unhappy ending

Royal hesitated in the doorway, his breathtaking face unsure.

"Of course," I replied, my voice an octave high with surprise. "Come on in."

I sat up, sliding to the end of the sofa to make room. My stomach twisted nervously as the one Cullen who did not like me moved silently to sit down in the open space. I tried to come up with a reason why he would want to see me, but my mind was a blank on that point.

"Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes?" he asked. "I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?" His eyes shifted to the stripped bed and back to my couch.

"No, I was awake. Sure, we can talk." I wondered if he could hear the alarm in my voice as clearly as I could.

He laughed lightly, and it sounded like a chorus of bells. "He so rarely leaves you alone," he said. "I figured I'd better make the best of this opportunity."

What did he want to say that couldn't be said in front of Edward? My hands twisted and untwisted around the edge of the comforter.

"Please don't think I'm horribly interfering," Royal said, his voice gentle and almost pleading. He folded his arms over his muscular chest and looked down as he spoke. "I'm sure I've hurt your feelings enough in the past, and I don't want to do that again."

"Don't worry about it, Royal. My feelings are great. What is it?"

He laughed again, sounding oddly embarrassed. "I'm going to try and tell you why I think you should stay human—why I would stay human if I were you."

"Oh, well, umm… I mean, I don't have any immediate plans to…" I trailed off.

"I know, Beau." Royal nodded. "However, it is a possibility, correct?"

"I mean, I suppose."

"So, if you ever have to make that decision…"

"Okay, go head."

He smiled and nodded, and then he sighed.

"Did Edward ever tell you what led to this?" he asked, gesturing to his glorious immortal body.

I nodded slowly, suddenly somber. "He said it was close to what happened to me that time in Port Angeles, only no one was there to save you." I shuddered at the memory.

"Is that really all he told you?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, my voice blank with confusion. "Was there more?"

He looked up at me and smiled; it was a harsh, bitter—but still stunning—expression.

"Yes," he said. "There was more."

I waited while he stared out the window. He seemed to be trying to calm himself.

"Would you like to hear my story, Beau? It doesn't have a happy ending—but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now."

I nodded, though I was frightened by the edge in his voice.

"I lived in a different world than you do, Beau. My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was the most handsome boy in town. My life was perfect."

He stared out the window at the silver clouds, his expression far away.

"My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about—he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves.

"It was my mother's job to keep our house—and myself and my two younger sisters—in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations—social climbers, I suppose you could call them. They had high hopes for me—if you couldn't tell by what they named me—and my good looks were like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did. The hoped I would find a rich girl to marry and elevate the family.

"They weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Royal Hale. Pleased that eyes watched me everywhere I went. Delighted that my friends envied my handsome face and my strong physique. Happy that my father was proud of me and that my mother praised me.

"I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted everyone who saw me to think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Beau. I was stupid and shallow, but I was content." He smiled, amused at his own evaluation.

"My parents' influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get these things.

"There was one thing I couldn't have though, Beau. Like I said, it was a different time. Certainly, I could have had my pick of any girl. Obviously, though, I wasn't interested in any of them." He smiled more to himself than to me. "My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. We had been neighbors growing up. She married young, just seventeen. She married a beautiful man in a beautiful public wedding. Something I would never have. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life."

He looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "It was a different time." He said again. "I would have given anything to be like Vera. I wanted my own house and husband who would kiss me when he got home from work—just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind…"

It was hard for me to imagine the world that Royal had known. I had been nervous about Forks being small town, but I walked around holding hands with Edward and no one batted an eye. Royal couldn't have that.

Royal sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was different, the wistfulness gone.

"In Rochester, there was one truly royal family," he smirked. "The Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That's how his son, Royce King the Second"—his mouth twisted around the name, it came out through his teeth—"saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, I accompanied my father since he was pushing for me to get a job at the bank with him. I remember feeling smug, like I was certain I would get it." Royal laughed without humor.

