Chapter Text
We gather stones, never knowing what they’ll mean
Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring
You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you
But what a ghostly scene
You wear the same jewels that I gave you,
As you bury me
I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace
Cause when I’d fight, you used to tell me I was brave
And if I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?
Cursing my name, wishing I stayed
Look at how my tears ricochet
And I can go anywhere I want
Anywhere I want, just not home
And you can aim for my heart, go for blood
But you will still miss me in your bones…
TWO LEAVES IN THE WIND
Isabella wasn’t sure how it happened. One second, she was looking at the embodiment of her lost love, the second, the pain in her chest became so blinding, everything around her went dark.
And in the depths of the darkness, Isabella thought, surely it had been a dream. A hallucination brought on by how long she waited to feed. A wicked trick played by her mind to bring her more pain, as if the endless dreams of home hadn’t been enough over the years. It would mark the first time she saw him in a dream and the first time she’d seen those emerald eyes in over two hundred years.
There were several things that roused her from the darkness that had taken over. First was the sweet smell of lavender and the comfort of the cushion she laid on, not at all the familiar firmness of the wooden floors of the manor or the permitted smells of the drawing room. Then there were the voices, clear and multiple, not at all the whispers she’d grown used to. There was also the pain in the center of her chest, sharp and longing. Begging, even. And it called for one person and one person only.
Her ghost.
When Isabella opened her eyes, she realized it had not been a dream. Not at all. She laid on the most comfortable bed, a soft blanket covering her up to her shoulders. The room was illuminated by the lamp at her bedside. It was small, only a bed and a small vanity occupying the small space and there were no windows. Isabella threw the blanket off of herself, her cloak had been taken off of her and she’d been changed from her tattered dress to a pair of soft sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“You shouldn’t have sent him away.”
“We don’t know what we are dealing with, Esme.”
“Emmett called Rosalie and told her he is out of control. That is his mate, Carlisle.”
“That, or we are dealing with a vampire who is making him believe she is his mate. What if this is the vampire Aro is looking for? Do you realize the danger our son will be in?”
“You are going off assumptions. You saw that poor girl, the state of her alone! Besides, you know what Eleazar said-“
“We cannot know for sure if what Eleazar said is true-“
“Fine, if you don’t believe Eleazar, then think about it this way, Carlisle. I know you, and I know that as scared as you might be, you will not be able to live with yourself if something happens to this girl. A girl, who I remind you, is your son’s mate .”
Carlisle stayed quiet.
There was a beat of silence between the vampires on the other side of the door and just as Isabella was about to approach the door, the lock clicked and the same tall, blonde vampire walked in. Isabella recognized the woman he was with, it was the same small caramel-haired woman who’d stopped the other blonde from attacking her in the forest.
Carlisle and Esme.
They both looked shocked to see Isabella awake and standing by the foot of the bed. She retreated a step, unsure of what to expect of the couple, her hand pressed over the spot in her chest where the pain resided.
The woman, Esme, stepped around Carlisle regardless of his growl in protest.
“I’m so glad to see you’re awake,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming, as if she was trying her best not to seem threatening. “You gave us a fright in the woods when you lost consciousness. I was the one who changed your clothes,” Esme continued, pointing to Isabella's attire. “My son was quite insistent when he saw the state of your dress. I-I would’ve done it regardless if I had noticed it sooner, but he wouldn’t let anyone near you.”
The pain in Isabella’s chest deepened at the mention of her son.
“Luckily you and I are about the same size. I washed your cloak, but I’m afraid I couldn’t salvage the dress. Though, it was a bit outdated,” Esme joked in an attempt to lighten the tension in the room.
“You’re the vampire that took residence in Hawthorne Manor, aren’t you?” Carlisle finally spoke, his voice firm.
Isabella said nothing.
“What’s your name?” Esme asked, trying to get Isabella to talk.
She said nothing.
Esme turned to Carlisle and he sighed at the look on his mate’s face, and stepped forward to stand at her side. Isabella retreated once more.
“I know you don’t trust us, but I can assure you, no harm will come to you.”
Isabella wanted to tell him he couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
“We can help you, or we can at least try, but I need you to talk to me. My son thinks you’re his mate and he’s showing all the signs that point to it as such, but I need to know why you are hiding. Were you abandoned by your sire? Are you hiding from the Vulturi? Anything. Give me anyth-“
“Let me go.”
Both vampires looked startled at the sound of Isabella’s voice.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go.”
Carlisle’s gaze hardened. “Is that a threat?”
“Carlisle,” Esme chided.
“It’s a warning,” Isabella said. “Just let me go. I’ll leave the manor if that’s the issue and you will never have to see me again.”
“We can help you,” Esme said.
“You cannot.”
“At least give us a chance to try.”
“You cannot!” Isabella snapped, tears welling in her eyes. The pain in her chest pulsed. “Not at the cost of your family and I will not have your blood on my hands if the Vulturi find me with you. Nor will I risk you shipping me off to them-“
“I will not do that,” Carlisle said.
“I’m sure you understand I do not have the luxury of believing you.”
“Aro is after me as well.”
