Disclaimer: I do no own the characters of Twilight. The story is also loosely based off of Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block.

Warning: This story involves adult themes, controversial and possibly offensive material.

A/N: Your Playlist is Nine Inch Nails' "Just Like You Imagined" and "Even Deeper". Best read in ½.

Thank you to my wonderful beta Sobriquett. Thank you as well to Babette12, 2questionmarks, and Raffinie, everyone was a huge help.

After reading check out the Jekyll/Cullen contest. http://www(DOT)fanfiction(DOT)net/u/2170415/Jekyll_and_Cullen

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

My dreams were never perfect, but they were always right.

Or maybe I was the imperfect one? Me and you and a love that was never ours to have.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have warned you of what was to come. The swan in my dreams that would claim you, complete you, save you as I was never able to. I damned you.

You, who was perfect. With your bronze hair that would match your skin in the summer, your emerald green eyes and your crooked smile. You were the one who brought me medicine when I was sick, bought me sanitary napkins on my first period, and held me when I had a nightmare. You protected me when father became worried about my dreams, and you believed me whenever I told you what was to come.

It was later that things changed. When you would glare at the boys who would take me on dates; only there was more than protectiveness there. Sometimes you would walk out onto your balcony as I did laps in the pool and you would stand there and watch me for what seemed like hours. I don't think you knew that I knew. If you did that look in your eyes might have grown to something scary…

Which it did…because now you're gone. You and your eyes that were once so happy but became so tortured. So sad.

I never meant for it to happen though I should have known it was coming. Now that I look back I know I should never have depended so heavily on my dreams. You were never in them. Because they showed me what was meant to be. Or what should have been. What would have been if that night had never happened.

I can never be sorry enough that it did happen. That we so completely lost control. That we forgot morals and who we were for one night. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know it would change everything. I didn't know it would change the fates of not just us but the people around us.

I didn't know it would kill you.

I can never tell you enough that this is not your fault. If I could I would repeat it over and over, on every line, and every sheet of paper I could find.

This is not your fault.

This is me and I am weak. I was too weak not to feel it. Too weak to stop it. Too weak to stay.

I'm sorry.

I remember when we were children. Only a year apart in age but you were still so small. Always so small. My sister, my Alice. Father has always been insistent that I help to protect you. You were always like Mother, fragile, beautiful. You always told me that I couldn't possibly know what she was like, not any better than you could, but I did. Every time father described her, I could see the love in his eyes; I knew she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him…

I could only see you.

I have always tried to fulfill the task before me. The first time you dreamt of what was to come, we were so young, and yet you were going on about swans and guns and crescent moons and graveyards. Neither of us knew what you were talking about, but you clung to me when I came into your room, into your bed. I held you the whole night as you cried and begged me not to leave you.

I promised I wouldn't.

I will be honest and say that I have never believed in your power as much as I do at this moment.

I'm sorry I can't keep my promise.

This isn't your fault.

It was the night I lost my virginity.

You were downstairs in the gym that father had installed a year before. I had never gone down, it was your space, and we both understood. It was strange the amount of time you spend down there. For a long time the only thing you needed was a good pair of sneakers and a path to run down.

A year's worth of weights had done more than I could have ever imagined.

As I walked down the stairs my eyes were met with the naked flesh of your back as you put down a heavily packed barbell. I must have gasped because suddenly you were turning towards me, and I couldn't help but drink you in.

Your arms were larger than I remembered, veins raised from the recent use, and your chest…Oh your chest was as defined as I never believed it could be, your stomach a series of crisscrossing contours that created a six pack. I caught sight of a drop of sweat which traveled down the muscle right down to the v of your pelvis until it hit the hem of your shorts.

I had never noticed it, your t-shirts were never of the tight variety, and now I wondered why. The girls at school were constantly falling over themselves for you; I wouldn't be surprised if they dropped their panties at the sight of you now.

But this wasn't their sight to see. It was mine.

