cheeks. I love doing that to her, love the warm feeling that rises in my cold chest.

"Don’t worry,” I purr, caressing her neck, soft and delicate as a white rose petal. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a shimmering moment I could almost guess what she was thinking. I couldn’t see her thoughts (and probably never would), but after spending nearly every moment of my existence with her for the past months, observing her by word and deed, I have a pretty good idea what bent her thoughts are taking right now.

She knows I come in her room at night. Knows if I were coming back I would simply have said, “see you later.”

But I couldn’t promise that I would be back to watch over her as she slept. I knew she was wondering if I would, and what it would mean if I didn’t.

I was going to be miserable, staying away.

Once at home, I went straight to Carlisle’s study. I explained Bella’s notice of my curious temperature and allowed him to lay his hand against my stony brow, one of his pale eyebrows quirking up.

If he thought that was odd, he was about to be further disconcerted.

I could feel a pressure behind my eyes, a tingle shivering my nostrils. I tried my best to ignore it, to will it into submission.

I was not strong enough.

“…iihh…hikxxntt!” I pinched my nose hard, trying to control the outburst, to clamp down as it ripped through me, feeling the painful burning that speared through my head.

This was humiliating. Why couldn’t I simply control it?

“How did it feel?” Carlisle asked me softly, not missing my moment of self-censure.

“It happens so quickly,” I growled, brow furrowing. I took a deep breath, willing the headache to disappear and not having any more success than I had resisting the urge to sneeze. “I suppose it was like a burning… irresistible, consuming, like my throat felt the first time I caught Bella’s scent. Only it wasn’t in my throat, but rather as if my throat and nose had suddenly decided to try each other’s office. My mouth had opened, lungs pulling in air without my consent, and then… it happened.”

“How do you feel now?” he asked, eyes worried.

“I… sneezed.” I replied, as if that should be enough indication.

“Hm,” he said absently, eyes wandering to gaze at empty air as he thought. There was a long pause.

And then he began to explain, slowly and softly, about mutated viruses, single-celled evolutionary development over the centuries since the first vampire’s emergence. I understood most of it thanks to my studies, listened in silence to his anecdotal evidence. He had seen two such of our kind afflicted in the last century, and explained that it was more common among those of us who feasted solely on the blood of animals.

“These viruses are equipped with strong anchoring receptors, strong enough to attach to the normally impervious cells in a vampire’s nose and throat, and then rewrite their DNA to mimic them. They then use this DNA to replicate more virus cells allowing the cold to spread, just like a human cold,” he continued, becoming more animated as he became engrossed in the impartial science of it. “The antibodies present in human blood tend to incapacitate the pathogen. Because you don’t keep human blood in your system,” his eyes grew grave. “You will have to let it take its course.”

He hesitated, obviously reluctant to say the next. “I can try to sneak a bag or two from the hospital if your illness reaches a certain state…” he finished quietly.

I knew what he did not say – giving me human blood was a last resort. It would undoubtedly awaken the monster within, and once given that small taste would be extremely difficult to shut away again. I would have to be controlled for some time; it would take the entire family to restrain me, to keep me in check. And, at least for Jasper and Rose, and perhaps even for Emmett, the smell of it on me might prove too much.

“What will happen without… treatment?” I asked softly, staring into his golden eyes.

I ran through the possible scenarios in my mind. Of course, the worst possible also seemed to be the least likely: I could not hope to die… And truly, deep within, a small voice was telling me I feared it now. Now that I might leave Bella alone.

Alone and unprotected.

“Well,” he replied, reaching into his desk and withdrawing an ebony cigar box. “It will get worse before it gets better: I cannot lie. But it will mirror a human cold by most outward appearances. A shaking of the limbs akin to chills, a parching feeling akin to fever, fatigue, coughing, and…”

A sudden rather short gasp caught me unawares and I snapped forward into a poorly stifled, “Hhk—NggSSHh…huh.”

“…sneezing,” his eyes glittered with what was almost amusement, and he snapped open the black box and handed a soft white square across the desk.

“Thank you,” I replied, politeness ingrained in my responses. I dabbed my rebellious nose with the soft handkerchief, assessing the damage.

I watched as he closed the box reverently, a chagrined expression betraying a hooded past regarding that particular object.

When we move, we often abandon the bulk of our possessions: only those few tokens we hold dear are transported: my music, Carlisle’s medical texts, a few key pieces of Rose’s wardrobe. Humans attach themselves so completely to objects as if justifying their brief existence with relics and artifacts of their momentary appearance on this earth. Our family is attached to itself, to things not replaceable, even considering our vast wealth. Cars, yes, which represent freedom, escape, and perhaps privacy and independence.

“As your body cannot create moisture other than venom,” my father explained, returning the box to his drawer before standing and coming around to kneel at my side. “You will suffer the indignities of a human cold with some modifications.” He took my hand and brought the handkerchief into the light so I could see the tiny spots glistening there. “Your chest will most likely rattle but will remain clear of fluid. Your nose will run and you must take care to conceal the emissions as they will be silver, as mercury.” Indeed, there was some quicksilver color staining the fabric, winking in the light. “Your body will attempt to expel the invaders, a response that evolution has not eliminated from our instincts. Of course, you have no heart to increase its beat to speed an immune system to your aide, though your body is curiously trying to create a temperature in an effort to make an inhospitable environment for the virus,” His chill hand brushes my unruly hair back from my eyes and rests gently against my forehead. “Come in, Alice,” he removed his hand, which I must admit had felt soothing, and stood with immortal grace

I am surprised I had not sensed her outside the door, but I had been intently focused on what my father had been saying, searching for any hint that I was a danger to Bella and needed to stay away from her until I was well again. So far, apart from the blood treatment, nothing raised alarm.

“I’m sorry, Edward,” she laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, her thoughts swirling with apology. “I didn’t see it until you were already on your way home.”

“I hadn’t been aware of it myself,” I replied, reaching up with one of my hands to lay atop hers. “Carlisle has just explained it is nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that, necessarily,” he quipped, chuckling patiently at my wishful assumption. “Like a normal cold virus feeds on human energy, so will this species feed on yours. You will need to eat more often. We may have to try to capture an animal or two to keep here at the house in case you need immediate nutrition,” he mused, almost to himself.

“Esme and I can help,” Alice toned, knowing my mother would feel a deep and irrefutable need to hover. It will keep her out of your hair.

“Thank you,” I replied to her as I contemplated this. “How often must I hunt?”

“Once a day,” he replied, eyes grave. “Your venom is both your weakness and your strength. The virus will feed on it and increase. However, there will come a time when the venom will saturate the pathogen so much that it will poison the microbes, and wither them. But it will take some days, perhaps more than a week. Until the germs begin to die, you will feel sluggish. You will not feel the urge to feed, though you must to keep up your strength. It can happen with this illness that you become too weak to move, too weak to hunt. You will need to be watched closely because it can come on quite suddenly. If you reach that state of weakness, your body will begin to emit pheromones that will send any vampire within a certain proximity to you into a frenzy. Their own craving for human blood will be irresistible.”

Alice and I were silent. Even her thoughts shocked to stillness.

“It is an evolutionary protection device, or the closest thing we have, I suppose,” he finished. “You need fluids. And rest. You will feel drained as the illness takes its course.” One side of his mouth turned up in a wry grin. “You might even sleep, briefly, as your body works to make more of the venom that will rid itself of the disease.”

“Is this contagious?” I finally thought to ask.

“Yes, to vampires.” His eyes flicked from me to Alice. “You might want to keep your distance for a few days.” Alice took a step back.

I had much to ponder. I knew I wanted to continue to go to school, as my absences so far this year had been numerous and inexplicable. Plus, the appearance of human illness might help build some credit for my family in the town, dispel some of the “unnatural freak” vibes. I am sure several teachers will take pity on my sorry state. But I would have to keep away from the others: Alice, Emmet, Rose, and Jasper. Since I had begun picking Bella up in the morning and eating lunch with her, it would only be in those classes we shared.

The one bright point of all of this was that I could be near Bella without fear of infecting her, and without her blood being a temptation. My father had said I would not feel like feeding, even though my body would need to. My body thrilled at the prospect of being able to touch her, lay next to her, maybe even kiss...

Lucky you, huh? Alice’s mind smirked, interrupting my fantasies. No doubt she had glimpsed me spending as much time as I could with Bella over the next few days, drinking in as much as I could before I returned to “normal.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, standing and giving another tight, restrained “hh-ngkt!” into the handkerchief. I was still unaccustomed to the warning signs, and cannot seem to tell when one will sneak up on me.

Bless you! Alice chirped, skipping like a sprite from the room.

Carlisle and I went hunting immediately. As expert as my father is, we were unable to capture any prey alive. We’d have to send Alice and Esme later to accomplish this task: they have a better gift for subtlety. As we set out to return to the house, I began to experience a heaviness in my limbs that foretold what was to come. Dragging my body into the living room, feeling an ache settle into my legs, I was suddenly very happy we own comfortable furniture. The fox den we found sated my thirst and gave me strength to return home, but I can feel that I must be careful how I spend my strength. Definitely I would not be heading back to Bella’s tonight, as much as I longed to crawl into bed beside her and curl my body around hers, drinking in the comfort of her presence. I needed to spend my strength wisely until tomorrow’s hunt.

I spent the rest of the night in perfect stillness, waiting. Sometimes listening to my family’s minds, at other times assessing the development of my illness.

“Hah...nxxtSCH!.. ihh… ngkTSCHuu!”

Two at once. This was not a good sign. I could feel congestion collecting in my sinuses and trickling down my throat. Presumably it was an overproduction of venom as my body begins the fight to overwhelm the pathogen.

I sighed. I envied humans their ability to sleep, to break up the long expanse that is time. It is one reason I tolerate being sent to school for the eternity of my existence: the bells and succession of classes mark the passage of hours, days. Carlisle also insists we attend so that we can continually practice our self-control, the continual exposure building up an immunity to the temptation of their blood. Also so that we can keep up with the changing discoveries and inventions of humanity, and to appear like a normal human family. But I know if we truly refused to attend he would understand. It does get monotonous, the same information for years before a new breakthrough or challenge to our intellect and abilities. He loves us, wants what is best for us as a family of course, but above all he desires our happiness.

Even though, of anyone in our family, he has lived the longest as a vampire, he remains the most human of us all.

[Cerulean Flower]

Your writing style is very enjoyable. It draws the reader in. I love all these Twilight fics that have been posted lately. Keep up the good work. Can't wait to see where this story goes.

[krazykat]

I haven't read these books, but if they are anywhere near as well written as this piece then I am seriously considering heading down to Borders to buy my Christmas read. If you haven't guessed already, I'm really enjoying this... great work!

[starpollen]

Chapter 3 - a double chapter as we'll get Bella and Edward's perspectives again.

To Sister Chromatid, ZaNeesee, me211152004, Tangerine, krazycat, SunSprite & spoo - you have NO IDEA how much your feedback means to me! It really helps me get over myself and keep writing instead of surrendering to the judgemental monster inside and giving up. If you've got any suggestions (specifically with regards to "Twilight" plot) feel free to message me! I welcome assistance!

And now, another chapter...

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Edward appeared the next morning, as has become our habit, to drive me to school. I darted off the porch, surprised when I didn't trip, rushing to him.

"You're here," I barely whispered, unable to stop the sigh of relief. I had not slept well, tossing and turning as I worried about him, imagining the most terrible thought – that he would leave again, "for my own good," disappearing into the forest without saying goodbye. I even imagined for a brief instant that he might truly be sick, some strange vampire plague that might cause him discomfort or pain. That thought both frightened and fascinated me. To see him in need would be so… wrong. And yet… I couldn't help but hope that maybe… just maybe…

He'd be in need of me.

The thought nearly stopped my heart.

"Of course I'm here," he murmured, a gently chiding expression on his face at the baffling suggestion he wouldn't be.

As I reached a tentative hand up to his cheek, his hand caught mine, holding the backs of my fingers lightly to his unnaturally tepid skin for only a moment before turning to brush his lips to them. His eyes closed briefly, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was a moment of pleasure for him, or a moment of struggle. He is always so careful when touching me, not trusting himself. Those amber eyes opened again to regard me, and his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile.

He seemed unchanged: no better, but no worse. And he was here, his strong hand holding mine tenderly, gentle worship in his gaze. It allowed the fear in my spine to melt a little.