Isabella froze. He could be lying, she thought to herself.
“I will not do anything that will put my family in danger.”
“Then let me go.”
“I cannot do that.” Carlisle stepped forward and Isabella fell another step back, pressing up against the wall. “My son believes you are his mate, which means the second he learns you are gone, he will go after you and if he goes after you, he will be vulnerable out there. His life will be in danger-“
“Then make sure he doesn’t follow me!”
“You know even if I wanted to, I can’t do that. My son will go after you and I’ve spent our entire lives making sure he is safe, so if he goes, we will follow. So we might as well work together and figure this out.”
Isabella finally took a step forward.
“You don’t understand, I’ve been on the run from Aro for over two centuries. I have invested a lot of time in making sure he never gets to me and I have been able to do so without leveraging anyone. If you let me go, I will never speak a word of it. You’ll never have to see me again and your family will be safe.”
Isabella felt the desperation growing inside her. She didn’t know whether or not she could trust them, but she wasn’t going to be naive enough to figure it out. She needed to get out, to get away. Even when every nerve in her body was telling her to stay, when everything inside her ached for her ghost.
“Believe me or not, I know what Aro is capable of if he were to find us,” Carlisle said. “And I believe we can help each other in making sure he doesn’t. You just have to trust me, just like I will have to trust you. We each stand to lose something if we don’t.”
She, once again, shook her head.
Carlisle gave Esme a look that said I tried before stepping out of the room. Esme looked at Isabella pleadingly, and Isabella wasn’t sure what she wanted from her. Did she want her to stay? Did she want her to trust them?
She couldn’t. It was too far a risk.
Esme stepped out into the hallway where Carlisle waited for her and the door was shut once more, and the lock clicked in place. Isabella sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the brick wall. Her body hummed in need of her ghost. The memory of his face, how he looked at her in the woods - those emerald eyes set on her. He looked so much like him. He sounded like him.
And even when every part of her body ached for him, called to him, she couldn’t risk it. If she was alone, then she’d only have herself to worry about. She didn’t have anything to lose. Wasn’t that what Benjamin had warned her about? She couldn’t have a friend or an ally in this world because their lives would be in danger and could be used against her, much less a mate.
She needed to go.
She had to leave him behind even when the idea felt like a hot iron pike being stabbed through her chest. She laughed to herself and the feeling was alien to her as she hadn’t laughed in a long time, but she simply couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it all was laughable. The simple thought of leaving behind a person whose name she didn’t even know caused her so much pain was laughable, or it would’ve been had it not felt so strange.
Isabella paced the windowless room tirelessly for what felt like hours. She didn’t know where she was or who was still here and she hadn’t heard Carlisle nor Esme since they left the room. She needed to get out. She needed to find a way back to the manor and get out of the state before her ghost came back and had a chance to stop her.
Hours later, the door finally clicked and swung open, revealing the beautiful blonde from the woods who’d hissed at Isabella when she pinned Emmett down. Is this the Rosalie Esme had mentioned before?
She crossed her arms over her chest and Isabella noticed she held her cloak in her hand. The woman gave her a glance over, her gaze hard and lips pursed.
“They went to go get him,” she said, her voice sultry. “Jasper can’t contain him anymore and Esme was able to convince Carlisle to let him come home.”
Isabella stopped breathing.
“They should be back by midnight.” Rosalie threw the cloak on the bed and pressed her back against the door, leaving an open path. “If you leave now, you can be far far away by the time he gets here. And it will rain soon, he’ll lose your scent.”
Isabella was shocked. She didn’t move, unsure if this was a test or not.
“Why are you doing this?” She asked.
Rosalie gives Isabella a sad smile.
“Because I love my family and my mate, and as much as I love my brother-in-law and want him to be happy, he is no good to anyone dead. And if he dies because of you, it will destroy the family. So go. You have to be out of the state by nightfall and get as far away from here as possible. Head east, you’ll find your way back to the manor.”
Isabella didn’t waste a second. Grabbing the cloak from the bed, she rushed out the door and up the stairs at the end of the corridor. She realized Rosalie had left the front door open for her when the scent of humidity in the air hit her at the top of the stairs. Isabella didn’t dare glance around the home she found herself in, her attention only laid ahead, at the open door and the woods beyond.
Don’t, warned the voice in her head.
The voice of her ghost.
I have to, she thought to herself, unsure if he could hear her.
She would be gone by the time he made it back, and as much as the thought hurt, Isabella simply couldn’t risk it. She looked back at Rosalie, who stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her to leave. She couldn’t verbally express her gratitude for giving her a chance to do the right thing, so she nodded in her direction and threw the cloak on.
Isabella was gone by the time Rosalie made it to the top of the stairs.
It’d already started raining by the time Isabella got to the manor. She left a trail of water droplets along the manor’s wooden floor as she rushed to the drawing room, plucking the bag she kept tucked in one of the corners in case she needed to make a hasty escape. It was then she realized she had nothing but her books to pack.
She had nothing.
Clothing… well, Esme had called those old fashioned. She had no personal artifacts, nothing. The manor, really, was the only thing she had that held any real significance. The manor had been her home, her shelter, her grave… and now she was forced to leave it behind. Forced to a life outside as a nomad once more. She couldn’t even stay in the country after she left, that would be asking for her ghost to find her.