I pushed my thighs together in order to hide the moisture that was gathering, even if it would be nearly impossible for you to see. I wanted to reach out and touch you, to see if the light brown hair on your stomach was as soft as it looked.

"Where are you going?" You were angry, and for a moment I could swear you knew my thoughts. But at this point you weren't looking angrily in my eyes; you were looking at my body. No, not my body, my clothes.

I looked down and remembered why I came down here in the first place. My figure was almost boyish, something my height had never helped. I was wearing black wedge sandals, a jean skirt, and one of your old wife-beaters over a push-up bra. My hair was straightened with a light flip at the shoulder. Gone were my beads and bangles, my handmade skirts and painted shirts.

I felt grown up, sexy.

I wanted you to see me that way.

"To the movies," I replied. I placed my hands on the slight curve of my hips, trying to emanate the confidence that my outfit clearly showed.

You frowned deeper. "With who?"

I tried not to get too distracted as you grabbed a towel and wiped yourself dry.

"Peter Evans."

"Isn't he with Charlotte O'Leary?"

I shrug. "They broke up." Lie, they were on a break. This date was Peter's attempt to get back at Charlotte for cheating on him with some college guy. I didn't particularly care.

You did. You wanted to say something. You wanted to argue. A year ago you would have. I expected you to.

"Alice… Be careful," you said, but your eyes said something more.

It wasn't enough. That night I lost my virginity to Peter in the back of his mom's sedan.

When I returned home that night you were waiting for me since father was working late. You stood in a wife beater with your hands in your pockets, an apprehensive look on your face. "Have fun?"

I nodded. For a moment I thought you were going to hit something you looked so angry. You didn't even look in my eyes.

"Put my shirt back when you're done with it," you said, before walking back to your room.

I no longer felt empowered.

I felt shame.

I wouldn't allow another man to come between us like that again.

Well, except for Jasper.

The whole school is in mourning the second everyone catches wind that Edward Cullen shot himself. Everyone is shocked. Everyone but one.

They try to make sense out of it. Some are trying to claim it was an accident. Which could work, if it wasn't for the hand gun that was used, or the anonymous call that was sent to the police station that there would be a body in the exact place in the woods where he was found 20 minutes before he did it.

Tanya Denali has been in hysterics, inconsolable. It's rumored that she missed her period and might be pregnant. Apparently, they were secretly dating, or so everyone says.

Jasper Whitlock knows different, even if he wishes to God that he didn't.

Edward and Tanya's apparent bastard child isn't the only gossip. Alice Cullen hasn't appeared since the news. They say that she ran out of school the moment she found out. Well, they were always close.

Jasper Whitlock knows they were close. He also knows they were a little too close. Even if he wishes to God that he didn't.

Jasper wishes he could forget what he knows about the Cullens even if he knows he can't. Edward was always his friend, and Alice, well, Alice is everything. She is pale and small with flowing black hair and pert little breasts and little hips that he always wanted to put his hands on. Alice was beautiful and he knew it.

So did Edward.

He remembers the times they would all hang out and jam together. Edward at his piano, Jasper with his guitar, and sometimes Alice would sing, other times she would paint her nails, but the best times were when she would get up and dance. Her little body held all the rhythym of the music, and she would sway with every tune. Jasper had never seen anything so sensual, sometimes he would miss a note.

Edward always made a point to look away from his sister. When he didn't he would watch her in such a way that made Jasper wonder if he was losing his soul. It was so intense, too intense, and moments like those always made Jasper incredibly uncomfortable. He wondered if when they were alone Alice looked back with the same intensity.

He hoped not.

But Jasper didn't want to think about such things right now. Right now he needed to find Alice.

I tried to stop it. I hope you know that.

When we visited New York and we went to that concert on the beach, it was hot, so you wore shorts and a bikini top. I tried not to watch you. I tried to look at Kate, who wore the same thing and was taller than you and more developed, and I should have wanted her, but my eyes kept straying towards you.

