Welcome to my newest WIP. It's taken much longer than I wanted to get it going, but here we go. This is an EPOV fic. Only EPOV. And as usual - human, and out of character. It spans over a decade, as true love never fades. Thank you for joining me. I hope you stick around and enjoy the ride.

*Disclaimer* All things Twilight, of course, are property of Stephenie Meyer. The versions of her characters that I play with are not them, but wacky versions of the characters we love, and love to hate. I hope they move you in some way as well.

True Love Way

Prologue

Love comes in many forms. The love one feels for family – the close bond of siblings, and the love given to and taken from parents is one I'm familiar with. The love parents have for a child, whether from their own flesh or not, is something I've witnessed and can vouch for. There's platonic love, on occasion. A true friend who just appreciates you for who you are is rare and so worthy of love. There is first love, and lust mistaken for love. Forbidden love, and regrettable love. There's even a love that one can talk themselves into feeling – it's settling for something less than ideal, but it serves its purpose.

In my experience, love is what makes life worth living, but it can also wound you so deeply that the scar never fades. I believe in true love; a love that is pure and is completely out of your hands. You know it when happens, and it can save you, or destroy you. At the end of it all, true love is the only way.

~ 0 ~

"Rose wants you to come over next weekend. No excuses." Emmett recited my sister's request to me as we headed home to Port Angeles. He was picking up some boxes my parents had in storage for them and I'd gone along for the ride. "She's actually got three days off, and she wants to see your ugly face."

"Well if that's all she's looking for…" I grabbed his phone from the console and snapped a picture making my goofiest face. "There. Done. And she doesn't even have to wait for the weekend."

He glanced down at it and cracked up. "That's classic, but I think she had something in mind that included more personal involvement. What's your schedule like?"

"I finish Saturday morning, switch to second shift on Monday. I'm off in between." I worked as a dispatcher for Port Angeles Emergency Response. "I'll come over after my shift?"

"Perfect. That'll make her happy. I don't go back until Sunday night myself… Uh-oh. Looks like there's an accident ahead."

I perked up along with him. It was more than concern for traffic delays – with both of us in the field of emergency response we mutually felt a need to help out in some way. "Fire trucks already – I guess I don't have to call it in. Looks like a bad one."

"Shit, dude! Is that a plane?"

I craned my neck to scan the scene as Emmett slowed down. I saw an overturned semi amongst the flashing lights, a pickup truck and… "Shit! Yeah, that's definitely a wing! Looks like a small plane. Private? Or pleasure craft. Either way, I can't see how anyone survived that. Damn."

"Should we see if they need extra hands?"

I wiggled my fingers. "That's what we're here for. I'm just gonna give Lauren a quick call and let her know I'll be late."

Emmett parked along the side of the highway, grabbed his ID, and ran over to the scene. I joined him after my call.

"We're short on paramedics until backup arrives," the crew chief informed us. "There are six survivors needing medical attention – two can't be transported until they're stabilized. Can you lend a hand?"

Of course we would. Although I wasn't healthy enough to work on a squad, I was a fully trained paramedic. We rushed through with the bag Emmett kept in his truck and put our gloves on to get to work.

I splinted a compound fracture, and cleaned and bandaged wounds on the truck driver. He fared the best out of the survivors. Aside from the pickup, another vehicle was involved and completely trashed. It was doubtful if the one survivor from that car would make it to the hospital. All in all, I was amazed that the outcome wasn't worse. The private plane had crashed in the trees, but the body of the plane, minus one wing, had made its way onto the highway in front of the semi. More amazing yet was that one of its three passengers had survived the wreckage. The other two and the pilot had been killed instantly.

I made my way over to the plane victim to see if they needed help. She looked in rough shape as two paramedics worked on her. They didn't even have a name until Aviation provided the passenger list from the plane. The ambulance arrived to transport her to Olympic Medical Center in Port Angeles and something propelled me to take a closer peek at her before they moved her. I knew I'd have nightmares about it, but I never imagined my curiosity would change my life.