Edward opened the car door for me, as usual, one hand gently at the small of my back, and I felt that strange mix of awkwardness and gratitude that caused the blush to creep up my neck and butterflies to flutter my stomach. I got in and he carefully closed the door, mindful of my jacket and legs. Before I could blink he was around the other side of the car and getting in the drivers' seat, the engine thrumming to life as we pulled out of the yard.

I allowed a moment or two of silence, watching as he expertly shifted gears to take us to his preferred, breakneck speed. Then...

"So…?" I asked softly.

"So… what?" he toned, seeming distracted by the road, which I knew was ridiculous as he could drive with his eyes closed if he wished. No, he was avoiding the topic.

"You know what," I barked, frustrated. "What did Carlisle say? What's wrong with you?"

He tried to smirk, but it came out more like a grimace. "What makes you think anything is wrong with me?" he muttered through gritted teeth, shifting into fifth.

Then, his face changed. I could see his gaze becoming vacant, his mouth set tight. His lips pursed, as if he were trying to keep from breathing. I stiffened, like a cat ready to pounce: I knew it shouldn't have been a struggle for him, not breathing. His right hand left the gear shift, going to the inner pocket of his jacket, and our speed slowed as his foot came off the accelerator. Slowly, his eyes closed, and I saw his nose wrinkle, and… twitch.

With a wrenching snap, his head came forward just as his hand brought a white cloth up to his face, delivering a tight, desperate "ihhh-xxmmp!" into it. He raised his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes, the cloth disappearing almost as if it hadn't existed, and a small "ahh" whistled through his perfect lips.

I just crossed my arms and glared at him. His eyes flicked to me once, then back to the road.

"It's nothing," he muttered, clearly put out by the display, so quick and quiet that it might have not happened, except for the small flaring of his nostrils, and the almost imperceptible sniff that followed his statement. Once, he might have tried to convince me that it was my imagination. He knew better now.

"Nothing,” I muttered mockingly. “Yeah, right.” If he wanted to be stubborn, to shut me out, there was little I could do to stop him. So, I sat there, radiating frustration and displeasure.

How was it that he could shift my mood from weak-kneed relief to searing frustration as quickly as he took his car from second to fifth?

He sat in stony silence, near stillness, for another brief second, and then his face broke into a soft smile. He reached over, laying his rock-hard hand on my knee, and squeezed gently. My mouth dropped open slightly, surprised by this intimate contact. He is always so careful about touching me, seemingly afraid that he will either bite me or break me. But this movement was easy, languid, like something he had been dying to do for the longest time and was finally given the freedom to savor it.

Hesitantly, I took his hand in mine, half expecting at any moment for him to snatch it back as he's done before. We laced our fingers together, my skin soft and pliant, his still stiff and unyielding, but both, for the first time, warm.

I should have been panicked. But, somehow, looking up at his relaxed and strangely innocent face, beaming like a child's with the wonder of a new discovery, I couldn't bring myself to fear. Instead, I settled back against the seat, reveling in the feel of our conjoined hands.

In this comfortable silence we pulled into the parking lot and he walked me to my first class. I was acutely aware of him, the casual brush of his arm on mine as we walked, the way he leisurely cupped his hand at the base of the back of my neck when he opened the door for me, and then trailed it down my shoulder blades to the small of my back again as he ushered me inside. His fingertips lingered, and I imagined them burning small holes in my shirt with the electricity that crackled between us at that intimate touch.

He makes me feel graceful, elegant, as if just being with him will impart to me some of that ethereal glamour that imbues his kind.

I could not help the fantasy, even as my toes caught on the door frame, shattering it. His hand was under my elbow before I could stumble, supporting my weight until my feet were under me again. I blushed, glancing up at him in embarrassed thanks.

His head was turned away, his other hand up at his face, presumably pinching his nose closed as his shoulders hunched with a near-silent "He’xxt!"

My mouth opened, jumping at the chance to interrogate him, but he swiftly turned his head back to me, brushing his lips against my forehead with a murmured “See you at lunch,” and was gone, striding away towards his class.

I stared after him, watching his tall form glide through the crowd, knowing I wasn’t about to let this go.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

I barely got away from her in time. Stalking down the hall, I cleared my throat several times once I got out of earshot, eyes scanning the doors. Amazing, I’ve been attending this school for so long and yet have no idea where the blasted bathrooms are!

I finally spotted the boys’, and ducked inside even as the bell rang. No one else was inside, no one else choosing this particular location to ditch class.

No one except me. And I had a very good reason.

I pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket, hands grasping the sides of a sink, waiting. My head hung down, eyes closed, nearly all my focus on the sensation in my nose.

This feeling is so long-forgotten, so faded in my memory that I had quite forgotten how maddening it is. It wormed its way through my sinuses, dancing to wake nerve endings and inflame them with irritation.

My chest heaved, and I lifted both hands to cover nose and mouth with the cloth. My breath came fast and heavy, my whole body pulling back despite my best effort to control it, then it snapped forward in spasm. I clamped down with all my strength, reducing it to a soft "Nxxch!"Pressure exploded through my head, nearly propelling my eyes out my sockets and pain spearing my ears.

I exhaled, louder than the sneeze itself, and sniffed, even louder still. I rubbed at my ears once, trying to quell the sensation. This was not comfortable, not convenient. If only we couldn’t feel pain.

If only we couldn’t sneeze.

I could feel another coming, a teasing tickle that seemed at first tiny, insignificant really, but quickly built to irresistible NEED. More powerful than rage, or fear, or even the wrecking-ball thirst I felt for Bella’s blood when first I laid eyes on her. This seized me, possessed me, a tormenting demon that would not be ignored, would not be fought, would not be distracted or denied.

I was trying hard to hold it back by scrunching up my face, trying to get at the itch. One glance at the mirror gave me an image of it, so comical I would have laughed had I been able. My slim, pale fingers pinched my nose, feeling my nostrils shiver beneath them.

I kept imagining that I would be able to control this, would find that one trick, one effective technique to manage such a humiliating weakness.

"Huh.. hahhh…" I couldn’t help it; its strength was too much for me. I managed to stifle it at the last second. "IHH-xxnnt!"

Again, the pain, the pressure, a sigh of exhausted frustration. Again, I was weak.

Pathetic.

I needed to sneeze again. Badly. No doubt stifling them was keeping the irritation inside. My nose burned, my knuckles crushing and rubbing against it as I attempted to quench the fire. I both prayed desperately for it to go away and begged wretchedly for it to come. Anything to relieve this torture.

It seemed momentarily stuck.

My face contorted, breathing shallow and rapid, eyes half-lidded. With one hand I fanned the air in front of my face, some bizarre gesture my body remembered that my mind did not, and with the other raised the handkerchief near my nose and mouth to be ready when it came.

Finally, after many long seconds, which seemed like hours, it came, with company. Handkerchief clamped to my face, I tried to keep as quiet and discrete as possible, for I was heartily tired of stifling, hating the feeling that ripped through my head when I did, but at the same time I didn’t – couldn’t – let myself lose control completely.

My nose seemed to take advantage of my frailty. The reaction was powerful, overwhelming my body completely. I haven’t succumbed to my body’s desires so utterly, so helplessly, in 70 years. “ihh-HIIshh! Eh-IIshh! HehCCHhhh!”

A final, wrenching double: “eh-ITTSSH! IHH-SSSHH! Ahhh…”

I sighed when the fit ended, sniffling and blowing my nose immediately after, noting with a pang that it was a very liquid blow, silver conspicuously staining the cloth.

That was the most intense episode yet. I was alarmed at the severity of it, at the speed with which the illness seemed to be escalating. Carlisle had mentioned that this affliction could last a week or more…

There was going to be no way to hide the evidence if my body kept this up. I scowled at the moist cloth in my hands. One more such performance and I would need a clean handkerchief. I would have to resist the urge until I got home.

I regarded myself in the mirror, jaw clenching in determination. For the first time since being turned, I felt uncertain about my body’s strength.

After all, it was only 1st period.

[ooo]

Wow. Just wow.

This is absolutely fantastic so far, I'm loving it!! I think you're doing a wonderful job of keeping with the book, and I adore your writing style, I think you're an incredible writer.

Thank you!! Very much looking forward to more!

[starpollen]

I almost cringe to post this after reading ooo's BONE-MELTING ending to "Role Reversal," but since this is on the other forum and I've been posting on both I guess it's only fair...

Still - READ HER FIC! :-) Gaah! I can't even speak! Coherency has fled!...

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Chapter 4 – Bella

The minutes now dragged in a way I never would have though possible. In the spaces between seeing him, time slows to an inane crawl, getting worse every day that passes. My eyes flicked to the clock, watching the agonizing sweep of the red second hand around the white face.

It was the same in the next class. And the one that followed. I barely noticed my surroundings, even when Jessica prattled on about the dinner she’d had with Mike’s parents. I tossed in the appropriate, “hm” and “really,” when there was a pause in her monologue, but if she’d asked I couldn’t have repeated any more than one or two skeletal points.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, I popped out of my chair like a whip, not even bothering to acknowledge Jessica’s “hey!” as I raced towards the cafeteria. I ricocheted against the lockers, cracking my arm on the frame and surely gaining a nice bruise, but that didn’t slow me. I found our table, dumping my stuff on the floor and turning my chair to face the door he would enter, eyes glued to the swath of students that surged through like ants.

Funny, but I had never truly appreciated the insignificance of other humans until this moment. All I wanted was to see his face, hear his voice. I needed him now. Any second longer and I was sure my heart would hemorrhage from the strain.

I watched his family enter, skimming through the tide of bodies like hawks over glacial waters, descending on ‘their table’ with criminal grace. I regarded them with awe and trepidation. Emmett and Rose, vibrating with strength and beauty, frozen in immortal stillness. Jasper and Alice, softer around the edges, more connected to humanity through their gifts.

Still, no Edward.

I caught Alice’s eye across the room. She blinked, recognizing my unspoken question. Cocking her head, her eyes lost focus for a moment, then her head turned…

He came striding in the door, one of the last, cruising across the open expanse towards me as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Catching my troubled gaze, he gave a reassuring smile.

I had not picked up any food, and when he noticed the empty table his brow furrowed, a frown pulling at his lips. Ducking towards the lunch line, he grabbed an apple, a slice of pizza, and a coke, knowing my usual preferences. He set the tray gently in front of me, his free hand stroking down the back of my head, smoothing my surely-ruffled hair. I wondered if his gesture was intended not to allow me access to gauge the temperature of his skin.

“Thanks,” I murmured, allowing his purred “You’re welcome,” to send my own temperature soaring.

He sat opposite me, favoring the chair shadowed by the wall behind. My chair faced the window, taking full advantage of any shaft of sun that managed to fight its way through the thick clouds.

“How is your day?” he asked politely as I took a bite of the apple. My stomach growled at the first whiff of its fragrant juices.

Hm. Not a good time to think about the similarity in our circumstances.

“Okay,” I answered around a mouthful of sweet pulp. “Yours?”

He chuckled with what could be humor, or irony. “It’s been… interesting.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He glanced backward at the table where his family sat, seeming to share a silent exchange with Alice for a fraction of a second. Whatever he saw in her mind did not seem to reassure him, for he scowled, jerking his head back to me with a frown.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” I continued, watching as his eyes narrowed and he brought a knuckle up to swipe at his nose, trying for casual. It could have been a planned gesture: vampires are naturally inclined to absolute stillness and must remind themselves to shift and fidget like humans in order to keep up the pretense. But I was wary.

“We went over an interesting section in history,” he continued, infuriatingly blasé. “Napoleon. Fascinating military mind, despite the obvious neuroses…”

I kicked him under the table, not missing his smirk at my futile display of temper. “You know that isn’t the question I meant,” I hissed.

He chuckled softly, the tail end of it sounding almost suspiciously like a cough. He turned his head again, ear cocked once more toward Alice.

“You know, it’s rude to communicate telepathically at the table,” I added, my voice sugar-sweet with sarcasm.

He opened his mouth to respond, then suddenly turned his head away towards the wall, swallowing loudly enough for me to hear it.

“Edward…?” I asked softly, concerned.