When you and Kate returned to the hotel room, I told you I was going for a walk but really I met up with a tall blond with long legs and cold blue eyes. Her father was a banker, and like most spoiled children, nothing I said could surprise her. Apparently her eyes had been on a big guy she met in the Midwest who lived on a farm and refused to move to the big city for her.

We were both just replacements for someone else.

"What do you want?" she asked me. "Want me to put on a black wig, leggings, and clap my hands?"

"Oh no, ice queen, none of that," I said before grabbing her hair and throwing her on the bed. She looked back at me with a knowing smirk and lust-filled eyes.

She was the furthest from you I could find.

It was the first night I smoked pot and drank myself to the point where I couldn't see anything and even without the wig and the leggings she still became you.

I was too far gone. Nothing I could do would help.

You did the same a year later. The night you came back from your date with Peter Evans I almost commited murder. The next day I beat him so hard that he couldn't leave his house for a week. The official story was that he was hit by a car.

He didn't deserve your virginity. You should have never given it to him. You should have given it out of love.

A part of me hated you for giving it away like that. A part of me hated you for not waiting.

And I hated myself for wanting to be him.

This isn't your fault.

He finds her exactly where he knew he would. Deep in the woods, in the treehouse that Edward and Alice had built when they were children.

"Alice?" he calls up, but he hears nothing. As he climbs up the old ladder he wonders if the old thing will fall to pieces now that Edward is gone. He never remembered it being so rickety or rotted before this.

When he reaches the top he calls her again and is met with a sob.

Alice sits in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs, her head bowed between her knees. He's not too surprised at the state in which he's found her. What does surprise him is her hair on the floor surrounding her, and the knife that she clutches in her hand.

Moving closer, he reaches out his hands to lift up her face and she only sobs louder before opening her eyes and staring into his. She must have used the knife to cut it because the strands of hair that fall into her face are short and choppy, different lengths at every point. He goes to touch it but she pulls away as if he is trying to slap her.

"He's gone," she chokes out before pulling herself into a tighter ball.

In that moment, he hates Edward.

It doesn't matter to Jasper if what they had was wrong, or immoral. If Edward was here Alice would smile. She would laugh at the crickety old tree house before excitedly clapping her hands and announcing that they would fix it.

But Edward is dead.

And Jasper doesn't know what to do.

Since before I can remember, I've dreamt of the swan. Most other dreams I have been able to figure out, except for the swan.

When I first told you about her, you insisted that she was our mother. Everything would go back to Esme back then. Father never spoke of her, too heartbroken over her death, but you would go on about her… as if you knew her. Which you didn't. Neither of us did.

"I know her because I know you. I'm positive you're just like her."

I wasn't. We found the pictures one day and were amazed to see that she looked nothing like we expected. You had inherited her hair, her tan skin, her soft eyes. Her eyes were a emerald green and she would excite easily, always the generous one, always ready to plan; you said I got that from her.

My black hair and small stature were an enigma.

"You're an enigma. Just think of your dreams," you would say.

So I would let it go. Because you told me that, and you would never have lied to me.

For a long time I thought this meant the swan was protecting me, guiding me.

I haven't seen the swan since you died.

I have no memories of Mother pregnant. Nor do I remember you as a newborn, coming into our home for the first time. In my memories, your eyes were always a deep chocolate brown, not the blue that most babies are born with.

In my mind, you were always coming towards me; therefore, you were always moving. You crawled, stumbled, walked, and ran, always towards me.

The very first time you took a step I was there, holding your hands so you wouldn't fall. I was your big brother, meant to catch you before you could fall, to protect you.

I wasn't supposed to bring you down with me.

This isn't your fault.

I think if things were different, Jasper would have been it for me.

Jasper's tall and strong, blond hair and green-eyes. He's smart and quiet and soothing. His presence can calm me like no others…

Except for you…Sometimes I still wonder if I'm attracted to him because of his similarties to you, or if maybe I was attracted to you because I knew I would one day meet him.

I don't think I'll ever know.