"I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night, he secretly sent a bouquet of roses concealed in a box. My room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.

"Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.

"My parents approved of our friendship—that's all they thought it was. The social connection was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make my dreams come true. Everything I wanted, yet it was a secret from the world.

"We didn't spend a great deal of time with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, but, when we were together, it was wild and passionate. When we were in public I was treated like a prince. There were lots of parties, dancing, champagne. We were rich playboys and every man wanted to be us. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.

"Royce promised me that we would be together forever. Yes, it would be a secret, but we'd always have each other. I loved him, and I thought he loved me."

Royal broke off suddenly, clenching his teeth together. It pulled me out of his story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as he'd promised. I wondered if this was why he had so much more bitterness in him than the rest of them—because he'd been within reach of everything he'd wanted when his human life was cut short.

"I had gone to visit my friend Vera that night," Royal whispered. His face was smooth as marble, and as hard. "She and her husband had just had a little boy—a sweet child with dimples. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. Royce would never do that to me with anyone around, and even in secret, it wasn't quite the same—not so sweet somehow… I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince, after all."

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like his bone white face hot paler.

"It was dark in the streets, the lamps were already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." He continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "It was cold, too. Very cold for late April—I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard… in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely…"

He sighed, and began whispering again. "Yes, I was worrying about the weather… how ridiculous in hindsight…

"I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd left for home sooner. And then he called my name.

"'Roy!' he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly.

"I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons of other rich men.

"'Here's the man!' Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. 'You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long.'"

"I'd never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. He'd told me he didn't like champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger.

"He had a new friend—the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta.

"'Well, there he is, John," Royce grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. 'You can't say I don't have good taste.'

"The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over with disgust in his eyes.

"'You're just lucky you have us here," he drawled slowly. 'So we can set you straight.'

"They laughed, Royce like the rest.

"'You're right, gentlemen,' Royce said, shoving me to the ground. 'Thank god for that.'

"'Let's teach this fairy a lesson,' John drawled at the men.

"One of them grabbed my hair and dragged me along the street, and I tried to be strong but I couldn't help but cry out in pain. They seemed to enjoy that—the sound of my pain…"

Royal looked at me suddenly, as if he'd forgotten I was there. I was sure my face as white as his. Unless it was green.

"I think you can guess what happened," he said quietly. "They beat me, called me names… They left me in the street, still laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. They were teasing Royce that he would have to find some girl to help get all the fairy out of him. He laughed and said they didn't have to worry, he'd never touch a freak like me again.

"I waited in the road to die. It was cold, though there was so much pain that I was surprised it bothered me. It started to snow, and I wondered why I wasn't dying. I was impatient for death to come, to end the pain. It was taking so long…

"Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. I remember being vaguely irritated as he worked over me, trying to save my life. I'd never liked Dr. Cullen or his wife and her brother—as Edward pretended to be then. It had upset me that they were all more beautiful than I was. But they didn't mingle in society, so I'd only seen them once or twice.

"I thought I'd died when he pulled me from the ground and ran with me—because of the speed—it felt like I was flying. I remembered being horrified that the pain didn't stop…

"Then I was in a bright room, and it was warm. I was slipping away, and I was grateful as the pain began to dull. But suddenly something sharp was cutting me, my throat, my wrists, my ankles. I screamed in shock, thinking he'd brought me there to hurt me more. Then the fire started burning through me, and I didn't care about anything else. I begged him to kill me. When Esme and Edward returned home, I begged them to kill me, too. Carlisle sat with me. He held my hand and said that he was so sorry, promising me that it would end. He told me everything, and sometimes I listened. He told me what he was, what I was becoming. I didn't believe him. He apologized each time I screamed.

"Edward wasn't happy. I remember hearing them discuss me. I stopped screaming sometimes. It did no good to scream.

"'What were you thinking, Carlisle?' Edward said. 'Royal Hale?'" Royal imitated Edward's irritated tone to perfection. "I didn't like the way he said my name, like there was something wrong with me.

