It's always amazing to realize just how much time passes when you are too busy to pay attention to its passing. Years, he realizes now, have melded into each other so he can no longer pick out a specific date, or month. Moments, snippets of time and conversations, remembrances of touches, laughs, love making - those are what make up the years until slowly, almost too slowly to notice, she started drifting away.
At first, he thought he had monopolized her time, taken up too much of it, smothered her. So, he had stepped back, watched from a distance and noted how her hair still blew and twisted in the wind. He noted the lack of blush to her cheeks in the cool air. Her eyes no longer glinted with suppressed knowledge, but became hard and unyielding when they looked out unto the world. No more did she open her mind to him, sharing those deep seated thoughts that rarely see the light of day or have the pleasure of passing through her lips. Instead, she is a stone tower once again, impenetrable, immovable.
Bella stands now at the window, watching - always watching - for Renesmee's return. Their errant child. Their brilliant child. He knows she will return eventually. She keeps her promises to her odd parents, if for no other reason than it hurts her to hurt Bella by staying away. Don't misunderstand, he aches and feels the pain of her absence keenly. It leaves him a little hollower inside. Makes the days and nights just a little longer. Makes the time pass slowly. The world dims when she is not around, and not just for him. He sees it in everyone whose life she has touched. He sees the torture Jacob goes through the times his girl chooses to go off alone. The creases in Jacob's forehead and around his eyes become more defined, the worry eating at him, gnawing like a dog would at a bone. Inside, he can't help but feel a crow of delight form when Jacob feels especially alone. The despair comes off in waves thick enough to choke, and he breathes it in, filling himself up with it. It is sick, twisted, and wrong, but he does not care. Not when he himself is empty with the sorrow of it all.
Never will he say how it pains him when Bella turns to Jacob to comfort him when he is alone and hurting, probably getting a bit of reprieve from her own feelings of helplessness concerning their shared love of Renesmee. No, he will never speak of it again. Once had been enough - more than enough - to show him her stance on that issue. The scars, long since healed, still burn his marble-hard skin when he witnesses their coming together. Those are the times when he curses his gift, more so than any other, for Bella is a wall, ever blank and unyielding and Jacob is a fount of information, spewing over so that it splashes him until he has to get far, far away before he does something irrational.
Sighing, he flips another page in the book. He has not read a single word in days, but he keeps up the façade, knowing that if Bella thinks he is keeping his distance, she will let down her guard just a tiny bit and show him, unknowingly, a piece of her thoughts through action.
The rest of the Cullen's had continued on, moving to new places, living new lives - existing - while he and Bella stand on a precipice looking out onto nothingness. Their lives are stagnant, punctuated only by their little girl's infrequent visits, or when the others stop by on their way to another place. He watches as Bella speaks to Alice as to Renesmee's future, her whereabouts, her health, her well being. Always it is the same, Alice can see nothing due to the child's nature, and always it is the same stoic, silent, stony glare and subsequent run through the woods from Bella.
Alice tries, though he can see it is wearing on her, to be comforting to her sister-in-death. Jasper can no longer soothe Bella. Carlisle has given up on trying to reason with her. Only Esme, a mother in her own right, stands silently with Bella when she returns to Forks. He wonders what they are doing, standing there looking into the darkness or the light, searching with eyes too far seeing, yet not seeing far enough. Esme's thoughts are fairly linear. She thinks of each of her children in turn. Him first, always him first. Her thoughts of love, caring and concern overwhelm him until he thinks he might cry from the pain in her thoughts when she turns to him. A wraith of himself, barely a shadow and even less of a vampire than he has ever been. She worries without needing to, in his opinion. It is Bella who needs to be looked after. Bella whose history of smart choices is extremely limited and can be surmised in a paragraph ... or less. Bella who stands like a statue, eyes wide, mouth slack, thoughts gone while waiting for a child who has no need of her any longer.
That was the crux though, he thinks. Renesmee has no need of her parents. In just six years time she has grown into that of a beautiful young woman, old enough and far wise enough to know more about the world than any of her caretakers had thought possible. He can still remember the day she announced her departure, unable to say it with words, having resorted to her soft, knowledgeable touch to say her goodbyes.
Looking back, he realizes that six years was too short, for human or vampire. Six years is nothing in the cosmic whole of their lives. Human children stay for longer, much longer than that - which gives the parents time to accept, to expect the unexpected, to come to terms with the idea of being separated from that which they hold most dear to them. Six years hadn't been but a blip on the radar. Even with their advanced thinking, movement, understanding, and knowledge, vampires are likely to spread that time over a longer period. Eighteen years didn't sound long enough to him now. A century, perhaps, two if he could manage, might have been enough.
Without forethought as to his actions, he comes to stand next to Bella, his eyes searching the darkness before him.
He understands now. A light, brighter than the sun illuminates his darkest thoughts about those he loves and those he's come to care for. Their daughter, their love and life and reason to be, has left them too soon. Too much danger awaits the world outside. He has not had time enough to show her all the things to be wary of, all the things that, while seemingly harmless at first, are anything but.
Without turning to look at him, Bella speaks for the first time. Her voice is soft, softer than he remembers, and a sharp pain hits his chest as he realizes just how much time has been wasted in petty thoughts and inaction. "It hurts to find out that what you wanted doesn’t match what you dreamed it to be."
~END~