When I went to the treehouse, I'd been so angry, so confused and unsure. I kept running my hands through my hair and I just thought of you and the dream I had not too long ago where you were running your hands through thick tresses of chesnut, not my long black locks.

Not me not me not me.

And it didn't make sense because you're…not here. It shouldn't matter.

But it did.

Then I was here. In Jasper's little room, with half my hair cropped off my head, wrapped in an old flannel shirt.

I hadn't even noticed I grabbed it.

It was from my first period. You were in your first year of High School, I was in my last year of Junior High. I'd gone to the bathroom only to find that my underwear and light blue shorts were completely soiled.

I cried and cried but I didn't call dad or any of my friends in class who could have helped. I called you.

You bolted out of your 4th period classroom, later informing me that it got you your one and only detention. Within 20 minutes you had run from the High School to the Junior High on the other side of town. It didn't even seem to bother you that I was in the girls' bathroom.

"Hey you, it's alright, I'm here."

You wrapped your flannel around my waist and we walked home, taking a stop at a convenience store for pads. I was too embarrassed to go in so you quickly ran in and grabbed what I needed before running out, no questions asked.

"You know you can always call me, whenever you need me. It's what I'm here for."

Now I clutch the flannel closer to me and try to will the tears away.

I need you now.

He misses her smile.

She used to always smile.

Now she sits in his room and stares at the walls. Sometimes they'll watch a movie or read. He tries to pick up his guitar but she cries eventually, longing for the piano that will never come.

He tries. But nothing helps.

He's pretty sure the pain is meant to decrease, but Jasper hates Edward more and more with every day that passes by. She's just so small, so thin, so fragile.

And nothing helps.

So when she kisses him one day, suddenly, randomly, he can't deny her. Alice is the girl of his dreams; sometimes he thinks he could deny her nothing.

And it's probably wrong. But what about this whole thing isn't?

I'm ruining everything. I ruined it all. I know I did.

But no, don't think about such things. Think about everything before. Before the best and worst night of my life.

Think of our prom. Well, your prom. I never went to mine, no reason to. I went to yours. I know you were angry for most of the night because I went with Kate, but you had no reason to be. It was so we could all be together, to have fun. You went with Jasper and I went with Kate, and by the end of the night you were happy.

You wore that bright yellow dress that made you the center of the room, the center of my universe. I asked you to give your dear old brother a dance and you did and we danced and danced leaving poor Jasper and Kate on their own.

Or am I thinking of the wrong points? These are the things that led us to that point in the tree house.

Maybe we shouldn't have danced at all. My Universe wasn't the only one you were the center of that night. It's why I stole you away. You would have been happy if I had never gone. You would have enjoyed your time.

I couldn't handle the way you stared at each other. It's why I asked Kate, it's why I monopolized all your time at the dance.

This isn't your fault.

They don't sleep together at first. Jasper tries to do right and hold her off. She's mourning, and fragile, and he isn't completely sure what, or who, she truly wants.

"It feels right Jasper, I'm sure you'll fit. I know you will."

When she said fit, he somehow knew she was talking about something other than the fitting of parts.

Alice is right, of course. Every dent, every curve, every line, every angle, and yes, in the most primal of fashions…they fit.

But she still isn't happy. Jasper's beginning to wonder if she ever will be.

They lie together on his bed, her head resting snugly on his chest. He strokes her back, flinching as he feels her spine and wonders if he'll ever get used to the feel of her decaying body. She's so small…he's sure that one day she'll just disintegrate into the air.

Suddenly she lifts herself up and begins what he can only call an inspection. He can feel himself becoming aroused as her small hands run smooth around his body and for one morbid second he hopes she's seeing him.

Alice has never touched him so thoroughly.

"What are you looking for?" he whispers.

She stops suddenly, and he wonders if she found whatever it is. She begins to carefully trace his thigh before suddenly stopping.

My scar…

Her hands trace it carefully, a look of disbelief on her face. "How did you get this?"

She continues to touch it and he tries to gently stroke her hair, unsure of what her unease is. "When I was younger I was bitten by a dog."