"'I couldn't just let him die,' Carlisle said quietly. 'It was too much—too horrible, too much waste.'

"'I know,' Edward said, and I thought he sounded dismissive. It angered me. I didn't know then that he really could see exactly what Carlisle had seen.

"'It was too much waste. I couldn't leave him,' Carlisle repeated in a whisper.

"'Of course you couldn't,' Esme agreed.

"'People die all the time,' Edward reminded him in a hard voice. 'Don't you think he's just a little recognizable, though? The Hales will have to put up a huge search, the Kings might, as well—not that anyone suspects the fiend,' he growled.

"It pleased me that they seemed to know that Royce was guilty.

"I didn't realize that it was almost over—that I was getting stronger and that was why I was able to concentrate on what they were saying. The pain was beginning to fade from my fingertips.

"'What are we going to do with him?' Edward said disgustedly—or that's how it sounded to me, at least.

"Carlisle sighed. 'That's up to him, of course. He may want to go his own way.'

"I'd believed enough of what he'd told me that his words terrified me. I knew that my life was ended, and there was no going back for me. I couldn't stand the thought of being alone…

"The pain finally ended and they explained to me again what I was. This time I believed. I felt the thirst, my hard skin; I saw my brilliant red eyes.

"Shallow as I was, I felt better when I saw my reflection in the mirror for the first time. Despite the eyes, I was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." He laughed at himself for a moment. "Maybe if I hadn't been so vapid and shallow, I would have been more careful. Maybe I would have been smarter about everything if I hadn't been so stupid. Perhaps I could have had a life like Vera. That's all I really wanted. It still doesn't seem like too much to have asked for."

He was thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if he'd forgotten my presence again. But then he smiled at me, his expression suddenly triumphant.

"You know, my record is almost as clean as Carlisle's," he told me. "better than Esme. A thousand times better than Edward. I've never tasted human blood," he announced proudly.

He understood my puzzled expression as I wondered why his record was only almost as clean.

"I did murder five humans," he told me in a complacent tone. "If you can really call them human. But I was very careful not to spill their blood—I knew I wouldn't be able to resist that, and I didn't want any part of them in me, you see.

"I saved Royce for last. I hoped he would hear of his friends' deaths and understand, know what was coming for him. I hoped the fear would make the end worse for him. I think it worked. He was hiding inside a windowless room behind a door as thick as a bank vault's, guarded outside by armed men, when I caught up with him. Oh—seven murders," he corrected himself. "I forgot about his guards. They only took a second."

"I was overly theatrical. It was kind of childish, really. I wore the clothes they had attacked me in. He screamed when he saw me standing there, covered in my blood stained clothes with brilliant red eyes. He screamed a lot that night. Saving him for last was a good idea—it made it easier for me to control myself, to make it slower—"

He broke off suddenly, and he glanced down at me. "I'm sorry," he said in a chagrined voice. "I'm frightening you, aren't I?"

"I'm fine," I lied.

"I got carried away."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm surprised Edward didn't tell you more about it."

"He doesn't like to tell other people's stories—he feels like he's betraying confidences, because he hears so much more than just the parts they mean for him to hear."

Royal smiled and shook his head. "I probably ought to give him more credit. He's really quite decent, isn't he?"

"I think so."

"I can tell," Then he sighed. "I haven't been fair to you, either, Beau. Did he tell you why? Or was that too confidential?"

"He said it was because I was human. He said it was harder for you to have someone on the outside who knew."

Royal's musical laughter interrupted me. "Now I really feel guilty. He's been much, much kinder to me than I deserve." He seemed warmer as he laughed, he'd let down some guard that had never been absent in my presence before. "What a liar that boy is." He laughed again.

"He was lying?" I asked, suddenly wary.

