"What's the story?" I asked, genuinely curious, but also trying desperately to keep the conversation casual, to keep a firm grip on myself, so I wouldn't scare him away with the frantic, gnawing craving that was raging inside me.
"What do you mean?"
"What am I telling Charlie? What's my excuse for disappearing for... how long was I gone, anyway?" I tried to count the hours in my head.
"Just three days." His eyes tightened, but he smiled more naturally this time. "Actually, I was hoping you might have a good explanation. I've got nothing."
I groaned. "Fabulous."
"Well, maybe Alice will come up with something," he offered, trying to comfort me.
And I was comforted. Who cared what I had to deal with later? Every second that he was here - so close, his flawless face glowing in the dim light from the numbers on my alarm clock - was precious and not to be wasted.
"So," I began, picking the least important - though still vitally interesting - question to start with. I was safely delivered home, and he might decide to leave at any moment. I had to keep him talking. Besides, this temporary heaven wasn't entirely complete without the sound of his voice. "What have you been doing, up until three days ago?"
His face turned wary in an instant. "Nothing terribly exciting."
"Of course not," I mumbled.
"Why are you making that face?"
"Well..." I pursed my lips, considering. "If you were, after all, just a dream, that's exactly the kind of thing you would say. My imagination must be used up."
He sighed. "If I tell you, will you finally believe that you're not having a nightmare?"
"Nightmare!" I repeated scornfully. He waited for my answer. "Maybe," I said after a second of thought. "If you tell me."
"I was... hunting."
"Is that the best you can do?" I criticized. "That definitely doesn't prove I'm awake."
He hesitated, and then spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "I wasn't hunting fot food... I was actually trying my hand at... tracking. I'm not very good at it."
"What were you tracking?" I asked, intrigued.
"Nothing of consequence." His words didn't match his expression; he looked upset, uncomfortable.
"I don't understand."
He hesitated; his face, shining with an odd green cast from the light of the clock, was torn.
"I - " He took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. No, of course I owe you much, much more than that. But you have to know," - the words began to flow so fast, the way I remembered he spoke sometimes when he was agitated, that I really had to concentrate to catch them all - "that I had no idea. I didn't realize the mess I was leaving behind. I thought it was safe for you here. So safe. I had no idea that Victoria," - his lips curled back when he said the name - "would come back. I'll admit, when I saw her that one time, I was paying much more attention to James's thoughts. But I just didn't see that she had this kind of response in her. That she even had such a tie to him. I think I realize why now - she was so sure of him, the thought of him failing never occurred to her. It was her overconfidence that clouded her feelings about him - that kept me from seeing the depth of them, the bond there.
"Not that there's any excuse for what I left you to face. When I heard what you told Alice - what she saw herself - when I realized that you had to put your life in the hands of werewolves, immature, volatile, the worst thing out there besides Victoria herself - he shuddered and the gush of words halted for a short second. "Please know that I had no idea of any of this. I feel sick, sick to my core, even now, when I can see and feel you safe in my arms. I am the most miserable excuse for - "
"Stop," I interrupted him. He stared at me with agonized eyes, and I tried to find the right words - the words that would free him from this imagined obligation that caused him so much pain. They were very hard words to say. I didn't know if I could get them out without breaking down. But I had to try to do it right. I didn't want to be a source of guilt and anguish in his life. He should be happy, no matter what it cost me.
I'd really been hoping to put off this part of our last conversation. It was going to bring things to an end so much sooner.
Drawing on all my months of practice with trying to be normal for Charlie, I kept my face smooth.
"Edward," I said. His name burned my throat a little on the way out. I could feel the ghost of the hole, waiting to rip itself wide again as soon as he disappeared. I didn't quite see how I was going to survive it this time. "This has to stop now. You can't think about things that way. You can't let this... this guilt... rule your life. You can't take responsibility for the things that happen to me here. None of it is your fault, it's just part of how life is for me. So, if I trip in front of a bus or whatever it is next time, you have to realize that it's not your job to take the blame. You can't just go running off to Italy because you feel bad that you didn't save me. Even if I had jumped off that cliff to die, that would have been my choice, and not your fault. I know it's your... your nature to shoulder the blame for everything, but you really can't let that make you go to such extremes! It's very irresponsible - think of Esme and Carlisle and - "
I was on the edge of losing it. I stopped to take a deep breath, hoping to calm myself. I had to set him free. I had to make sure this never happened again.
"Isabella Marie Swan," he whispered, the strangest expression crossing his face. He almost looked mad. "Do you believe that I asked the Volturi to kill me because I felt guilty?"