She’d be back where she was before she found the manor.
Lost.
The bag slipped from her grasp as Isabella fell to her knees, tears clouding her vision.
This marked yet another thing taken from her, ripped from her grasp and she couldn’t save it no matter how hard she grasped it. She had found her mate, and fate had been cruel enough to make her mate a ghost of her lost love, and what was worse? She couldn’t even have him. She didn’t even know his name and she never would, she couldn’t even be granted that one kindness.
She could feel that bond within. She could feel how every fiber of her being called to him, how that pull in her chest begged her to go to him, and she couldn’t give in. Being with her was not an option. Loving her was a death sentence.
Fate had brought her her mate and fate itself made it so she would lose him all over again.
It would be sad, had she not felt so angry. No, not angry. Isabella wasn’t angry, she was filled with rage, filled with despair and she was so, so tired. All those emotions bubbled inside of her, making her skin crawl and her breaths shallow. She folded over, ducking her head between her shoulders as all her emotions boiled over inside of her and she let out an earth shattering scream that not even the thunder could muffle.
She was tired.
She didn’t want to run anymore.
She didn’t want to hide.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t risk anyone’s life, not even when it meant leaving her mate behind.
But she was so, so tired.
She hadn’t been able to sleep in weeks and she’d barely fed before they’d found her. Isabella curled on the floor, tucking her knees to her chest as her eyes began to feel heavy and her breathing slowed. She knew she couldn’t sleep and she needed to leave, but sleep came in a heavy wave and before she knew it, she was swept away in her dreams.
In her dream, Isabella found herself in a meadow. It was different from her other dreams, usually when she dreamt, she dreamt of home, of her parents, but this time around she found herself alone in a meadow. It took her a moment, as she took in the colorful flowers under the sun and the trees that surrounded her, that this wasn’t just any meadow.
It was their meadow.
The meadow they would sneak away to back at home when they wanted a moment alone. A moment where they could be together without their parents’ watchful eye.
It was their meadow.
And for the first time, in over two hundred years, she saw him in her dream. There he stood in the middle of their meadow, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers and that sly grin on his face that made her dead heart flutter. His bronze hair looked vibrant under the rays of the sun and his eyes…
A sob escaped Isabella.
For the first time in a very long time, she felt at home.
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and extended it to her, and it took everything in her power not to run to him and throw herself in his arms. In the end, she failed and she did just that, and the moment their bodies collided, and she felt his arms wrap around her, she cried and spoke the name she hadn’t spoken since the day he died.
“Edward.”
Deep in the woods, in the dead of night, a shadowy figure approached the gates of Hawthorne Manor. The chains that once held the gates closed shattered under the palm of his hands - really it took little to no effort - and the gates creaked loudly as they swung open.
He stopped at the foot of the gate, taking in the manor and the fog that had fallen over it. The tug, that string that tied him to his mate reverberated the closer he got to her. She was still here and the relief he felt was like taking his first breath.
He walked through the open door of the manor and he could feel the shift in the atmosphere the second he stepped inside. The floors creaked under his feet and his steps echoed through the halls as he followed the bond, down to an old drawing room where his mate laid curled on the hardwood floor.
He tsked in displeasure, looking around the room until he found a small cot by the old fireplace. His displeasure grew then. His mate shouldn’t be here, she deserved a home, a comfortable bed, but he knew he couldn’t just take her in the night. No, he wanted to do this the right way and that was not by scaring her, she was scared enough.
He bent down and pulled her into his arms, and he couldn’t hold back the small hum of satisfaction when he touched her, just like it’d happened when he first carried her in the woods. Their bond enveloped them, dancing around one another like two leaves in the wind.
It felt right. As it should be.
He carried her to the cot and laid her down gently. Her hair covered her face, so he knelt down beside her and tucked her hair behind her ear. He could see the remnants of her tears staining her beautiful porcelain cheeks. It didn’t feel right. He should’ve been there to wipe them away, kiss them away even. But beyond the stained cheeks, he marveled at her beauty. She was just as he’d seen in his dreams. Just as he’d drawn on the pages of his sketchbook.
He’d waited over two hundred years for her, unsure if she was real, and now, there she was.
His dream.
He could feel her exhaustion through their bond, so as desperate as he was to talk to her, she needed to sleep. They would have all the time in the world to speak when she woke.
He sighed and against his better judgment, he gave her her space and approached the window. There, beyond the manor, was a lake, barely visible through the fog.
In her sepulcher there by the sea, he recited in his mind. In her tomb by the sounding sea.
The shadowy figure approached the small pile of books on the old desk and skimmed through the titles, trying to get an insight into her mind and learn something about her.
She liked the classics, he noticed.
He picked up the copy of Wuthering Heights, her favorite judging by the worn leather and folded pages. So, he took a seat and began skimming through the pages and the tragic love story they held within.
He had waited for her for two hundred years and not even fate herself could tear him from her side from this moment forward.
And that was a vow he made to his dream in the darkness of the manor.