Err. Yo. I return from my Italian sojourn. :D It's an EdBel fic that pissed me off quite a bit when I was there. So here goes. It's a one shot, I own nothing but the idea, and it takes place at some point during the second book.

Bella leaned back on her bed and winced. Her back hurt. Her mind was numb. She felt an ache in her chest, more sharply than she had been feeling it for a while now. Jessica had made a comment about the one thing she was trying to forget; Edward.

She closed her eyes and for a brief moment hated Forks, hated having come here, hated the cold, hated the rain and hated Edward. But it didn't last long, that momentary fire of anger.

All she felt was the yet cold touch of her bedspread. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the pillows, ignoring the fact that it was three thirty in the afternoon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt cold and sad. She frowned. The bed reminded her of something. Something that envelops her. She pulled her blankets over her, and sank deeper into her pillow.

Oh. Now she knew why. It was like being in Edwards' arms. She sighed, closed her eyes and turned sideways, pretending for a moment that it was Edwards' chest her head lay upon, and lap she sat on. Pretending for a moment that Edward was truly and really behind her, his arms resting gently around her hips and his lips whispering sweet nothings in her hair. She doesn't imagine hot breath on her neck, for Edward had neither heat, nor breath. She closes her eyes and peace resounds. Peace for the first time is weeks, peace in her erratic heart-beat and throbbing head-aches. Peace in the deep hollows of her soul. And she is happy...

Until a bird twitters outside, telling her that the sun is on its way out. She could never have hated that bird, or the sun more than she hates them now. And she looks around and knows she was dreaming; Edward is not there, she is not happy. And in a moment of loss and emptiness, tears leak from her eyes as she pulls her knees to her chest. She cries.

And outside the window, a hundred year old seventeen sighs, and wishes he could comfort her, and wishes she would move on and make it easier for both of them.

Well? a bit off, and a weirder style of writing but I'm happy. Review!!

Love,

Lady Merlin