He sniffed urgently, seeming to fight with his body for several long moments before finally withdrawing the handkerchief from his jacket and releasing an emphatic, “hh’MPTkgght!” into the cloth. He seemed reluctant to use it, though the… insistent nature of the explosion seemed to warrant its service. It disappeared as quickly as it had come, his hands returning to the table as he struggled to compose his chiseled features back into their typical stoic mask. His chin was still quivering, lips pursed, and I wondered if he could resist the urge, and –if so - if he would even acknowledge the incident.

He lost the battle, eyes shuttering closed, lips parting. I gaped as he whirled to squelch a second, savagely contained, “hhk’NGssh!” into his shoulder.

“You are sick!” I accused, my voice rising an octave in disbelief.

As if to confirm my diagnosis, Edward’s hands flew to his nose, pinching it shut as he flinched into a tightly contained, “h’NKght!” head bobbing forward in one curt slice. He kept his head bowed, but his eyes flicked up to look at me, the distress and utter shame that burned in their depths contracting my heart.

“Bella, c-could yiihh…y-you…” his voice was breathy, shivery, as if barely maintaining control. “Huhhh… hand me… ihh… n-napkin…?” His eyes pleaded, long fingers still brutally crushing his nostrils shut. I snapped mine up from the table with lightning speed but was still surprised when it was gone from my hands without my eyes tracking the movement. He never moves as quickly as he can when we are in public: it’s a danger not only to him but to his entire family.

We were in the cafeteria, in full view of everyone, his raw desperation overwhelming every protective instinct.

He clenched the napkin to his nose as a forceful, wet “hIh!... NTCHsshu!” wrenched his body, leaving him bleary eyed and sniffling. He sat back with a languid sigh, noticeably relieved. I noticed with horrified fascination that a thin trickle of silver was seeping out one nostril toward his upper lip.

Without a word, I leaned across the table and took the napkin from his hands, dabbing it gently under his nose.

His golden eyes widened first with surprise, then stretched further into horror when he glanced down at the paper in my hand. He snatched it from me roughly, growling deep in the back of his throat.

“I’m fine.”

I’m sure my stare would have incinerated any mortal creature. But he just sat there, eyes locked on the silver-stained napkin in his hands, avoiding my gaze.

Without a word, I stood silently, listening behind me and not surprised to hear his questioning “Bella?” follow me as I stalked across the room. I made a beeline for Alice, watching as she stood, gliding towards me almost at the same moment, no question on her beautiful, fairy-like face.

“Come with me,” she trilled, slipping one marble arm in mine and leading me through the emergency exit door that was never alarmed, outside into the misty, overcast air.

Leaning against the cold brick, she regarded me with wide, fascinated eyes. Her expression was hopeful, yearning, and not the kind of hunger I might have expected, considering what she was.

I wanted to ask about it, but another question shoved its way to the foreground. “What’s going on with Edward?”

“He’s going to be fine,” she replied, trying to reassure me. “But he’s going to need you for the next few days.”

Her eyes were drawn to something behind me, and I turned to see him standing a few feet away, just outside the door. His hands were in his pockets, his head down.

“Edward?” Alice toned, her voice like silvery bells pealing in the silence. “You should tell her.”

His eyes shot daggers at her.

I turned, gazing up at him with patient expectation, stomach swirling with foreboding. I knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to admit any failing, especially anything he knew would cause me worry.

This obviously qualified.

He spun around quickly, sneezing into the crook of his elbow, “ih’MPXggsh!… ah…” the action consuming his body with a helpless shiver of release.

I turned back to Alice.

“He’s sick??” I asked, incredulous, not missing the banality of questioning the obvious.

Her silence was answer enough.

“But… how??” I demanded, including both of them in my interrogation.

“Carlisle said…” she began, but Edward cut her off.

“It’s not serious. It happens sometimes to our kind. He said it will pass in a few days.” She took a step towards him, and I didn’t miss the hand he held up to keep her at a distance. Her expression was hurt, but resigned.

“It’s contagious,” I blurted; surprised I hadn’t considered that reality in the gossamer wisps of my fantasies. “That’s why you’re not staying home from school.”

He inhaled sharply and flinched, a harsh “nh’gkht!” of impressively contained sound muffled into his fist. This was followed by a strained, “h’NKggkt!” and a less contained, “ih’nxgkSCHH!” that ended with a long, burbling sniffle.

“Actually,” Alice supplied for him as he took out the handkerchief to dab at his nose again. I wondered that he didn’t simply blow, sinuses obviously swimming with congestion. “We couldn’t have kept him home if we tried,” she smiled warmly, eyes shining as they regarded me. “He can’t bear to be away from you.”

I was stunned to silence for a long moment, listening to his quiet, incessant sniffles. “You mean…” I began slowly. “I can’t get it?”

Alice’s face broke into a wide grin. “No.”

I should have figured this out long before now. If I were in any way susceptible to the infection, he would have stubbornly kept his distance despite any protest I could have made, despite my supposedly magnetic pull on him.

The myriad of possibilities splashed in van Gogh-like strokes before my eyes. “So…” I continued, my head going back and forth between the two pale siblings as if watching a tennis match. “A vampire can get sick. It can’t be passed to a human. But he can’t stay with you because it could pass to everyone else.”

Alice nodded.

My thoughts kept following this new, uncharted path. “And… it must be dangerous to everyone else. Or else he wouldn’t be so worried about you keeping your distance.”

Alice’s pert mouth turned in a smirk. She laid one hand on her hip, cocking her pixie-cut at Edward. “I told you, she’s smart.”

Edward scowled at his feet and muttered, “Too smart for her own good." I whirled to face him, stunned at his callous tone.

Alice’s icy hand on my shoulder stopped me. “Easy,” she whispered, low and soothing. “This is hard for him.” He could hear her, and looked away, gazing off as if contemplating something into the dense forest. If he could have blushed, his face would have burned crimson. “He doesn’t know how to let go.”

“I can’t afford it!” he shot back fiercely, eyes blazing with anger. Not for me, for himself. My eyes narrowed. There wasn’t just anger, though that was what burned closest to the surface; below that, swirling in dark eddies, there was also fear.

The fear. Now, that was for me.

“We can’t afford it,” he tried to amend, tone trailing off into a pitiful kind of whimper. I knew he was trying to include his family, but in reality was still talking about me. About us. And the guilt he felt at that fact must have sliced at his heart.

“Take him home,” she continued, giving me a light shove. “Carlisle says he needs rest. It’s going to run its course in four or five days, but you need to keep a close eye on him because it could get worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” I asked, directing the question more at Edward than Alice.

“It’s sapping my strength,” he replied, looking deep into my eyes, tone low and serious. “I need to eat every day. I need to be watched so I don’t get too weak. If I do, I’ll draw every blood-crazed vampire in the state to me.” His eyes burned into mine. “To you.” He seemed determined to scare me into flight.

He should know better by now.

“Let’s go.” I took his arm, steering him towards the parking lot. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Alice's placid gaze. "Thanks."

She smiled, waving us on. I wished fleetingly that we had taken the truck, but Edward had proven that morning that his condition didn’t affect his driving.

We crossed the pavement in silence, tension strung taut between us.

Then, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, so soft I almost didn’t hear it. Stopping next to his car, I turned to face him. His hypnotic amber eyes held me fast, his sculpted body still radiating strength, protection, and adoration as he gazed deep into my eyes.

“Edward,” I sighed, shaking my head. “When are you going to figure it out? I don't care what you are. You can keep trying to push me away, and it's not going to work. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

He smiled ‘my smile’ – lofty and loving, condescending and compassionate. “Believe me,” he sighed, leaning in close. “I like it,” he whispered, just before his lips pressed reverently to mine.

Edited December 21, 2008 by starpollen

[Guest Pisces101]

OMG! lovelovelovelovelove...

Fantastic! Pleasepleaseplease continue?

[ooo]

Another incredible part! I love the way you're crafting this, so much detail and very clever plot as well as -worthy Edward-sneezing!! Very much looking forward to more!

[starpollen]

*sigh* I can't for the LIFE of me figure out how to update the number of chapters listed on the title of this thread! Oh well. These 2 new chapters are for ooo, Pisces101, Cerulean Flower, and krazykat. If anybody else enjoys them, bonus! :-) Love you guys! Happy Holidays!

Chapter 5 - Edward

The speed of my rapid decline caused every fiber of my being to shudder with trepidation. It was a little over twelve hours since the first symptom appeared, and already I felt I must be in the full throes of the affliction.

Surely my contemptible display in the cafeteria was proof enough of that.

I managed to get us to Bella’s house without another unfortunate episode, though my limbs were beginning to ache, a heaviness settling in my head. Mercifully, Bella did not force conversation. She simply watched me, her chocolate eyes sharp for any information my body might betray.

I felt like her so-called “open book.”

I was sniffling constantly, intent on keeping the flow under control, loathe to bring out my only handkerchief unless absolutely necessary. Each swallow sent the acidic venom that trickled down from my nose and lived in my cheek glands searing down my throat, and I wished desperately that I could drink a cold glass of water.

It’s amazing: I haven’t though about a drink of water in so long. Long enough that my thirst now seems appropriately equal to the length of my deprivation.

Alice had said, in her head as we walked away towards the car, that she would bring me something to eat later tonight, flashing an image of a cougar cub lying freshly killed on Bella’s back porch. It set me salivating, but I struggled to repress the image so as not to lose control.

I was torn between a raging thirst for it, and the crashing horror that Bella might witness me gorging myself on its hot, thick…

I stopped, grinding my teeth and holding my breath. Carlisle’s voice came back to me, and I realized with a shock that I must not yet be at the worst point of the disease...

I still desired blood.

Parking the car, I whisked around to open Bella’s door, not giving a second thought to the energy I expended to do it. This slight infirmity is no excuse for not being a gentleman.

I took her hand in mine, lifting her carefully from the car. Her dark eyes still regarded me with love, acceptance, and no trace of fear. No matter how often I see it, it perplexes me, fascinates me, humbles me.

How can she bear to be near me? How can she possibly love such a monster... a beast?

Her soft hand linked with mine and gave a loving squeeze, immediately banishing all dark thoughts. She took me in the house, and for the first time we walked up the stairs to her room together, hand in hand. Once upstairs, she sat me on the bed.

“Take off your shoes,” she ordered, and I could not help but chuckle softly. She was doing that tiger-kitten impression that I find so endearing. “And your coat.”

I complied, discreetly snatching the handkerchief while she was distracted and pushing it into the pocket of my jeans. I allowed her to pile pillows against the headboard and pull back the blanket so I could swing my legs underneath. A disturbing thought suddenly came to mind.

“What about your father?” I asked, concerned. “What’s he going to do if he finds me, you know, in your bed?” I didn’t want to cause trouble between them; this damned ‘vampire cold’ was trouble enough.

She paused, that familiar furrow appearing on her brow. “I’ll… I’ll think of something.”

I almost left right then, thoughts already spinning with which hotel I would stay at until this passed, but something in her face stopped me. The troubled expression melted away, replaced by a calm efficiency that made her seem almost… cheerful as she smoothed the blankets covering my legs.

Of course, I thought stupidly. She’s a caretaker. This is when she feels the happiest, the most useful.

She stood, bending over me and pushing my unruly hair back from my forehead. As she pressed her soft, warm lips to my brow, her hair swung down and brushed my face, her scent crashing over me.

I braced myself.

But instead of venom flooding my mouth and muscles coiling in preparation to strike, her fragrance sent a pervading lethargy speeding through my limbs, calming every tension and unwinding every knot in my body.

I gasped. Nothing had ever done that to me before.

Eyes wide, I relaxed into the pillows, watching her. She took off her own coat, kicking off her shoes and tossing all three items at various places around the room. Sifting through the piles of books and CDs on the floor, she came up with a battered tissue box, placing it on the nightstand next to me.

“Just in case,” she remarked, one side of her lovely mouth turned up wryly.

As if the mere presence of the box stimulated it, a sharp prick stabbed deep in my right nostril. My lip flinched up reflexively, and I sniffled, hearing at once the viscous sound it made. The prickle grew, writhing through the passage, spreading to the other side, until even the roof of my mouth itched and burned with desire for release.

I pulled three tissues from the box as my breath began to shudder, noting with chagrin how thin and insubstantial they seemed. Surely they wouldn’t survive the ferocity of my superhuman sneezes…

It barreled through me with the force of a freight train, two strangled explosions rocking my body, “Hh’nggktch! Nkggsht!” I clamped the paper to my nose and mouth, cringing to feel moisture from the blasts seeping through the layers, dampening my fingers. But, curiously, the most overwhelming sensation I felt afterwards – more that shame, more than disgust – was relief. The maddening tickle had been satisfied. I sighed deeply, closing my eyes and reveling in the aftermath.

