A/N: Another fic on the chopping block. This one came to me almost immediately after I finished writing "The Insatiable Greed." Inspiration for this one? Coldplay, sleep deprivation, IB stress, and need for another Free Writing. Please review, I'm always up for compliments/criticism. I appreciate it a lot when people take the time to tell me what they think.

This fanfic can also be found on my Twilight website, With You, which can be accessed from my profile.

Enjoy!

/Edit: (02 June 2008) – Yes,I have just written a sequel to this. It still doesn't have a really definitive ending, but it is a bit more hopeful than the end of this piece is. So for those who have bawled their eyes out over this, you might like "Conservation of Mass." Just find it under my stories at my profile.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not I.

Album Leaf

We used to sit out on her front porch, just swinging back-and-forth on a bench on the summer nights. We would look up to the stars, as if they held the keys to understanding. We used to be together. We would sometimes forget, for just one moment of a second that we could never truly be together. We could fight back the pain for that one instance and instead enjoy what we had. What we were about. How lucky we were to have found each other, even if it would only last a few years of eternity.

She and I had wonderful times together. She never married. No matter how many times I would tell her that she should forget me and never think of me again, she never considered it. She never turned her back on me. She never went away. She was always there with arms opened wide to accept who I was for it "didn't matter."

It did not matter to her that I was a monster from the depths of hell. It did not matter that it was both herself and her blood that I was after.

She was so beautiful, could I ever have really stayed away from her? Could I have ever really let her go, knowing that she was alive and out in the world?

No. I never could have truly let her go. I know myself too well. I know I would have found myself peeking in her window to her life ever now and then. I know I would have read the thoughts of those around her and sighed with content hearing her laugh and enjoy her human life.

"Who remembers you when you are gone?"

I remember sitting down, playing the piano for her. I gave her a few lessons, but she never really made it past the beginner stage. She was too content with hearing me play to ever desire to play for herself. I never minded. I would play for her all day if she wanted. As she got older, I played more and more for her. In her last months, she was not as mobile as she used to be and would sit in the bed, listening to me play.

I can honestly say that I remember her entirely. My memories do not fade and tint with gray as human memories do. My memories are as fresh and clean as the day they were born. I can remember what she said, her voice, her hair, her arm movements, and all the cute blushes that had the pleasure of warming her face. That warmth that drew me to her and kept me in. It was like a dream. She would tell me it never seemed real. I reflect now on those times and I concur. It was so surreal because of how beautiful things were when it was the two of us. Nothing else mattered. We could "die" together and never feel remorse.

She made up this album leaf. This album leaf of memories too precious to ever forget and too personal for others to possibly comprehend at the deepest level what we went through. So beautiful and muted for others with a splash of might-have-been's and could-be's. What happened is reflected on the pages in tones of sharp contrast between love, devotion, and selfishness.

However, when it was just the two of us, the hues were overlaid until the brilliant shine of morning could nowhere near out outshine the memories. The memories that will forever be inside me until the day of reckoning. Until then, I will forever carry this album leaf inside me. I will immortalize my Isabella in death, as I could not do in her life. Immortal in my mind, immortal in my heart, she will live on in this album leaf. These memories—too precious to ever let go.

"Who remembers you when you are gone?"

I remember sitting on the edge of her bed as she lay dying. I remember her voice, cracking and no louder than a whisper, breaking through the deafening silence of the white room. Her voice was calling out to me to remember—to never forget my beloved who was leaving me. She gave me one last request for me to play on the piano. I played her the song I had composed years ago for her. She was so peaceful in the end, but I could not finish it. I…was close to that final melancholic chord and she took a last deep breath, waiting for the end to come.

I could not give her a proper ending. I could not bear to sit and play while she died. I did not play that chord. Instead, she died in my arms. I wish I could have wept, to visibly show my grief, but this race of mine does not allow me to express my emotions on my sleeve. If there were ever an instance where I wished it were not so, it would have been then.

If there were ever an instance where I wished I were not myself, it would have been then.

Her funeral…was as beautiful as a death could be. She—dead in the ground. I—dead and walking the Earth.

Now she rots away in the soil and I rot away in the air. I try to pick myself up and walk back into the world of the living, but I am afraid I will forever be in love with the world of the dead. I try to put on a mask and hide my distress, but for all the dazzling smiles I produce, none compare to the ones I smiled for her. Nothing compares to what I did for her. No one compares to her. No one compares…

Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing will ever be…

"Who remembers you when you are gone?"

This album leaf of her will always bear my memories of her.

I will always remember her, my Isabella.