"Well, that's probably putting it too strongly. He just didn't tell you the whole story. What he told you was true, even truer now than it was before. However, at the time…" He broke off, chuckling nervously. "It's embarrassing. You see, at first, I was mostly jealous because he wanted you and not me."

His words sent a thrill of fear through me. Sitting there in the silver light, he was more beautiful than anything else I could imagine. I could not compete with Royal.

"But you love Emmett…," I mumbled.

He shook his head back and forth, amused. "I don't want Edward that way, Beau. I never did—I love him as a brother, but he's irritated me from the first moment I heard him speak. You have to understand, though… I was so used to people wanting me. And Edward wasn't the least bit interested. It frustrated me, even offended me in the beginning. But he never wanted anyone, so it didn't bother me long. Even when we first met Taras's clan in Denali—all those beauties!—Edward never showed the slightest preference. And then he met you." He looked at me with confused eyes. I was only half paying attention. I was thinking about Edward and Taras and all those beauties, and my lips pressed together in a hard line.

"Not that you aren't very handsome, Beau," he said, misreading my expression. "But it just meant that he found you more attractive than me. I'm vain enough that I minded."

"But you said 'at first.' That doesn't still… bother you, does it? I mean, we both know you're the most beautiful person on the planet."

I laughed at having to say the words—it was so obvious. How odd that Royal should need such reassurances.

Royal laughed, too. "Thanks, Beau. And no, it doesn't really bother me anymore. Edward has always been a little strange." He laughed again.

"But you still don't like me," I whispered.

His smile faded. "I don't dislike you, Beau."

We sat in silence for a moment, and he didn't seem inclined to go on.

"Would you tell me what the problem is? Did I do something…?" Was he angry that I'd put his family—his Emmett—in danger? Time and time again. James, and now Victor, the Volturi…

"No, you haven't done anything," he murmured. "Not intentionally."

I stared at him, perplexed.

"Don't you see, Beau?" His voice was suddenly more passionate than before, even while he'd told his unhappy story. "You already have everything. You have a whole life ahead of you—everything I want. And you'd just throw it away." His voice became sad. "You can have a boyfriend, you can go out and hold hands with him, something I couldn't have when I was human. Can't you see I'd trade everything I have to be you? You have the choice I didn't have, and you're choosing wrong!"

He stared at me for a long moment, and slowly, the fervor in his eyes dimmed. Abruptly, he was abashed.

"And I was so sure I could do this calmly." He shook his head, seeming a little dazed by the flood of emotion. "It's just that it's harder now than it was then, when it was no more than vanity."

He stared at the moon in silence. It was a few moments before I was brave enough to break into his reverie.

"Would you like me better if I choose to stay human?"

He turned back to me, his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. "Maybe."

"You did get some of your happy ending, though," I reminded him. "You got Emmett."

"I got half." He grinned. "You know that I saved Emmett from a bear that was mauling him, and carried him home to Carlisle. I still don't know why I stopped that bear from eating him. After all, I knew nothing about Emmett. I didn't know if he would love me. But with his dark curls, the dimples that showed even while he was grimacing in pain, the strange innocence that seemed so out of place on a grown man's face… I knew I loved him. I didn't want him to die—so much that, even though I hated this life, I was selfish enough to ask Carlisle to change him for me.

"I got luckier than I deserved. Emmett is everything I would have asked for if I'd known myself well enough to know what to ask for. He's exactly the kind of person someone like me needs. And, oddly enough, he needs me, too. That part worked out better than I could have hoped."

He stopped, and sighed. "But we'll always be this. Frozen in time. Never changing. I daydream, sometimes, about sitting on a porch somewhere, with him gray-haired by my side… But we'll never have that."

His smile was kind now. "That sounds quite bizarre to you, doesn't it? In some ways, you are much more mature than I was at eighteen. But in other ways… there are many things you've probably never thought about seriously. You're too young to know what you'll want in ten years, fifteen years—and too young to give it all up without thinking it through. You don't want to be rash about permanent things, Beau." He patted my head, but the gesture didn't feel condescending.