It was so oddly satisfying, I chuckled softly to myself.

“What’s so funny?” Bella asked, drawing up the rocking chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed.

I turned towards her. She settled into the rocker, pulling her knees up to her chest, her thick hair spilling around her shoulders in soft, beautiful waves. Her ivory-kissed face was open, curious, her eyes dark, quiet pools.

“I never thought about it when I was human,” I answered, my voice sounding deeper than it should in the early afternoon quiet. “How satisfying it is to sneeze.”

Her head cocked as she considered this, and after a moment her pink lips curved into a wide grin. “I guess you’re right. Like an itch that needs to be scratched, or a pressure that needs to be relieved…” She shifted in her seat, eyes flicking away, as if she’d said too much.

I did not know what discomfited her, but was not given the opportunity to ask as she returned to the unfinished discussion of that morning. “What else did Carlisle say? Besides the fact that this will run its course in a few days, that it’s contagious, and that you could get so weak you might somehow draw every vampire in the state to your side?”

I sighed, rolling my head back to gaze at the cracked ceiling. For one brief instant I had a vivid flashback to 1918, lying ill in a bed staring up at another ceiling, also cracked, but I shook that memory away.

I quietly explained what Carlisle had said about the evolution of the virus, purposefully leaving out the cure that could be found within human blood. Her brow was furrowed throughout my report, and if she detected the omission, her expression did not betray it.

“So I just need to wait it out,” I finished, crossing my arms behind my head.

She was silent for a few moments, her curious mind working. Not for the first time I burned to be able to read what she was thinking.

“When will you need… nourishment… again?” she finally murmured.

I winced, startled that that would be what she would ask first. Would I never be able to predict her reactions accurately?? “Later tonight,” I muttered, low and annoyed. “Alice is bringing me… dinner.”

I prayed she wouldn’t ask what I was having.

She didn’t seem disturbed by this, falling to quiet contemplation again. I rolled onto my side, studying her in the watery, overcast light. I allowed her a few more minutes of introspection before I could no longer contain my curiosity.

“What are you thinking?” I whispered intently, wishing I could ask her that question every moment of every day.

She didn’t raise her head, brow still furrowed, seemingly intent on a worn spot at the knee of her jeans. “I… I want to know how, exactly, other vampires might be drawn to you,” she finally uttered. “If you get too… weak.”

“How!?” I retorted angrily, voice rising an octave in frustration. “That doesn’t matter!” I sat up like a shot, incensed that she could dwell on the petty how’s and why’s when the cold hard fact would prove deadly to anyone within a hundred miles of me. “All that matters is that they will! Every human in Forks will be vulnerable. Can you imagine Jessica, or Angela, or Charlie in the hands of a blood-crazed vampire? No one will be safe! My family won’t be safe!” my voice broke, and I clenched my fists against my burning eyes, wishing they could be relieved with tears, knowing bitterly they could not. “You won’t be safe,” I ended in a whisper.

If I were weak enough to draw other vampires, I would be powerless to protect her from them. Alice’s image of Bella’s broken form, drained of blood, vacant eyes open to the stormy sky as rain sluiced down her cold, dead skin overwhelmed me.

She was not frightened by my outburst, though shame blazed through every nerve to think that I had spoken to her so harshly. Instead, she lowered her legs to the floor and leaned forward, taking one of my hands. Her warm fingers helped me to calm down, her thumb stroking my knuckles.

“Then tell me how,” she asked calmly, eyes alight with patient curiosity. “If we know how it works we can know how to avoid it.

I hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase it without having to admit that human blood could cure me. “Well… when I become weak enough… my body will begin to release pheromones,” I explained slowly, taking my time and choosing my words carefully. “These pheromones will be carried on the air, shunted by every breeze, across miles and miles of forest and beaches until it hits the nose of some wandering vampire. He’ll catch the scent. His glands will flood his system with venom, his pupils will dilate, and his base animal instincts w-will… iihh…” the sudden burn in my nose escalated to unbearable proportions. “… take… ohhv-ehrr…”

“Bless you,” she preempted, as I dropped her hand to snatch another tissue with lighting speed to catch the vicious “heh-GXNNSHHuu!” that ripped through my sinuses. I coughed lightly into the paper, trying to rid my throat of the resulting tickle. “Or she,” she corrected lightly.

I sighed. “Or she.”

“And… feeding more regularly will…?”

“…help me keep my strength so I don’t reach that point,” I finished for her.

There was a short pause.

“Okay.”

Her tone made me look up. It was accepting, simple, the same way she had reacted when she figured out I was a vampire, said as if she had given a small shrug and tossed it into the air, careless as a sigh. She was sitting there, gazing at me, so trusting, so open.

I couldn’t help it: I kissed her.

She slipped a hand to the back of my neck, holding me there while our lips pressed passionately. I could feel her pulse quicken, her breath hot on my mouth. Lust began to burn within me, and I ached to press her into the rocker and rake my hands across her lithe body. But then she gave a small whimper, and fear flashed through every cell, freezing me in place. I broke away, pushing her back gently and dropping my gaze.

Did I hurt you?? I wanted to ask. But I knew, even if I had, she wouldn’t tell me. I had to be more careful! She was so delicate, so fragile. I could practically see through her snow-white cheek, see the veins pulsing. I could hear the breath whoosh from her lungs and knew how easily that could be stopped. Bella’s hand dropped to my knee, squeezing affectionately, and I could feel the thin press of her bones, and almost could imagine how lightly they would snap.

I took her hand ever-so-gently in my own, and brushed my lips lightly to her palm before setting it back in her lap. I didn’t look up to see the hurt I knew would shine from her eyes. I can tell she wants more, knows she dismisses my fears as irrational. But I know my own strength. I know what I am capable of, what I’ve never let her truly see. She can’t afford it.

Who am I kidding? I thought bitterly, guilt and despair warring for supremacy. I can’t afford it. I can’t bear to make any mistakes, can’t bear to think of my existence without her in it.

Another twinge hit my sinuses and I groaned, cursing the timing. I cleared my throat, hoping I could fight it off…

It is a hope I have little confidence in, no matter where I bestow it.

[starpollen]

And, here's Chapter 6. Finally, we come full circle... (I'm not bothering with all the italics 'cause I'm trying to pack to get on a plane in the morning. I'll go back later and polish it all up...)

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Chapter 6 - Bella

“Ih… IhhhkkXXXTT!!”

His ice-pale nose, fine and honed as if chiseled from arctic glaciers, wrinkles as he sniffles delicately, “Excuse me,” he mumbles, ever polite, the rims of his nostrils tinged just the slightest hue darker than the depths of their inward hollows.

“Bless you,” I whisper in response, not missing the grimace that sweeps across his features for only an instant. I am sure no one but his family would have noticed it, but after the last few months together I have striven to become exceptionally attuned to the nuances of his expression. I am fairly sure the irritation is not with the tickle working its way through his long-inert sinuses, undoubtedly aggravated by his attempt to stifle the sneeze and control the instinctive reaction.

No, he is more unnerved by the weakness he displays by being unable to control the infection raging through them.

He clears his throat softly, probably desperate to cough the offending microbes out of his body, which is unable to create mucus to effectively contain them, but acutely aware of my presence and comically protective of my presumably more-fragile immune system.

His breath hitches again, his amber eyes narrowing to mere slits as he fights the sensation. This time he is successful, barely conquering the urge to expel the microscopic sources of his discomfort, the struggle leaving him bleary-eyed and sniffling despite his best attempt to remain unaffected.

“Edward…” I begin, my voice laden with concern and reproach.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, a bit too quickly, anticipating my question. I imagine his family has been asking him that, both spoken and silently, for the last two days.

His arm is a blur as he snatches a tissue from the box on the bed just in time to smother a frantic, “hkgMPTxt!” into its folds. Three wrenching stifles follow in its wake until the tickle finally works its way out. When it does, he sighs with weary relief. “Excuse be,” he murmurs politely, congestedly, with a liquid sniffle. His head falls back to the pillow, cheeks suddenly gone paler than I would have though possible, eyes bleary and unfocused, nostrils even darker with illness,

I practically gape at him. Despite his earlier explanation, despite all I had seen today, I still had held some fraction of disbelief deep in the recesses of my mind, which is now completely dispelled.

He IS absolutely and irrefutably sick.

I draw several more tissues, pressing them into his hands with a quiet command. “Blow.”

He ducks his head, and I can see him wanting to argue with me, embarrassed that I must witness him in this condition, but his nose must be overpowering any attempt at decorum because he complies, grimacing as the heavy congestion is pushed roughly out. It takes several tries to adequately empty his nose of its contents, each forced breath seeming to take more effort.

Finally, he tosses the used ball, gleaming with silver, into the small trash can, but his darkening eyes narrow to slits, his mouth falling open with another wet “ihh-khTSCH!” aimed into his curled fist. It leaves him looking more drained, more wrung out. His upper lip, however, is still curled in a sneer of irritation, nostrils wide with impending release. His arm flashes out for another tissue.

”hUH-p’MPHkxgt!” he sneezes into it roughly, a sick resonance symptomatic of a truly miserable cold.

“Bless you,” I whisper, gently, knowing he is suffering more than just the grip of illness, but also self-deprecation. This irresistible frailty is grating on his nerves, wearing away his confidence in himself, which was never that great to begin with, despite his carefully-constructed façade. I hand him another collection of tissues so he can wipe his nose, the tip of which is looking more and more raw with each papery contact. The darkening color of his eyes makes me wonder when Alice will come with… whatever she is bringing for him…

I’m trying not to think about it. But I am worried that he might be going too long without nourishment. I find great irony now in all the times he worried and fussed over me eating. I almost toss that out as a joke, but I bite my tongue at the last second. Right now the last thing he wants to talk about is that this time he is the one requiring attention and care.

“Thangs,” he murmurs hoarsely, thickly, no longer trying to feign good health. His normally smooth, bewitching voice is changing, becoming rough and deep. It sounds more… human somehow. Even as his diamond skin glitters in a sudden shaft of late-afternoon sunlight, his hair is tousled, dusky eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Nevertheless, he’s radiant, beautiful. No one should look so attractive and be so ill.

He claps a fresh square over his mouth to stifle another wrenching, ““Uuh-NNCHISSHuu!” Immediately after which, he groans, “God… stop me already!” wiping a tired hand across his face. His expression melts my heart: miserable, pathetic, sniffling and shivery.

Before I know I’m doing it, I leave the rocker and settle next to him on the bed. My arm slides around his stony shoulders, drawing his rock-hard form towards me, and he leans into my touch until his body settles against my own with a deep, bone-weary sigh.

“You should rest,” I whisper, carding my free hand through his bronze-colored hair, the only thing about him still soft and pliant. He sighs again, as if this small gesture brings more relief than any medicine in the world. We settle back against the pillows, his head on my shoulder, body stretched along the length of mine. I pull the tissue box next to me on the bed, wondering if I’m channeling a bit of Alice when, sure enough, he’s only allowed a few peaceful moments before…

“Hhih...! NKGghxt!” he snaps forward to shield me, pinching his nostrils shut to contain it. I can see a grimace of pain flit across his features, and I scowl.

“Edward,” I murmur reproachfully, tugging at his wrist. “Don’t. I can tell it hurts you.”

He settles back down but doesn’t look at me, eyes closed, strength spent, breath deeper and lengthening. “…it’s all right…” he breathes, so soft I can barely hear it. “…I’b used to it…” He muffles a couple of short coughs behind closed lips.

Even if he does not say it consciously, I know that he’s not talking about the discomfort of his cold. He means me, us, and more than just the fire in his throat every time he breathes my scent. He means the agony in his heart that we can’t be together like normal people.

I feel it, too. Keenly.

The illness must be getting worse because he’s snuggled closer to me now than he’s ever allowed himself to get, effectively swimming in my scent, and is relaxed, nearly rag-doll-limp. The clock on the wall reads 3:07, and I settle back with him, knowing I’ve got a couple more hours before Charlie will be coming home. A couple of hours to drink in the feel of him lying beside me in my bed, to memorize every moment so I can replay it in my mind from now on every night before I fall asleep. He brings a peace to my soul, a feeling of complete safety despite his protests and misgivings.