She looks at the mark and then back at him in disbelief.

"I was young, small, and he was a very big and determined dog."

Alice has no further questions; she continues to stroke his scar until suddenly, to Jasper's disbelief..she begins to cry.

"Alice…"

She lifts her tearstained eyes to his own, swimming chocolate brown lost in a haze of sadness. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't even understand why she cries.

Instead he holds her, and for no reason in particular, he curses Edward again.

For the longest time I've had the same type of dreams. I'm running towards a crescent moon in the distance, a swan glaring (she's glaring, no matter what you thought) and then a gunshot goes off in the distance. It happens in a different manner each time. Different things appear, little things will change.

I looked up the moon in dreams once; it was supposed to be love, hope, the unconscious.

It was you. No matter what those books said I could always bring it back to you.

Because you were light and good and beautiful. A true light in the dark. I would run and run and try to grab it and when I awoke you would be there, comforting me, singing me back to sleep. How could my moon not be you?

Because it wasn't you.

I should have waited but I was so impatient and you were…you. I thought I had it right.

But it wasn't you, Edward. It wasn't you at all.

We fit like you and I never should have. He has a crescent moon engraved in his skin.

He is it. He is the one. The one I've been waiting for.

Then why can't I let you go?

Sometimes I would dream of spinning. Then I would dream of falling.

It was always the same. There would be hope and happiness and love. I would be whole and just…right. A feeling of rightness I didn't know existed.

I would spin and spin and be free of everything. Free of guilt, free of wrong, free of sadness.

And then, just like that…I would fall.

When I awoke I would feel a need to be near you. The feeling from my dreams was close to the feelings I had when I was with you.

I could never stop my feet. They guided me to you without fail, everytime.

You would be tossing and turning and I would hold you in my arms and try to chase the nightmares away.

I wished I could always hold you. Could always be near you, more than what's right.

This is not your fault.

"You've been out a lot."

It's the first thing Dad has said since you…left. He barely ever leaves his room, your room…he's always in one of them.

"I've been at Jasper's," I respond, hoping that it'll be left at that.

I watch him nod, barely hearing what I said. My poor, sad father. So empty. This house has been so empty. His last reminder of mother is gone with the green of Edward's eyes.

My beautiful father. Blond hair and blue eyes; he was so beautiful next to mother, hers a caramel brown with green eyes the color of Edward's.

"How could I have ever believed I was yours?"

I blurt it out without thinking, and father's eyes suddenly have feeling as they stare into mine. They fill with tears and I feel mine fill as well. I've made my father cry. And I finally know the truth.

His arms wrap tightly around me and I cry in his shoulder. "I love you dearly, my Alice. Even if you aren't ours by blood, we loved you as if you were."

Not by blood.

We sit down and he explains.

Adopted. I was adopted. No blood between us, you and I.

And suddenly I'm angry and sad and crying and I'm just so mad. I slam my fists against any surfaces I can find. I curse your name and I curse mine and I curse fate.

Father holds me tightly making soothing sounds, and I'm amazed he still does since it's so clear that there's something more, something so far from platontic between us and even if we aren't related by blood it should still be wrong, shouldn't it?

"I was in your room today."

His voice shakes and I'm barely listening so I just nod as he continues.

"There's a floorboard…a loose one in your room. I didn't know what to do with myself so I decided to fix it…" He pulls away, and holds up an envelope with my name on it. So obviously already opened and read. "So like Edward to hide the note right beneath our noses."

"I want to visit Edward," she suddenly announces one day and for a moment he's worried. "His grave, Jasper. I haven't completely lost my mind."

He nods his head, unsure if she's ready, unable to say no. They head to his car and begin the short drive to the local cemetery.

"Who was the youngest person you knew to die?" she asks him suddenly, her eyes toward the window as they watch the trees fly past.

"I guess the Chief's daughter," he decides with a shrug. Alice wouldn't know about her; she and Edward didn't move here until Junior High. "She was only five."