I was transfixed as I stared at her. It couldn't be her. No, please God, don't let it be her. Shakily, I moved closer to prove to myself that my mind was playing tricks on me. Even though I often thought of her, I hadn't seen her in years. I had to be wrong. Her face was swollen almost beyond recognition... almost. I had spent so much time staring at that face, I would know it no matter how badly mutilated it was. Carefully, I picked up the arm the IV was hooked up to. There was my proof - a tiny mole on her right wrist was all I needed.

"You see something?" The paramedics eyed me as I set her hand down with the utmost care.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Nodding, I stared blankly at the woman on the stretcher. "Someone should contact Police Chief Swan in Forks."

"Charlie? Why? What's he got to do with this?"

"This is his daughter."

~ 0 ~

I was once asked to write an essay – a mini auto-biography. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It seemed like another life altogether. I had worked so hard over the past ten years to give myself a new life, but in one quick flash, I was drawn back in. I relived my previous life on my overnight dispatch shift. My copy of the essay had been folded and unfolded many times, but it hadn't been out for years. In my hands, it was a lonely old friend.

I was born with a flash of lightning on the side of a darkened road. My parents watched on anxiously as two paramedics worked as calmly as possible on my birth mother. Elizabeth was just sixteen when she met my parents. Esme was on duty at a clinic when she first came in for prenatal care. The two formed a sort of mother/daughter bond. My parents had been unsuccessful in conceiving a child, and they desperately wanted a family. They were meant to be parents, and young Elizabeth was without parents of her own. Destiny seemed to be playing well for both parties.

Esme and Carlisle became surrogate parents to Elizabeth, caring for her and providing for her during her pregnancy. An agreement was made at some point, and my father, being a lawyer, had all the necessary papers drawn up to legalize my adoption. It wasn't necessary to legalize the rest of the agreement – my parents were happy to provide a home and an education for Elizabeth, and she had the utmost faith in their intentions. After all, she was giving them her child.

The night she went into labour, there was a terrible storm. Carlisle didn't hesitate in calling an ambulance, wanting to get Elizabeth to the hospital as quickly as possible. She was so young – there was no telling what her labour would be like. For all of the planning they had done, no one could have anticipated the outcome. No one dreamed up a lightning bolt striking down a tree in front of the ambulance, or the amount of slick mud on the hill, hindering the vehicle's ability to stop. It crashed as my birth mother screamed in terror and pain, bearing down in an attempt to put an end to her agony.

Ambulance tangled in the fallen tree, the paramedics delivered me as another bolt of lightning lit up the sky around us. But something went wrong. Something went very wrong. Young Elizabeth died before she made it to the hospital. In giving me life, I took hers.

My parents claim I was meant to be theirs and that Elizabeth was a gift to them in so many ways. As fate would have it, soon after the adoption agreement was made, Esme discovered that she was pregnant herself. She claims we brought her and Carlisle fertility and good fortune. Alas, they were so fortunate, Esme was actually carrying twins.

The night I took my mother's life, I very nearly took my siblings' as well. Esme went into premature labour from the trauma of the accident and losing Elizabeth. She was hospitalized for the remainder of her pregnancy, in hopes of keeping the babies alive inside of her long enough to give them a good chance at life.

At home, I was tended to by a hired nanny. My father exhausted himself between working and looking out for me, as well as spending time at the hospital each and every day. I was a fussy baby. I didn't sleep well, and the only time I wasn't crying was when Dad took me to visit Mom. For that hour or so in her arms, I was peaceful. That's what they tell me.

My brother and sister were born miraculously healthy, just two months after me. They were perfect and beautiful. Look at any picture of the three of us as babies, and I was the one scowling and red while my golden-haired siblings smiled angelically. Of course, I don't remember those very early days. What I do remember is the three of us always being together. We were more like triplets, everyone said. Despite being the oldest, however, I was definitely the runt of the litter.

As we grew, my siblings maintained their sweet dispositions and stunning looks. Jasper and Rosalie were model children, never causing aggravation and always in perfect health. While they grew taller and gained weight, I fell behind. They were bigger, stronger, smarter than me – generally better all around. It may be part of their generous personalities, but they never seemed to see the difference in me. They hovered over me, as my parents did, each time I came down with bronchitis or pneumonia. They drew pictures daily on whatever cast I had for my many breaks – fragile bones do not go well with being uncoordinated. I was simply their klutzy brother, Edward.