He may not trust himself, but one day maybe, just maybe, he will trust me, will have faith in my certainty of him. The moment I decided it didn’t matter what he was, I surrendered myself to his strength, his love. Even when I wasn’t sure his feelings were as deep as mine, I couldn’t shake my rock-solid faith that he will never hurt me.

I sigh, feeling Edward's arm steal around my waist. We lie in silence, each listening to each other’s breathing, and before too long the lull of his presence coaxes me into a light doze, and from there I remember nothing but my warm, happy dreams... of him.

[Aprilcot]

Hey i'm new and i love this story!!!!

I have never seen/read twilight but i want to now!!!!

This story is absolutely amazing please please continue!!!!

[Jemmabean]

I went ahead and updated the topic title to reflect the fact that it now has 6 chapters up instead of only 2. If it's now finished, I can change that too for you if you like!

[starpollen]

I went ahead and updated the topic title to reflect the fact that it now has 6 chapters up instead of only 2. If it's now finished, I can change that too for you if you like!

No, there's more. (sigh) Thanks for updating that! Probably 10-12 chapters total, if I can keep up with it. Thanks so much!

[starpollen]

Chapter 7 - Edward

I lie there, watching her sleep, stopping my breath so as not to fly into another ridiculous fit and wake her. Her pink lips are parted, porcelain skin smoothly stretched over her glass-fine cheeks. The light fades, sun sinking down. I watch the minutes tick by on the clock, feeling the tight discomfort in my chest from lack of breath but stalwart in my defense of her peaceful slumber. It is no true hardship: I’ve gone longer without breathing.

The sun sinks below the horizon, and still Charlie does not appear. He must be dealing with a case, and my thoughts go back to those two unexplained deaths, Alice’s feelings of foreboding…

Edward?

Alice is on the back porch, the cougar cub’s heart still pounding, its neck broken but not yet dead.

My mouth is suddenly flooded, ravenous, and lightning-fast I slip away from Bella, silently. She doesn’t stir. I don’t dare draw breath until I am outside the back door, terrified that even one whiff of her scent will send the beast into uncontrollable mania.

Alice and Jasper are there, ten feet or so off the porch, standing in the dark yard. Their pale skin makes a stark contrast with the blackness of the trees behind them, their eyes reflecting the dim, yellow porch light. I snarl a quick, “Thanks,” before lunging at the cub, inwardly alarmed at my own fierce thirst.

Hungry, much? Jasper’s thoughts chuckle with irony. I see clearly what he is thinking: he still can’t understand my fascination with Bella, believing it to be some strange phase that will pass, as if I were simply enjoying a temporary pet that I will eventually use for its obviously intended purpose.

The first taste is sweet, warm, and I fairly purr with contentment. Even the next long swallows bring spreading relief to my aching joints, a quickening to my heavy limbs. I sigh, curling around it and allowing my strength to return.

Then, before I am even halfway finished, I suddenly feel a burning in my sinuses, a flooding of venom to passages that had reluctantly allowed its slow trickle over the last twelve hours. The deluge, however, is more than they will stand for.

Turning, I aim three powerful sneezes over my shoulder, not even bothering to cover or stifle them.

“Ehh-XXCHSSHH!.... ihh… Ihh-NGGSHHuu! Ahh-XTCHSSHUU!”

Bless you, Jasper smirks, finding the whole display enormously amusing.

I shake my head like a dog before tossing a glare at him, returning to the cub and bringing more of its life-giving blood into my weakening system.

I begin to feel lethargic, sated. Then…

Suddenly, terrifyingly, with overpowering speed and strength, I experience a rush of nauseating dizziness, skin unexpectedly so cold and clammy that I am actually wracked by a full body shiver.

“Edward!” Alice cries, going toward me instinctively, presumably having glimpsed something in the thin veils of her mind.

What’s wrong? I hear Jasper ask in his head a fraction of a second before he asks it out loud. Both my raised hand and Jasper’s grip on her arm the only thing stopping Alice from rushing to my side.

The feeling crashes over me in a tidal wave, and I pull my mouth away, sitting back on my heels and pressing a hand to my head, expecting it to pass as quickly as it came.

It doesn’t.

We all go still for a few moments, their sharp eyes fixed on my hunched form, my focus entirely consumed with keeping the blood down.

“I’m…” I swallow audibly, still feeling shaky and sick. “I think I’m done…” I reply softly, setting the cooling body aside with a grimace.

Alice’s voice is low, subdued, “You need to finish, Edward.” I glance up at her and see her eyes wide, lips set thin and tight.

She knows something, something she’s clamped such a tight lid on that I can’t even get a peek at it.

I groan, glancing at the tawny fur and feeling my stomach give a sickening roil. Holding back the panic that rises at her severe expression, I choke down the rest, barely keeping it together, and afterwards crawling away to the opposite side of the porch.

Jasper comes to take the cub away into the woods with gloved hands. “Carlisle sure isn’t taking any chances,” I remark as Alice and I watch him go. A tickle worms its way through my sinuses again, and I take out the handkerchief to give another burbling blow in an attempt to alleviate the itch and clear the congestion. It backs away, still present, but not immediately pressing. My head feels so full it could be floating: it doesn’t help the queasy feeling.

“No, he isn’t,” she replies, and before she can suppress it I see an image of Carlisle lying on our living room couch, eyes closed, face pale.

“No!” I cry, shooting to my feet. “He… he can’t! He…”

Alice smiles sadly. You and he have gone the longest of any of us without human blood. It stands to reason that you two would be the first to succumb.

“Is anyone with him?” I demand, anxious. “What about Esme? Is she…” I begin, then stop cold. “…The first?” I whisper hesitantly, my brain catching up to her terrible implication.

She shakes her head, eyes cloudy. “It’s still not clear. I see so many different futures…”

And I see them, too, a shimmering mosaic of images flashing through her mind:

Carlisle and Esme in the house, Emmet and Rose in the forest, each couple lying together, too weak to get up; Jasper attacking a man in the dark, forcing Alice’s feeble throat to take his blood, legions of crazed vampires descending on Forks, smashing in windows, overturning cars…

…Bella’s limp arm hanging from the open door of her truck.

“No!” I roar, staggering against the porch post as my eyes snap shut, the unconscious action unable to prevent what they see.

A second blurry vision: snow swirling around an icy canyon, my family surrounding me protectively, a shadowed body lying some distance away on the ground, my eyes crimson…

“No!” I moan, nearly begging, my face in my hands. “Those can’t be our only choices!”

The last vision, vague and dim: Esme taking Emmett, Rose, Alice, and Jasper north, Carlisle pinched and pale at the hospital, staring at a bag of blood in his hands, Bella leaning over me, lying in her bed, her tender hand stroking my hair.

My eyes fly open, finding Alice’s ancient gaze, pleading.

She shakes her head. “Carlisle’s having a hard time convincing her to leave.”

Jasper returns then, seeing both of us standing staring at each other, stiff as death, and he immediately reacts defensively, sniffing the air and placing himself near Alice.

“Don’t worry, Jazz,” she whispers quietly. “We’re safe.”

“For now,” I add, grimly.

“For now,” she agrees, compassion and hope flowing like joined rivers within.

I wish I could share her optimism. But I can’t shake that first image - the clearest, which is usually means the most likely - of a ravaged town, multitude of dead, the broken body of the one who means more to me than all the rest…

I am struck with fear, suddenly desperate to see her.

“Go,” Alice smiles, her thoughts full of love for her crazy love-struck brother, and the sister she has foreseen she will someday have. The picture of the two of them arm in arm again appears, one image of a blushing, human Bella overlaid with the glittering, vampire Bella.

I can’t help but shudder. Both are undeniably beautiful, but the second is corrupted, tainted by my knowing what it means she will have to sacrifice to attain, the pure soul she will undeniably lose.

“Thanks for coming,” I murmur, both happy and heartbroken after the visit. The last shadowed vision means there is a chance I can ride this out, a chance to avoid the most violent future.

Unfortunately, I scowl into the ground, much of the choice may not rest with me. At that, my thoughts turn, and I come to a different decision.

“He’s in his office,” Alice supplies, face calm and expectant. “Esme’s taken Rose and Emmett hunting for him.”

“Again, thanks,” I smile, including Jasper in my gratitude. His arm is around Alice’s waist and – whether he recognizes it or not – I can see the same devotion I have for Bella reflected in his face for Alice.

They melt into the forest, both sets of thoughts revealing that they are discussing where they will spend the night. Jazz’s got his eye on a small cottage that’s been abandoned up in the mountains. Alice is more concerned with staying closer to town in case futures are to shift…

My nose begins to run, and I dab at it with the handkerchief. Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to do: the soft, silvered fabric only brings the feather-light tickle that has been hovering in the back of my cold-ridden passages to the surface. I don’t even bother fighting it.

The smoothness of my features slacken into something helpless and expectant. My eyes flutter closed, chest heaving with an erratic, hitching breath that ends in one sharp gasp as I flinch into the cloth:

“MPH’kgTSCH! Uuh-EKGSSCHuu!” The explosions are wet, wrenchingly desperate. My mouth hangs open, I imagine like a fish, panting and gasping. “Hheh....! NKGGSChuh!” And damn me if the tickle isn’t actually getting worse… “Hh-NGXSCHT!” I sneeze again and again with a powerful flinching shudder of shoulders that traverses my entire body. “EXSCCh!-ESSCH!-ESSCHuu! ......hgk-SSHHuu! Ah.” I finish with a long blow, congestion thick, hot, and flooding the fabric in my hands with wetness.

I heave a deep sigh with relief and sniffle, a congested sound that is decidedly still dangerous. I glance down at the spent handkerchief in my hand with a grimace: I am going to need a new one. Maybe three.

Carlisle. I sigh. May as well give it my best shot.

I clear my throat. Holding my breath again, I slip inside to leave a note on Bella’s nightstand in case she wakes while I am gone. I stubbornly resist the urge to place a soft kiss to her brow as I gaze at her, dark hair spread on the white pillow like dark clefts in a snowbank, breath whispering soft and sweet in the velvet dark.

Instead, I make sure the doors are locked downstairs, then silently leave through her window, hoping my strength will carry me to Carlisle swifter than ever, so I can soon be by her side…

[starpollen]

Chapter 8 - Bella

‘Feeling better. Gone to see Carlisle. See you tonight.’

The folded note was on the nightstand, three brief phrases in Edward’s fine, elegant hand. I had woken with a start, surprised at having slept so long. Starlight was winking through the curtains, and my stomach was growling. The clock read 7:39; Charlie must not have come home yet.

Now, I’m downstairs munching on leftover Chinese, the creamy tofu, thick noodles, and crunchy carrots not completely destroyed by the microwave’s death rays.

Angela had left a message, wondering why I’d left school early and to let me know she’d picked up my homework. I called her back while nuking dinner to let her know she could drop it by anytime. Edward wouldn’t be coming back until after midnight: he won’t risk Charlie catching him sneaking into my room.

That would go over SO well.

Although the clock now reads 8:23, Charlie’s still out. I worry about him. Even though Forks’ crime rate has about the same number of digits as stop lights, all it takes is one bad call.

I finish dinner, wash the dishes, and do a load of laundry. As I’m putting the wet clothes in the dryer, Angela arrives with my homework.

“Thanks,” I tell her, standing in the front door. “I’d ask you to come in, but it’s late and…”

“No,” she replies with a shy smile. “I’ve got to get home. My mom expects me back right away. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, plastering a grimace on my face. “Um, Bad Chinese food. ‘Figured I’d just come home and, you know, suffer in silence.” I place my hand on my stomach.

She buys it, immediately sympathetic. “Wow, yeah. It sucks to get sick on a Friday.”

“Yeah,” I nod, feeling bad for lying to her.

“It was just strange that both you and Edward Cullen were missing in Biology,” she looks at her hands, trying for casual and failing miserably.

My stomach drops to my toes. They noticed that, huh?

“Oh, really?” I ask, matching her nonchalance. “The Cullens. Hm. They ditch all the time, though, right?”

“Yeah, but the rest of them were there after lunch. Just Edward was missing. Mike said he’d seen him in class this morning and Edward didn’t look so good. He said he looked… sick.”

“Sick?” I was trying not to give anything away, really I was. Thankfully this was Angela and not Jessica. Jessica would have been all over this like white on rice. “How, sick?”