"What happened?" she asks, lazily. It's making him nervous.

"She was always pretty clumsy if I remember correctly. I guess she was playing on the porch, spinning in circles, you know? And then she just…fell."

Alice nods. He continues.

"Her mom left not too long after. Too much pain in the house, you know?"

"And this was…the Chief's daughter?" she's suddenly interested, suddenly hesitant.

He nods.

"What was her name, Jasper?"

He's unsure if he should answer. He doesn't know where she's going with this, why this is so important.

He answers anyway.

"Bella…Bella Swan."

It was starting to become too much. Part of the reason why I went there in the first place that night.

Our two had become a three and was becoming two again...Only I wasn't a part of it. It was just you and Jasper. And I wanted to be happy. How I wanted to be happy for you.

You were going to the movies. I told you I had no interest in seeing that one. Jasper looked relieved while you looked disappointed. I knew you'd forget the moment you walked out the door with him.

I knew it was time to say goodbye to you.

I had a plan all figured out. Kate always liked me, maybe I could like her. She was close to you, and even if I couldn't have you, maybe I could have someone close.

That night I sat in our treehouse, and I drank and I drank, hoping to drink you away. To say goodbye. You were my sister and that was all you would ever be.

I had to let you go.

And then you were there.

And I was weak. So wonderfully weak.

And I'm so sorry Alice. So incredibly sorry. Because my only regret is the pain it would cause.

I'm sorry that I still am so weak. Too weak to stay.

This isn't your fault.

He pulls up to the cemetery and turns off the engine. The sun is still high in the sky, reflecting off the tombstones beyond the fence.

They sit in an awkward silence as he waits for her to do…something.

Alice just sits there, staring intently ahead.

Maybe she isn't ready… He feels a twinge of disappointment at the thought. One he quickly shakes away. Selfish…be patient.

He shakes his head and moves to put the key back in the ignition.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Jasper?"

He stops and turns toward the girl sitting next to him for the first time since she entered his car. He'd gotten so used to the same thing over and over, it was easy to imagine what he would see.

She's not wearing his flannel.

"…I don't know," he responds, hoping he hasn't messed up something that could be profound.

Alice helps him along. "What do you think would happen if your soulmate died?"

Jasper swallows. He had a feeling he knew where she was going… He had always hoped to avoid this specific conversation with her.

He licks his lips nervously. "I guess…I guess you'd just have to move on…"

"Move on…" She looks at the sky and sighs. "Like a back-up plan…"

She shakes her head and grabs the door handle.

Jasper doesn't know why, but he can't fight his impulse to grab her arm. "Alice…"

Her brown eyes meet his again and he freezes for a moment. He knows how seriously Alice takes her dreams; how could he make her take him seriously?

"Not everything needs to be planned. Sometimes we need to just live our lives…and not allow destiny to control us."

He doesn't know if what he says makes sense, he just knows he has to say it.

Her lips are soft against his skin. "Thank you, Jazz."

He's stunned, because her smile…it seems real. And for the first time in a while, he sees a spark in her eyes.

As he watches her make her way through the gate and into the cemetery, Jasper wonders if this visit isn't what he thought it was. If maybe he was wrong about who exactly Alice was talking about, what exactly she was going about….

Maybe she knew it was time to let go.

I knew what you were doing at the time. I don't know how but I knew. I probably should have let you go. I should have let you go.

Instead when Jasper dropped me off, I ignored his attempt to kiss me. A part of me wanted to stay, but I denied it. I ran into the woods and found the house.

You yelled at me at first. You didn't want me to run through the woods at night alone. You wanted to know where Jasper was and did he know about this?

I shook my head and sat down beside you.

I took a swig from your bottle and ignored your protest.

"You can't protect me from everything, Edward," I told you.

You looked sad.

"I know…I know…" You ripped the bottle from my hand and gulped it down.

"Edwa-"

"I want to spin, Alice. Is that crazy?" You looked at me, wanting answers. Questions I wanted to answer. Questions I was too afraid to answer.