"Just think about it a little. Once it's done, it can't be undone. Esme and Carlisle have made do with us as substitutes, Jasper and Emmett are content enough, and Alice doesn't remember anything about being human so she can't miss it… You will remember, though. It's a lot to give up."

"Thank you, Royal." I finally said. "It's nice to understand… to know you better."

"I apologize for being such a monster." He grinned. "I'll try to behave myself from now on."

I grinned back at him.

We weren't best friends or anything, but I was pretty sure we were maybe better than we were before.

"I'll let you sleep now." Royal's eyes flickered to the bed, and his lips twitched. "I know you're frustrated that he's keeping you locked up like this, but don't give him too bad a time when he gets back. He loves you more than you know. It terrifies him to be away from you." He got up silently and ghosted to the door. "Goodnight, Beau," he whispered as he shut the door.

"Goodnight, Royal," I murmured a second too late.

It took me a long time to fall asleep after that.

When I did sleep, I had a nightmare. I was crawling across the dark, cold stones of an unfamiliar street, under lightly falling snow, leaving a trail of blood smeared behind me. A shadowy angel in white watched my progress with resentful eyes.

The next morning, Alice drove me to school while I stared grumpily out the windshield. I was feeling sleep-deprived, and it made the irritation of my imprisonment that much stronger.

"Tonight we'll go out to Olympia or something," she promised. "That would be fun, right?"

"Why don't you just lock me in the basement," I suggested, "and forget the sugar coating?"

Alice frowned. "He's going to take the Porsche back. I'm not doing a very good job. You're supposed to be having fun."

"It's not your fault," I muttered. I couldn't believe I actually felt guilty. "I'll see you at lunch."

I trudged off to English. Without Edward, the day would be more monotonous than usual. I sulked through my first class, well aware that my attitude wasn't helping anything.

When the bell rang, I got up without much enthusiasm. Mike was there at the door, holding it open for me.

"Edward hiking this weekend?" he asked sociably as we walked out into the light rain.

"Yeah."

"You want to do something tonight?"

How could he still sound hopeful?

"Can't. I've got a slumber party," I grumbled. He gave me a strange look as he processed my mood.

"Who are you—"

Mike's question was cut short as a loud, growling roar erupted from behind us in the parking lot. Everyone on the sidewalk turned to look, staring in disbelief as the noisy black motorcycle screeched to a stop on the edge of the concrete, the engine still snarling.

Jacob waved to me urgently.

"Run, Beau!" he yelled over the engine's roar.

I was frozen for a second before I understood.

I looked at Mike quickly. I knew I only had seconds.

How far would Alice go to restrain me in public?

"I got really sick and went home, okay?" I said to Mike, my voice filled with sudden excitement.

"Fine," he muttered.

I pecked Mike swiftly on the cheek. "Thanks, Mike. I owe you one!" I called as I sprinted away.

Jacob revved his engine, grinning. I jumped on the back of his seat, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

I caught sight of Alice, frozen at the edge of the cafeteria, her eyes sparkling with fury, her lip curled back over her teeth.

I shot her one pleading glance.

Then we were racing across the blacktop so fast that my stomach got lost somewhere behind me.

"Hold on," Jacob shouted.

I hid my face in his back as he sped down the highway. I knew he would slow down when we hit the Quileute border. I just had to hold on till ten. I prayed silently and fervently that Alice wouldn't follow, and that Charlie wouldn't happen to see me…

It was obvious when we had reached the safe zone. The bike slowed, and Jacob straightened up and howled with laughter. I opened my eyes.

"We made it," he shouted. "Not bad for a prison break, eh?"

"Good thinking, Jake."

"I remembered what you said about the psychic one not being able to predict what I'm going to do. I'm glad you didn't think of this—she wouldn't have let you go to school."

"That's why I didn't consider it."

He laughed triumphantly. "What do you want to do today?"

"Anything!" I laughed back. It felt great to be free.