“Um, Mike said he was sniffling a lot and sneezing,” Angela continued, not terribly interested, like she was just making conversation. Thankfully, with Angela what you see is what you get. “I don’t remember ever seeing any of the Cullens sick before…

“Well, their dad IS a doctor,” I reasoned, trying to explain it for her so she didn’t go wondering this out loud to anybody else. “He probably gives them all vitamins and stuff. And if one of them gets sick he probably keeps them all home. You know, ounce of prevention and all that…”

“Yeah,” she smiles, obviously satisfied. “I wish my mom let me stay home when I get the sniffles. She won’t let me stay home for anything with a fever below 100.”

I make a face. “That’s not smart,” I follow her topic, trying to steer her further away. “What if you’re contagious, you know? It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

She laughs. “That’s what I told her!”

Her laughter dies away and we’re left with an uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” I say. “I’ve gotta…”

“Yeah, mom’s going to wonder where I am.” She smiles that small smile again, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “See you Monday.”

“Yeah,” I smile back.

“Feel better!” she calls as she bounds down the stairs and jogs to her car.

“Thanks,” I reply, soft enough she probably can’t hear me. I go inside and sit at the kitchen table, knocking out the homework in less time than it takes for the laundry to dry. Most of this stuff I went over freshman year. Part of me is frustrated with the level of the material, and the other half is happy that I don’t have to spend a lot of time on it. At least with everything else going on in my weird life I don’t have to stress about the homework.

It gives me a small taste of what Edward must feel like.

I can’t imagine having graduated so many times. Having to do the same stupid quiz, the same inane tests, the same banal essay topics. Moving from school to school, always different and yet always the same.

For eternity.

I shove the books in my bag and go back upstairs, counting the minutes until Edward will come back. I play some music: first some soft mellow acoustic. Then, when that doesn’t work, blasting some hard rock. Both leave me frustrated.

I try to read more pages of my Jane Austen compilation… but I just can’t seem to focus. Every leaf that rustles in the evening breeze, every creak of the house, every drip of the leaky faucets jars me into glancing at the window.

Finally, just when I’d almost given up on him, he appears.

He slides the window open, and I notice that it now slides smoothly whereas a few weeks ago when I tried to open it on a nice, sunny day it stuck and creaked. I chalk it up to his supernatural strength.

He drops into the room, turning to close it behind him and shrugging out of his coat. When he turns back I see that his eyes are brighter, a brilliant golden amber, his face chalky white, hair wind-blown...

And his nose is running.

He lifts the handkerchief clutched in his hand and dabs at it, giving a liquid sniffle. I cross the room warily, wondering if he will still allow me to be close to him. It is a strange dance between us: when I am allowed near and when I’m not. Still, with his eyes this color I can deduce that he has seen Alice. He should have no reason to fear.

I put my arms hesitantly around his neck, and he slips one behind my back and squeezes gently. I breathe the unique scent of him: cold, woodsy, fragrant.

As we stand there, he draws a sharp gasp. My first instinct is to ask, “What is it?” but one glance up at his face gives me my answer.

His eyes are half-closed, his mouth open and expectant. The darkened rims of his nostrils are shivering with irritation, the handkerchief hovering a few inches away. He turns as far away from me as he can, keeping one hand around my back. I lower my arms to his waist, feeling his chest tremble and hitch as it builds.

The first one he squelches into the cloth, “hUH-p’MPHkxgt!” It’s much more powerful than he must have anticipated, ripping through him with such force that I can feel his rock-hard muscles cramp from the strain. He raises his head a fraction, and I catch a glimpse of him winding up for another, marble lips parted and trembling. His eyes look watery, his breath coming in desperate pants as a violent "Hh-NGXSCHT!” rips through his sinuses.

I am beginning to doubt the truth of his note: Feeling better…

“Edward,” I murmur softly, squeezing his arm. “It’s okay. You can let go.”

He tosses a tortured glance my way, lower lip quivering, nostrils still wide, begging for relief. He turns, shielding me from the full force of it, and releases a furious fit into the cloth. “ihh-HIIshh! Eh-IIshh! Heh-IISSCCHhh!” I keep close to him, feeling his entire body ripple with each wet, helpless release. “ehhHH??... eh-IXXSSH! IHH-SSSHH!” He stops for a moment, head thrown back, frozen in place. I wait, knowing another tickle must be working its way out, and sure enough: “eEhhh!… Uuh… huhhh… HAH!...EKGSSCHuu! Uuh-NNCHSSHuu!”

He sighs, shoulders slumping wearily. I step away while he blows, the watery gurgle indicative of thick, viscous congestion.

I place my hands on his shoulders and push him towards the bed. He lays down without protest, allowing me to tuck him in and smooth his unruly hair back from his forehead, an action that allows me to discreetly test his temperature. Maybe it’s just me, but he feels slightly warmer. Almost normal temperature, for a human.

For a vampire, he’s burning up.

As if to confirm my diagnosis, a shiver courses through him. I turn to get a washcloth from the bathroom, listening behind me as he gives another sharp gasp, “hgk-SSHHuu!” and another wet blow. He sighs raggedly afterwards, ducking his head as if wishing he could burrow under the blankets and hide until this dismal cold goes away.

I wring out a cool washcloth until it doesn’t drip, walking back to the bed and sponging his face. He sighs, and I continue down to his neck, careful to keep the sheets from getting damp.

“What did Carlisle say?” I ask softly.

His eyes are closed, mouth open as he breathes, nose too stuffed to do much but make a rough “xkkt” when he tries to sniffle back the flood.

He clears his throat, giving several light coughs into the handkerchief when that doesn’t allow him to speak clearly. “He… urm… he’s gone to the hospital. Esme’s taken the rest north for a few days.”

“Oh,” I reply, working this through my head. If Esme’s been persuaded to leave, then it must really be serious. They must believe that Edward will spread this to one or more of them. And Carlisle must have something pressing at the hospital or he would undoubtedly be going with them. Unless… my eyes take in the wan, drippy vampire huddled in my bed.

Unless he’s here for Edward.

It makes sense, I guess. If the rest have gone out of town until Edward recovers, keeping well away from his mutant germs, it would stand to reason that someone would have to stay behind to hunt for him. With his eyes closed, dark circles under them, he looks exhausted, even though I know it must be my imagination. I have no doubt Alice brought him something, and it should have given him energy, helped him keep up his strength. Unless the trip home and back tired him more than it should have…

And why would he have gone to see Carlisle if he knew he was contagious? Why would he risk…?

Unless… Oh no.

“Edward?” I ask, dropping the washcloth on the nightstand and pulling on his shoulder. He turns onto his back, wrenching his eyes open with what looks like phenomenal effort. “Is Carlisle sick?”

His grave expression speaks volumes.

“Is anyone with him? Is he all right?”

Edward’s gaze shifted away, his brows drawing ever so slightly together as if trying to puzzle something out. I know this expression: he’s trying to figure out how to avoid telling me something he doesn’t think I should hear. It’s the same expression he wore when I first began asking questions about his family, about their life. He’s trying to shield me, to protect me from some supposedly terrible truth.

“He’s… fine.” He replies at length, bringing the silver-tinged cloth back up to swipe at his nose. “He’s at work.”

“Edward…” I frown, trying to communicate my impatience with his evasive answer.

He snuffles thickly, nostrils widening in an attempt to bring in air. The sound declares without question that he is not successful. He struggles to sit up, and I stack some pillows behind him and help him settle back.

He opens his mouth to reply, “He…” then gets caught off guard with a cold-induced tickle. His nose wrinkles, granite-hard knuckles coming up to scrub furiously at it, trying to get at the burning itch within. Two short gasps escape, his shoulders bouncing with the sudden “Hah-hah!...” He gains control for a brief second, doggedly continuing, “He went to thuhh… ehh??” and loses it. He tries a different approach, bringing his handkerchief up to try and blow out the prickling sensation. “SHshshsh-huh-MPPSHHuu!” Instead, blowing himself right into a sneeze. And once the first one escapes, he can’t seem to stop.

“Ehh-KMMPHT! Ehh-KKSHOO! AHH-SHuu!....” he pulls the cloth away, moving it around looking for a drier spot, trying to hold back until he finds it. His upper lip is curled into a sneer, his eyes fluttering and nose wrinkling and shivering. He’s not going to make it. “iihh…ih-ih Eehh-TTSHOO! Ugh, God…” he aims at his shoulder, not quite getting the handkerchief up in time. He tries to blow, his eyes closed as the crawling prickle tortures him, but can only sneeze. “Shshsh…EHH-GGSHUU! kiiiSHHuu!” he pinches his nose closed, trying to stop the fit. “He-xMPTT! H’XXT! N’gsshXGGT!” his eyes are watering, a thin trickle of silver squeezing out between his closed lids.

“Ugh!!” he snaps, shaking his head and losing patience with himself. “Edough!” His speech is so thick and congested I can hardly understand him. “Carlisle wedt to the hospital for a bag of blood. Hubad blood will cure this… thig… ad Carlisle is the odly ode with edough…hahhh… codtrol to drigk… iihhh… iihhh…it… Heh’iihhKKSSHu!” This last sneeze sends him into a coughing fit, the handkerchief pressed to his lips as his chest rattles and heaves.

My heart pangs – he sounds terrible.

I wait until the spasm passes, until he leans his head back against the pillows and closes his eyes with a ragged sigh.

“Can you drink some water?” I ask, rubbing his arm.

Edward blinks at me, his face a mixture of profound longing and dubious confusion. “I… I don’t know,” he croaks.

“Do you want to try?”

He closes his eyes and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nods. I sprint down to the kitchen for a tall glass of ice, snatching a bottle of water from the fridge. I snap the cap as I head back upstairs, pouring it into the glass and handing it to him before I sit back down at his side.

He takes it from me, eyes wary. Bringing the rim to his lips, I hear a definite clink as it comes into contact with his granite mouth, and he takes a few tentative sips. I watch his amber eyes close, an expression of pure pleasure opening his face like a stargazer lily.

He begins to gulp it, the icy water cooling his heated body from the inside, extinguishing the fire in his throat. It doesn’t take even half a minute for him to drain the glass dry, a piece of ice slipping inside his pale lips, crunching in his sharp teeth, and melting in his feverish mouth.

I have to swallow, averting my eyes. His mouth bewitches me: the firm, pale lips, perfectly curved… When I find myself staring I can’t help but want…

He lowers the glass, and I reach to take it from him. Before I can get my fingers around the rim, he jerks away from me, bringing the nearly-spent cloth back up to cover his nose and mouth.

“ihh…ihhGGSSSHUuu!”

“Bless you,” I reply, pulling several tissues from the box by the bed, taking the glass and pressing them into his stiff fingers.

He nods gratefully, replacing the handkerchief and giving another wrenching double into the papery mass, “Ehh-XXCHSSHH!.... Ihh-NGGSHHuu! Uhhhggg…” he ends with a deep groan, sinking down into the bed.

“Do you feel as awful as you sound?” I ask, leaning over him as I comb his hair back from his eyes with my fingers. He seems to like it, as evidenced by the way he closes his eyes, leans into my touch. “And don’t even try to tell me you’re fine,” I threaten, one side of my mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. “Truthfully, how do you feel?”

He chuckles, the action sending him into a small coughing jag. I grimace as he blows his nose enough to speak a little clearer. “Not great,” he replies at length, voice deeper than I’ve ever heard with sickness and fatigue.

I smooth the blankets on his shoulders. “Does anything hurt?” I hope that if I know exactly what’s going on inside of him I can think of ways to help.

He is quiet for a moment, assessing. “My throat,” he whispers, “Burns. Probably the venom...” I am confused at this, wanting to know exactly what he means, but not wishing to ask him for a long explanatory monologue if it would be painful. “My head feels like a bag of wet sand. My nose buzzes, like bees are… ihh crawlig aroud, ticklig the walls wiihh… with their wigs…” As if talking about it increases the irritation, his nose twitches, and he sniffles.

“Gonna sneeze again?” I ask, leaning to pick up more tissues. He nods, not bothering to sit up.

“Hiihh… ihh-HIIshh! Eh-IIshh! … hehh… HehCCHhhh! eh-ITTSSH! … ehh… huhh... EH?...EIIHHH???” It backs away, leaving him gasping and frustrated, scouring his nose with his palm, eyes watery… truly a snuffly, whimpering mess.