Spinning, spinning… I didn't know what you meant. You would talk of spinning so frequently, but I didn't know, I didn't know.

"Always spinning. I spin for you."

I don't know how it happens, but suddenly you're so close.

And I'm just me. And you're you. And you're everything.

And we don't fit…not the way I thought we would. But it's the best night of my life…

And in the morning you're gone.

And I pull on my clothes, unsure of what happened. Unsure if it was real. Unsure of where you are. Unsure of what happens now.

I climb down the ladder, and there she is. Just sitting, waiting.

A swan. In the middle of the woods. Glaring at me.

I understand now. She was glaring because she was looking for you.

And I was in her way.

I tried to hold on. I tried to remain. But how could I?

The only thing that's in your way of happiness, true happiness…is me.

He's your moon, Alice. And I'm empty. I have only ever felt full in my dreams, and the only time I felt close was in that treehouse.

But that can never be. You deserve more. You deserve happiness.

You deserve Jasper.

And I'm sorry I can give you no closure. I began this with an intent, for you to understand, to know.

But you can't. You can't find this, Alice. Not now. Maybe one day, but not now. Find it when you're happy, find it when you've moved on. It will be hard, but you will.

I have faith. I have hope. You're strong, so much stronger than I ever have been.

Find solace in Jasper.

And whenever you need me, whenever you crave my presence, I'll be there. I'll be there inside his arms, his kiss…

Until you can let me go.

This isn't your fault.

I love you.

I sit in front of your grave, unsure of what my responses should be anymore. The cold stone and dirt and flowers and, deep down, the coffin and none of it is you. Just a name…not you.

I can't decide if I should speak out loud as I know some do, but it doesn't feel right. It's not you.

Leaning against the stone - is that blasphemy? You'd understand.

I look around. Jasper decided to give me some time alone, unsure of what I wanted to accomplish. I'm unsure ofwhat I want to accomplish myself.

I look across the way, then suddenly, I stop.

Across the way lies a stone like yours, an angel above it.

Isabella Marie Swan

1990-1995

Beloved daughter taken too early.

"Swan…"

The tears are falling before I can stop them. I understood, I completely understood always.

"The swan, Edward, she's always been angry with me. She wanted you to return to her. Her mate."

I'm talking to no one but I'm doing it anyway. I can't stop myself. You aren't there, but you are, but I don't want you to be.

"We never had a chance…she's always been waiting. One stupid fall! Messed everything up!"

I sob even harder.

"I could have never made you happy. We were never meant to be."

I think of the similarities between you and Jasper and I know instinctively what Bella looked like. Long mahoghany locks, deep brown eyes; she would have been beautiful.

Eventually I calm. I pull out your letter, the one you left me with the intent of me never finding it. It's earlier than you wanted, but I understand now. I get it.

It's time to let you go.

Deep breaths, deep full breaths.

I close my eyes tightly, as tight as I can.

Let go let go let go.

And then it happens…It's never happened when I'm awake, but suddenly I'm in a dream again.

And before me is the swan. She swims gracefully, and I wonder why she's alone again. Why I can't seem to do anything right.

"I let him go. He's always been yours."

Just like that. Just like that another joins her. They rub their beaks and entwine their necks and I'm ready. Ready to let go.

The other swan looks over to me for a brief moment before they fly away. Finally together. Finally whole. Hopefully happy.

"Alice!"

I am sitting in front of your grave. The sun is setting beyond the trees.

"I'm sorry, it's just getting late…Alice?"

Jasper…Beautiful Jasper. My crescent moon.

I nod and smile.

Life is twisted. And maybe it shouldn't have happened, but it did. And I loved you as I will never love anyone again because it was personal and secret and ours.

But I can be free. I can let you be free. And maybe one day our souls will reunite. And maybe things will be as they were meant to be. Maybe one day I will meet your swan, and we can be friends.

And you and I will be as we should, whatever that is.

"I'll be inside the one that holds you, and then I won't be."-Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block