I wasn't sure what the hell I was doing here. Was I trying to push myself back into the zombie stupor? Had I turned masochistic

"Hey, I'm the masochistic one," Edward said almost smirking.

–developed a taste for torture? I should have gone straight down to La Push I felt much, much healthier around Jacob. This was not a healthy thing to do.

But I continued to drive slowly down the overgrown lane, twisting through the trees that arched over me like a green,

"Oh, she's going to our house," Edward sighed.

"That doesn't go well with her 'trying to forget' plan," Emmett chuckled.

"But it goes with her trying to remember," Edward said. "To prove I was real in the first place."

living tunnel My hands were shaking, so I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I knew that part of the reason I did this was the nightmare, now that I was really awake, the nothingness of the dream gnawed on my nerves, a dog worrying a bone.

There was something to search for. Unattainable and impossible, uncaring and distracted… but he was out there, somewhere. I had to believe that.

The other part was the strange sense of repetition I'd felt at school today, the coincidence of the date. The feeling that I was starting over–perhaps the way my first day would have gone if I'd really been the most unusual person in the cafeteria that afternoon.

"Which would make her want to be reminded of us even more," Carlisle said. "The more normal things become, the more she is likely to try to cling to you."

The words ran through my head, tonelessly, like I was reading them rather than hearing them spoken:

It will be as if I'd never existed.

I was lying to myself by splitting my reason for coming here into just two parts. I didn't want to admit the strongest motivation. Because it was mentally unsound.

The truth was that I wanted to hear his voice again,

Emmett laughed at that.

like I had in the strange delusion Friday night. For that brief moment, when his voice came from some other part of me than my conscious memory, when his voice was perfect and honey smooth rather than the pale echo my memories usually produced, I was able to remember without pain. It hadn't lasted; the pain had caught up with me, as I was sure it would for this fool's errand. But those precious moments when I could hear him again were an irresistible lure. I had to find some way to repeat the experience… or maybe the better word was episode.

"That's right... embrace the insanity," Emmett laughed.

"That's not good for her," Edward frowned.

"It woke her out of her numbness," Alice said shrugging. "It might not exactly be healthy, but at least she's not a zombie."

"You have a point," Edward sighed.

I was hoping that déjà vu was the key.

"Do you think she's right?" Edward asked.

"I don't know," Carlisle said. "The other incident was familiar, but I don't know if that was the key."

"What else could it be?" Edward asked thoughtfully. "Hm... maybe the fear... she was in danger and somehow conjured my voice to try and protect her..."

"That's a good theory," Carlisle smiled.

"Yeah, the only problem is that your voice only seems to be egging her on, not stopping her from doing something dangerous," Emmett laughed.

"Ssssfff..." Edward hissed.

So I was going to his home, a place I hadn't been since my ill-fated birthday party, so many months ago.

The thick, almost jungle-like growth crawled slowly past my windows. The drive wound on and on. I started to go faster, getting edgy. How long had I been driving? Shouldn't I have reached the house yet? The lane was so overgrown that it did not look familiar.

What if I couldn't find it? I shivered. What if there was no tangible proof at all?

"We can't take the house with us," Emmett laughed.

Then there was the break in the trees that I was looking for, only it was not so pronounced as before. The flora here did not wait long to reclaim any land that was left unguarded. The tall ferns had infiltrated the meadow around the house, crowding against the trunks of the cedars, even the wide porch. It was like the lawn had been flooded–waist-high–with green, feathery waves.

And the house was there, but it was not the same. Though nothing had changed on the outside, the emptiness screamed from the blank windows. It was creepy. For the first time since I'd seen the beautiful house, it looked like a fitting haunt for vampires.

Esme paused and sighed at the thought of her lovely home being in that state, before reading again.

I hit the brakes, looking away. I was afraid to go farther.

But nothing happened. No voice in my head.

"Then it must have been the fear or danger that did it," Carlisle deduced.

"Great," Edward groaned; as if she needed any more reasons to do dangerous and reckless things.

So I left the engine running and jumped out into the fern sea. Maybe, like Friday night, if I walked forward…

I approached the barren, vacant face slowly, my truck rumbling out a comforting roar behind me. I stopped when I got to the porch stairs, because there was nothing here. No lingering sense of their presence… of his presence. The house was solidly here, but it meant little. Its concrete reality would not counteract the nothingness of the nightmares.

I didn't go any closer. I didn't want to look in the windows. I wasn't sure which would be harder to see. If the rooms were bare, echoing empty from floor to ceiling, that would certainly hurt. Like my grandmother's funeral, when my mother had insisted that I stay outside during the viewing. She had said that I didn't need to see Gran that way, to remember her that way, rather than alive.

But wouldn't it be worse if there were no change? If the couches sat just as I'd last seen them, the paintings on the walls–worse still, the piano on its low platform?

"Well, I know the paintings wouldn't be there at least," Carlisle said.

"But the rest would likely still be there," Edward said.

It would be second only to the house disappearing all together, to see that there was no physical possession that tied them in any way. That everything remained, untouched and forgotten, behind them.

Just like me.

Edward closed his eyes. His face was as still as a statue, but they could all see the pain there.

I turned my back on the gaping emptiness and hurried to my truck. I nearly ran. I was anxious to be gone, to get back to the human world. I felt hideously empty, and I wanted to see Jacob.

"To get her happy fix," Emmett laughed.

Maybe I was developing a new kind of sickness, another addiction, like the numbness before. I didn't care. I pushed my truck as fast as it would go as I barreled toward my fix.

"See," Emmett smiled.

Jacob was waiting for me. My chest seemed to relax as soon as I saw him, making it easier to breathe.

"Hey, Bella," he called.

I smiled in relief. "Hey, Jacob," I waved at Billy, who was looking out the window.

"Let's get to work," Jacob said in a low but eager voice.

I was somehow able to laugh. "You seriously aren't sick of me yet?" I wondered. He must be starting to ask himself how desperate I was for company.

"Yeah, right," Edward scoffed. "He loves every second he gets to spend with you..." he continued hissing the words.

Jacob led the way around the house to his garage.

"Nope. Not yet."

"Please let me know when I start getting on your nerves. I don't want to be a pain."

"Okay." He laughed, a throaty sound. "I wouldn't hold your breath for that, though."

When I walked into the garage, I was shocked to see the red bike standing up, looking like a motorcycle rather than a pile of jagged metal.

"Jake, you're amazing," I breathed.

"That was pretty fast," Rosalie admitted. "For a human."

He laughed again. "I get obsessive when I have a project." He shrugged. "If I had any brains I'd drag it out a little bit."

"Why?"

"To be with you longer, duh," Emmett said. "Missing the obvious again."

He looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if he hadn't heard my question. Finally, he asked me, "Bella, if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you say?"