I sigh.

“B-bella?...” he stutters, breath still hitching, nostrils still flaring. “Hehh?? W-whahh… what’s wrog wihh… with buhhh… be??... Ihh… it wod’t… huhh HUHH HAHHH!! Ugh!! Wod’t cub… iihh!... out!!”

“Edward,” I can’t help it, I laugh. “Your sneeze is stuck! That never happened to you when you were human?”

He shakes his head, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger and pulling up and down, trying to massage the tickle away. “I… d-dod’t rebeber… hhhh… buch of by life… eHH?? As a huhh… huu…bad…” his voice trails off, getting higher pitched as the last word comes to an end. Finally, with one gasp that seems to come up from his very toes, he pitches forward with a ferocious:

“HIIIHH-SSSHHuuuUU! Ahhh…” he falls back against the pillows, spent, the long, languid sigh at the end saturated with pure and utter relief.

I can’t help it, I’m still laughing.

He glances at me in annoyance, delicately dabbing the handkerchief to his streaming nose, pursing his lips in a little bit of embarrassment. “It’s dot fuddy.”

His skin is pallid, only his nostrils and the bags under his eyes a darker gray. His golden eyes are fever-bright, his mouth hanging open as he draws breath, sniffling softly every few seconds as his nose threatens to overflow. He is the most pathetic picture of a deadly predator I could ever imagine.

I lean down, impulsively kissing him on the cheek. “Believe me,” I snicker. “It is.”

[starpollen]

Okay. I've decided only to update this posting if someone requests it. I'm already updating on the red forum and getting some good feedback, so if no one is interested on this forum, I'll leave it be.

Got up to Chapter 10 on the red forum. Enjoy!

Edited December 29, 2008 by starpollen

[Guest Clara]

Where would this red forum be? because I DEFINITELY want to read more of this story

[Guest Pisces101]

I, too would love to read more of this story if you care to put it here. I love how you write and especially since it's Twilight... Anyway, this is a terrific story all around!

[Kiwifruit]

Awwww I love this story!! Keep up the good work!!

[starpollen]

Okay... you twist my arm. (wasn't hard to do... I'm such a pushover...)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 9 - Edward

This is indisputably the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me. Period. I may not remember much of my human life, but I can guarantee that I have never EVER made such a ridiculous spectacle of myself.

As if it weren’t enough that my throat is on fire, my limbs heavy and lethargic, my head so full of congestion that I am nearly dizzy with the weight, tortured with the most relentless tickle in my sinuses…

No.

I must subject Bella to this pathetic and repulsive display.

If my cheeks could burn, they would be charred, reduced to tiny ashes by the shame that scalds the pit of my stomach. I make one last use of my handkerchief, blowing what must be at least a gallon of fluid into the damp fabric. When I can’t seem to discharge any more, I toss the destroyed cloth into the waste basket, making a mental note to burn the contents when I feel up to it. I pull another handkerchief out of my pocket, Carlisle having given me the majority of his collection.

* * *

I had found him lying on the couch where Alice had pictured him, one arm thrown over his eyes. When I stopped in the doorway, unwilling to enter the house, he peeked at me from under it, then sat up with a poorly muffled groan.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” I had asked, panting a little from my sprint through the forest. It does not escape either of us that so short a run should not have left me… winded.

He simply crooked one side of his mouth up. “How do you feel, Edward?”

I had sighed, looking at the soft carpet. “I definitely need more handkerchiefs,” I mumbled, the need foremost in my mind as a trickle of congestion worked its way from the back of my nose to the tip.

He had chuckled good-naturedly, rising and going to a cabinet where he withdrew a tall stack. He pocketed a few and handed me the rest at arms-length. I had immediately brought one up to swipe at my nose, sniffling back some of the flow.

He had asked me about my symptoms, and I had responded, indicating the worsening congestion and lethargy, and carefully phrasing the incident with the cougar cub on the back porch. Small lines appeared at the corner of his eyes, expression tense and worried.

I had finished resolutely, “You have to send them away, Carlisle. This is not some fleeting complication that will clear itself up in a couple of days. Our strength and speed are no match for it. You need to convince Esme and the others to go away until I’m well.”

Esme had chosen that very moment to appear, looking for all the world as if she’d like to rush to my side, or to Carlisle’s, torn between her motherly and spousal instincts, but wisely kept her distance. Emmett and Rose stood a few feet behind her: Emmett’s face stony and unemotional, Rose’s looking me up and down with ill-concealed contempt.

Anything that would mar her supernatural good looks rates just below pond scum in her book. And right now, I probably rank even lower than that.

After all, I’m contagious.

As if to drive this point home, Carlisle’s eyes had slipped closed, his hand bringing a handkerchief up to his face as he released a small, “mph-choo” into it.

It’s so small, so contained, so normal it’s almost comical.

“Hey,” I had cried. “No fair! How come yours get to sound so… so…”

He had cut me off with a Cheshire-cat grin, “Practice.”

My jaw had dropped. “You… You’ve had this before?”

He’d tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket with a small shrug. “Not this particular illness, exactly, but there are a handful of viruses that can infect us. And,” he flashed an annoyed look out the window. “I’ve always been a little more… sensitive… than most of our kind to certain… scents.”

I’ve witnessed allergic humans reacting to irritants; in the last century I had never seen him react to anything in an even remotely similar fashion. However, considering the surprising and enviable control he has over himself – especially over his physical reactions – even if he had, I might not have noticed it.

I suddenly felt the characteristic burn in my sinuses, fumbling for the handkerchief as my eyes had clamped shut, my shoulders quivering. Behind me, I felt the others take a step back.

Uh oh, he’s gonna blow… Take cover! Emmett’s characteristic humor.

God, talk about pathetic. Rose's shiver of revulsion.

Poor thing... Ah yes, Esme’s overwhelming compassion.

It took longer than usual for them to come, my breath hitching and sniveling for long moments as the tickle wormed its way, building up to the final release:

“HaahESSH’uuu!.... Huhh… ht’SSCHH!....” These were lingering, more wrenchingly drawn-out than before, a sure sign of the relentless progression of this abominable cold. “HeISS’chuu… huh… EIDSCHHuuu! … hh… Hehihhh… IDSCHHH!” They scraped my raw throat, and in ridiculous numbers like these left me dizzy and out of breath. “Hh-ehh…CHISSHHaahh… ahh! huhhhh…” …no, that was it. For now. I both welcomed and despised the feeling: relief for my aching throat, torture for my still-tingling passages.

“Bless you,” Carlisle and Esme offered, nearly together. Rose had snorted, Emmett struggling to contain his laughter. All of their thoughts came crashing over me in a dizzying wave that left me woozy and lightheaded:

Carlisle: I wonder if I can get a look at this virus at the hospital lab… maybe tonight when only one or two are on shift…

Emmett: God, that was intense! No wonder he’s going to hide out at the human’s house until it passes. All I can say is: better him than me…

Rose: Ugh! Talk about gross! You’d think he’d at least try to control it or something. It’s not like we can’t simply stop breathing…

Esme: I hope she’s taking good care of him. He looks tired. I wonder if Alice was able to get the cub to him in time for it to still be warm…

“Enough!” I had barked, overwhelmed by a sudden and devastating frustration. “It’s bad enough having to listen to your mindless babbling when I’m well, let alone when I can’t shut it out!” I’d clapped my hands ineffectually to my ringing ears, closing my eyes as the room spun.

All four of them had fallen immediately silent, stunned. I’d never spoken to them like that before. Guilt instantly splintered my unwarranted rage into a thousand jagged pieces, slicing ribbons into my heart.

“I…” I swallowed, my voice cracking on the word. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s all right, Edward,” Esme’s velvet voice had interrupted my self-rebuke. “You don’t feel well. Even if we don’t remember what that’s like,” her eyes had pierced Rose and Emmett, pinning them into stillness. “We can forgive you. We love you. We’re just worried about you.”

All of their thoughts echoed this tender sentiment, even Rose’s.

After that display, it wasn’t hard to get Esme to take Emmett and Rose to meet up with Jasper and Alice. It was obvious I was not fit to be around, regardless of my mutant germs. This time, I couldn’t take off until the mood passed, couldn’t hide in the snowy wasteland away from my problems.

They were inside me, wreaking havoc on my formidable system.

Esme had agreed to leave, only under the condition that Carlisle head to the hospital to lift a bag of blood, curing himself so that he could hunt for and keep and eye on me. He was loathe to do it, but after seeing the effects of the infection on me after only a couple of days, he was reluctantly persuaded. Esme promised to bring the others back if any of them began showing the slightest signs of the disease although, based on when Carlisle began to show symptoms, the probable incubation time of the virus would have seen one of the others sick by now.

Probable being the operative word.

I had raised my hand in thanks, stepping off the porch and back into the chilly night air, the crisp breeze tickling my nose and causing it to run again.

“Heh!...” I had held the gasping breath while my hands scrambled to pull out a handkerchief and clamp it around my nose, “Heh-KNNKT!” stifling until I could adequately contain the explosions, still so close to the house.

I would feel unbelievably guilty if I passed this on to anyone else in my family. The rest of them wouldn’t have the option of going to the hospital for the cure, as Carlisle has.

Once the lower half of my face was safely enshrouded in a swath of white cloth, I had let them fly. “Hah-hah-heh-ISHH! Haah-heh-KSHH!” God, my nose was a mass of worming, burning itch! “Eh-SSHHuu! HAH-SSHUUH! Ehh… EHHHK-SHOO!” The violence of the fit increased, coming faster and faster, so that I barely had time to suck in a desperate gasp before the next one burst forth. “Hah-ISHHoo-Hah-ISHHoo-Hah-ISHOOO! Hah-hah-hah-KSHHHHHooo!!!” Finally the fit subsided, and I was left exhausted.

Sniffling, I blew my nose, trying to clear my sinuses a little. Thank god for Carlisle and his old-fashioned propriety… I couldn’t imagine what I would have had to resort to, otherwise. Fire raced down my throat, spreading a swift burn through my chest, and I suppressed a shiver. I needed to get out of the night air.

Despite the increasingly hazy feeling clogging my head, the irony of that statement was not lost on me.

By the time I got back to Bella’s, my legs were weak and my hands shaking. I barely made it into her window, noticing that Charlie was still not home. She settled me into her bed, and I can’t remember laying down ever feeling so good.

Then, that degrading display in front of her – my nose betraying me in ways my self-control never could have imagined.

* * *

After that last body-draining fit, I manage to lay quietly for a while, saving my strength. We do not speak, she lying at my side with her head on my shoulder listening to my occasional sniffles and light coughs. Once, she places her hand over my chest, her brow furrowing as she hears the strange silence.

I feel her head get heavy as she dozes off, and I struggle to control my cold, clutching that tenuous peace that allows her to rest.

She is my world. I would do anything to keep her happy and safe. Anything.

[starpollen]

Chapter 10 – Bella

The phone rings the next morning about nine, and I scramble to get it, hoping it’s Charlie.

It is. “Hey Bells,” his voice sounds tinny and far away.

“Hey, dad…” I respond, confused. “Where are you? I got worried; you didn’t come home last night.”

“In Portland,” he says, as if I should have known this. “Police Chief’s Conference, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the conference,” I sigh. I had completely forgotten. On one hand, I’d been ready to send out SWAT teams in search of his body.

On the other, it meant he wouldn’t be back until Monday night. Three whole days with Edward.

“You be a good girl now,” he tries to sound stern. “No wild parties, no boys, no booze…”

“Dad,” I mutter, embarrassed at his attempt at protective paternal grousing. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yeah, I do, Bells,” his tone goes soft. “It’s… it’s what dads do.”

We have another one of those awkward, emotion-filled silences before I mutter, “Well, I gotta…”

“Yeah,” he cuts me off, clearing his throat gruffly. “Time for my interrogation seminar.”

“Good luck with that,” I give a half-laugh and a quiet “Bye,” to which he responds:

“See you Monday.”

I hang up the phone, biting my lower lip. Three whole days… how lucky could we get? Edward had begun to get sick on Thursday night. It was now Saturday morning, and he looked to be in the worst of it, spiraling down faster than I’d ever seen with any human cold. Hopefully, that speed will carry through to his recovery, and he’d be better by Monday.

I didn’t lie to Charlie – I wouldn’t have any parties or beer…

…and Edward is far from being a boy.