It was when we started school that I really noticed the difference between us. I was beyond shy around other kids – my siblings were my only friends. I was fine with that; I didn't need anyone besides them, and they always included me in their play. At school, however, I began to notice that other kids were as drawn to them as I was. Everyone wanted to be their friend. Crowds gathered wherever they were, and I became increasingly nervous in such crowds.

As I became more withdrawn and prone to illness, my parents decided it was time to take action. I had my first experience with psychotherapy, medication, and a healthy dose of reality. The truth behind my different birthday came out. Finally, I had a valid reason for being different.

Rosalie and Jasper took it much better than I did. Nothing changed for them, but for me, everything had changed. I wasn't merely a menace to myself – I had taken my mother's life. I was more than different. I truly was the outsider – the freak on drugs that I didn't need. Drugs that only made things worse for me. I became scrawnier and even less able to adapt to my surroundings. I acted out, drawing attention everywhere we went, until Mom finally insisted that my diagnosis had to be wrong and I was taken off the pills. As my mood spiralled downward, Mom took me under her wing even more. When the twins had friends over, I would spend one-on-one time with her in the kitchen. She was trying out protein-rich foods to bulk me up – the beginning of my fat years.

The fat years were not kind to me. If I was shy and self-conscious before that, it was tenfold after the failed medication trial and weight gain. I also wore glasses that were constantly taped in various locations to hold together until they could be replaced. I was as hard on my glasses as I was my bones.

I would do anything to avoid attention of any sort. Kids were cruel, and my siblings became my defenders and sole playmates. My siblings are everything to me. In a life filled with accidents and mishaps, they are the best thing that ever happened for me. I would be lost without them.

They constantly amaze me with their acceptance. We share no common blood, no similar genes, yet I'm simply their brother. They don't see the fat or the awkwardness. They draw out a person I can only be with them – and they love me. Even their love is different from mine. I love them for who they are to me; they love me unconditionally.

Of course, they have no reason to be jealous of me or need me the way I need them – they have everything, including knowledge of a different love. I will lose my constant companions, my saviours – my heroes. They've each found a new love. While they still involve me in their lives, I know it is fleeting. Eventually, they will move on and start lives of their own. Each of us separate. Perhaps when forced to live apart from them I will understand unconditional love. Right now, I feel I have to earn their love. I have to prove to them that they are the most important people in my life. I have to prove that I can be equal and not dependant on them for life. I can be the brother they deserve rather than the one they were stuck with after killing my own mother. I have to show them I'm worthy of their love.

Right now, I am anything but worthy. I've fallen into something so wrong but am helpless to change. I am desperately in love with my brother's girlfriend.

The last paragraph still made me cringe. I had excluded that from the copy I'd given to my therapist. No one needed to know my dirty little secret. It wasn't like my therapist was a priest – it's not a sin to lie to your therapist. It is a shame to lie to oneself, however. Jasper may have moved on, but I had never gotten over Bella.

A/N ~ Okay, before you get all up in my face - this IS an E/B story. Trust me. You trust me, right?

I trust some very important people who've helped me get on this over the past several months. If you get the chance, check out their fics. Very talented ladies, my friends are:

sshg316, who once more speed read and beta'd in batches. You rock, hon! I should be getting another batch to you soon!

msj2779, avid pre-reader and advisor. I'd be totally lost without you. Your never-ending support, bubbles, picporn and advice get me through the worst and the best of times. I heart you like a MC. ;-)

These are my fixers - any errors you spot in the chapters above, and to come, are mine. Like this E & B, I'm only human. If you've followed me before, hi-ya! Welcome back! And if you're new to my fics, howdy to you as well. I write a slow burn. I mean, sloooooow. If it's not your thing, you probably won't want to wait. But I hope you do. Looking forward to seeing what you all think! As usual, I'll be updating Monday mornings. See you then! XX ~ SR