The subject in question is currently curled around my pillow, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, auburn hair sticking up in ridiculous angles. When I come back into the room, he cracks his eyes open, glassy and dark with exhaustion. He hasn’t slept. I don’t even know if he can.

He needs to, desperately.

I had dozed off for a few hours. Once, I felt him get up and leave the room, presumably to tend to his rebellious nose. Another time he got up to cough, and I heard him traipse downstairs, perhaps for another bottle of water.

One mercy – we’ve discovered he can drink water. It’s one of the only things that brings him any relief.

He struggles to sit up, and I help, noticing that he wrinkles his nose and blinks. For half a second, I think he must have smelled something odd, but then realize he’s going to sneeze.

Sure enough, "Hehh-..! Hh.. Heh'ESCCCHHTT!!" He turns at the last moment to catch it under the crook of his arm. I snatch several tissues out of the box, thrusting them into his hand as another ragged “Hhn’EKTSCHU!” burst forth. Edward groans, pressing the wad of tissues to his running nose as his breath hitches. “Heh.. IHptsh!... Suhh...s-sorry...I...iishhuh! hh’IPTSCHU!” he gasps, nose still twitching, the squirming tickle rolling through his tortured sinuses, pricking and burning until the sneeze comes, a blessed relief when they finally barrel through him.

I watch as his brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time how his eyebrows draw together just as his head snaps forward with the violent “h'ESHHuh!” He always rears his head back, mouth falling open and nostrils flaring hypnotically as he drags in enough air to fuel the impending sneeze, before snapping forward with the inevitable “Hh’YISSHuu!” He gasps deeply, “Hiiih . . .!” But this one backs down, leaving him blinking dazedly and still looking incredibly sneezy.

He takes advantage of the lull to blow his nose thickly, “SXNSHGSXNSG-iih’SHHuu!!” blowing himself into another sneeze.

I grab another handful of white squares, taking his wrist gently and pressing them into his free hand as he gears up for another round. “Hh’ettchst!... ihh… ihhHHH… hhp’IPTSCHuu! Uuuuuggghhh….” he groans, looking more exhausted and pitiful than I ever could have imagined a fearsome, lethal vampire could look. His nose is chapped, cheeks pale with the effort, and his eyes are watery. His upper lip curls back, and the tip of his tongue hangs suspended between his sharp, glittering teeth.

“You okay?” I ask, my own brow furrowed with concern.

He nods wearily. “Ode… ode bore…” he pants, bringing one long finger up to rub around the rim of his left nostril, which pulsates in a spellbinding rhythm.

“Huh’hUTSHuu!” he barely catches it in the paper, shredding it with the force.

“Bless you,” I murmur, noticing how his sneezes have more time between them, each shuddering through him with ferocious intensity. He is gearing up for another, but seems so drained, so exhausted that he can’t even keep his eyes open, let alone bring his hand up to contain the explosion.

Without even realizing it, I find one of his clean handkerchiefs folded across my palm, my hand placed strategically cupping his mouth to catch another weak “Haah-TCHSHuu!” that seems to come up from his toes.

“Blow,” I instruct, holding the cloth there while he takes a deep, wheezing breath, pushing it out through his stuffed-up nose: “SSNGHSNGGHSHH.”

The fluid tumbles over itself on its way out of his swollen and irritated sinuses, warm, wet.

“Better?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He suddenly gets a faraway look of intense concentration, which I immediately recognize as another fast-approaching sneeze. I witness his brows meet and his nostrils begin flaring. His upper lip curls oh-so-slowly as the tickle tortures him, seeming to wind its way from one nostril to the other, leaving him sitting there helpless as he waits for it to force its way out.

It doesn’t take long.

He snaps up another wad of tissues, rocking forward with a vicious “Hah-chISSSHh! Oh... Huh... Sorry, I... huh... Huh-uh...Huh-CHIshuu!!” he blows his nose again, chucking the tissues in the wastebasket with a grunt of frustration.

“When will this stop??” he rubs tired hands over his face as he mutters hoarsely, voice nearly gone in the grip of his cold.

And I have to admit, this is the sneeziest cold I’ve ever seen – human or otherwise.

The major benefit of this, I realize, as he snuggles closer to me with a deep sigh, is that he can’t smell me. Doesn’t have to struggle against his natural predatory nature in order to be with me.

We can simply be together. Happy. Content.

Well, as happy as he can be, considering the circumstances.

He coughs again, turning away from me even though he is exhausted, determined to shield me as much as he is able. I rub his back, feeling his rock-hard muscles relax just the slightest bit under my hand.

Things continue in a similar vein for the next several hours, me bringing him water, tissues, and sponging him down when his skin begins to feel close to mine in temperature. It’s a strange feeling: learning to diagnose how sick a vampire is when he really doesn’t know himself.

Sometime just after noon, his eyes sink closed, his breath becoming even and deep.

I hold my breath, barely daring to blink as I gaze up at his slack, pale features. I can hardly believe it:

He’s asleep…

[ooo]

Gaaaaahhhhh.

Your writing is absolutely, amazingly incredible. You've done their characters brilliantly, I love love love the way you've laid out the plot with such detail and made it all seem so plausible, I adore your writing style to pieces...and, of course, the sneezing, sickness and caretaking is absolutely melt-worthy.

Loving it...obviously!

Please update soon!

[Aprilcot]

OH MY GOSH!!!

YOu are so good at this!!!

Your style, your words the characters!!!!

aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Um sorry... got alittle carried away haha

Keep Writing!!! Please!!!

whoops... and again

[starpollen]

Okay, so I have received and finished reading "Twilight" and "New Moon." (I've ordered "Eclipse" and "Breaking Dawn" but they're not here yet. Grr.)

I could go into a long and complicated analysis of both books, but will spare you the annoyance of my ridiculous intellectual scrutiny and give you what you came for: the next chapter.

Shorter than some, but bringing the relationship back to the core. After all that is, of course, the main appeal...

================================================

Chapter 11 – Edward

It's been so long, I barely remember the feeling. The sensation of utter nothingness, the peace, the easy release. God, how I’d missed it.

The last time I slept, I was dying.

I drift into the gray haze, allowing myself to float as if rocked on a gentle ocean swell. I can feel Bella, soft and warm, curled next to me and draw profound comfort from that. I relax into the softness of her bed, and then… there is nothing.

I sleep.

No dreams, at least none that I remember. Just restful, calm sleep. When next I open my eyes, night has once again fallen, and my head is - mercifully - clearer. Bella is no longer beside me, but before I can grow anxious my sensitive ears pick up the quiet sounds of her downstairs, flatware clanking on china. She must be eating dinner, and I am glad that she hasn’t completely neglected her own needs to tend to mine. I stretch, feeling the satisfying extension of my muscles, shuddering a little with pleasure. I don’t want to get up. I want to linger and revel in this feeling.

Unfortunately, a light tickle is slowly worming its way through my aching sinuses. I sigh, daring to sniffle lightly. It’s only a matter of time before it works its way out.

I may as well enjoy the tenuous peace while it lasts.

A glance at the clock shows that it is almost 7 p.m. My mouth drops unconsciously in surprise. Not only did I manage to fall asleep, but I’ve been asleep over six hours.

No wonder I feel so damned good.

I swing my legs off the side of the bed and gingerly sit up. Much of the thick congestion in my head has cleared, and I no longer feel the aching weakness in my limbs. I’m still sick, as evidenced by a thin trickle down my throat that causes me to cough, but much better than I was this morning. The surprising effect that genuine rest has had on my health convinces me that the reason it got so bad was that I fought it so hard in the beginning, not allowing myself to simply be sick.

I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t plan to stir from this house for the next two days. Hopefully by the time Charlie comes home I will have recovered enough to make it back to Carlisle’s house without making myself worse.

I don’t call it ‘home’ anymore – my home is with Bella, wherever she is.

Her room still holds a fascination for me and, now that I am able to do so without the tormenting lure of her scent raking fiery claws through me, I stand and begin walking around, taking in every little detail. I am so engrossed that I don’t even notice when she comes back upstairs. It’s only her soft chuckle that makes me turn to find her leaning in the doorway, the lamplight highlighting the glints of red in her hair, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re slipping, I almost snuck up on you,” she comments, her face immeasurably relieved. “You look better.”

“I am,” I reply, one side of my mouth going up in a crooked grin. My voice is still a little hoarse, but stronger than it had been.

“And you’re snooping,” she accuses, her eyes glinting with humor.

“I am,” I admit, crossing the distance to her slowly. Well, slowly for me. I don’t dare tax my recovered strength for so small a purpose. The light tickle is still winking through my nose, and I sniffle, trying to keep it quiet and not ruin this perfect moment.

I stand in front of her, eyes tracing her porcelain features, reaching up to lay the tips of my fingers under her delicate chin, raising her warm, soft lips to my cold, lifeless ones.

I can’t imagine the appeal for her, personally. All I can say with absolute truth is that hers are electric, her heart beginning to hammer as I steal the warmth of her breath. I burn with longing, the fierce current shocking through my stone body as she leans into me, pressing against me. My hand steals around to cup the nape of her neck, feeling the warmth of her body trapped by her long, thick hair wrap around my hand like a glove. I feel tremors begin in my chest, a subtle warning that I am about to lose control and go too far with my desire. Not for her blood, though that is still a sweet and difficult temptation.

For her.

It is her breath faltering dangerously, however, that finally causes me to break away, pushing her firmly and gently back to a safe distance. Her pupils are dilated, eyes half-lidded and drowsy looking, her mouth still hanging slightly open as she tries to catch her breath.

Dazzled indeed.

It sends a pang through my chest. What if her feelings for me are no more than this – the overpowering physical appeal of a vampire, the bait nature has given us to lure our prey? Part of me wishes desperately that she could to love me as deeply, truly, and utterly as I love her. Another part of me revolts, vehemently protesting the idea that I could have any appeal for someone so soft, so warm, so pure. It is merely, as I had explained to her, my face, my voice, my smell that bewitches her senses and pushes all rational thought from her mind.

It must be. Nothing else makes sense.

And yet, I cannot stay away. Too much of me is selfish, wanting to be with her even if it is all…

…a lie.

She has recovered, smiling at me with complete adoration. As long as she’ll smile at me like that, I’m willing to live with the deception.

Pressure is developing behind my eyes, and I sigh, bringing my fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew the peace was too good to last.

“Are you all right?” she asks me, that small, endearing little V shape appearing between her brows as she grows worried.

“Yes,” I reply, reaching up with my thumb to smooth the V away, finally succumbing to the need. I had wanted to do that so many other times, and now that I could I wasn’t about to waste the chance.

Her lower lip juts out in an adorable pout, and she turns me around and marches me back towards the bed. “You must still be sick. You’re in too good of a mood: it must be the fever.”

I sit on the bed, pulling her suddenly into my lap, smiling at her shocked expression. “I feel fine,” I purr, resting my cheek against the top of her head. She feels slight in my arms, like a baby bird, and glowing with warmth. Her warmth fascinates me: I can’t get enough of it. I revel in the feeling of her in my arms, closing my eyes and eliciting a deep, unreserved sigh of contentment.

My nose chooses that precise moment to betray me.

The sensitive membranes vibrate briskly with the desire to expel the germs that tickle them, involuntarily causing me to gasp as the urge gathers strength. I pull away from her and fumble in my pocket for a handkerchief, glimpsing her worried expression through my squinting eyes. I try to reassure her:

"Hang on... gotta... iih… sneeze... ,” I sniffle thickly, dense congestion suddenly flooding my sinuses with surprising speed. "Godda be ha... HAhh... big wod..." My eyes squelched shut as I am catapulted forward with a throaty, "huh’HKSCHHuu!!" a light spray shooting out from my lips like a geyser.

Thankfully, I have snapped the handkerchief up from my pocket just in time, preventing any embarrassing mess. I blow my nose, thankful when that single sneeze – violent and wrenching as it had been – satisfies the tickle for the moment. It is still there, light and teasing as it has been every moment of the past day, but not intensifying into another ridiculous fit.

Maybe the worst is behind me.

Bella’s hand comes up to my cheek, the backs of her warm fingers resting against my skin for a few moments. “You feel cooler,” she murmurs. “Almost normal, I think.”

I chuckle.

“Well, normal for you, anyway,” she amends.

Edited December 30, 2008 by starpollen