A/N: So, this is something I've been thinking over for awhile—and quite honestly, have been quite baffled over. A huge part of me was upset that we missed Bella's perspective on her entire pregnancy. Maybe it's because I'm a mom, and I cherished those moments (the good and the bad, the gifts and the losses) no matter what they looked like. I realize SM probably had the second book in Jacob's perspective so we could get the whole imprinting thing, but I don't know. I've looked and looked, read and read more 'Book 2' ff's, but none of them ever held the degree of accuracy I had imagined in my mind.

So I figured, if I was going to be so judgmental and perfectionistic about it, why don't I just write it myself?

This one-shot is what most likely happened upon Bella and Edward's honeymoon home-coming. I may expand on it later, but not until I'm done with Daybreak. So for now, this is all ya get ;)

DISCLAIMER: The characters are not mine, they belong to the amazing and talented Stephenie Meyer. Some of the dialogue is based off another fic I honestly don't know the name of (it's not on fanfiction) so I can't give proper credit, but nevertheless, it's due. REGARDLESS, this is a general disclaimer. It's safe to say I don't own anything! Just my own ideas!

…

The trip home passed in strange lurches and drags—whole bits deleted completely by my unending fatigue. While I was not sleeping, or staring out the window, I was throwing up.

Edward pushed both fluids and food on me at every opportunity, but the two were quickly becoming less and less desirable. My insides were ensnared in a vicious knot of turmoil, anxiety, pain and indecision; and nausea, always the nausea.

I loved them both so much—both Edward and the sweet, innocent baby that lived inside me. But it was clear Edward hated him, and as frightened as I was of this mysterious outcome, I could not give the baby up.

I loved this child with a love so completely all-consuming, it was unreal. I would do anything, anything for him. There was a strange peace, in that aspect. I would do whatever it took to protect the child growing within me. I had Rosalie on my side. We would figure something out—something that appeased both mine and Edward's desires.

I had always been strong—stronger than the supernatural obstacles life threw at me. I would overcome this, too.

Warily, I tore my gaze away from the black night and turned to stare up into Edward's face. He was already gazing down at me, his topaz eyes a whirl of torment and agony. I had known he would put this entirely on himself; I had known he would blame himself, and jump to the worst conclusions.

But what if this wasn't as bad as he was making it seem? What if this was a beautiful blessing, a miraculous gift I had never known I'd wanted until now? I wished he could see past the insignificant blind spots of the unknown, and begin to rejoice in the pregnancy the way I was doing. I was going to hold on to this precious, unexpected gift for as long as I could.

Now, I rested my head on his cool, marble shoulder—which relieved some of the nausea—and brushed my hand over his forearm. Being airborne seemed to make the sickness worse, and Edward was sure to always have disposable bags on hand. The unused one I had now was clutched between my thigh and the armrest.

But more important in this moment than the queasiness, was to ease my husband's anxieties. I knew I couldn't make him see things from my perspective—Edward was stubborn in that way—but I could try to comfort him as best I knew how. I lifted my free hand to his neck, cool and unyielding against my palm. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around me.

But he mistook my attempt to comfort him for an extension of fear, reaching out for comfort of my own.

"Don't worry," he murmured softly in my ear, so that only I could hear, "We're going to take care of this." He smoothed his hand up my spine, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the words. His voice was raw with anguish, a strange note of metallic edge to it.

I didn't want to hear those words. I didn't want him taking my baby from me. Automatically, I was pulling away, turning my face to the window so he wouldn't be able to see the emotion in my eyes.

For the first time in my life, I was frightened of my husband. I was frightened, because I held something so precious inside of me, and he was eons stronger than me, able to overtake me with, probably, the minimal of effort. Would he take matters into his own hands? Yes, I knew that he would. If it were in the name of protecting me, of course he would. He'd hurt me before, in order to protect me from danger. I was helpless to protect the small being in my womb, which was why we needed to get home, so that I could be with Rosalie, who had promised, immediately, to help me.

I knew her motives were not entirely for the sake of my own protection. I had known that when I'd called her. I could only hope that her formerly unmet motherly instincts would be fierce enough to protect my baby for me.

It's okay, little nudger, I thought soothingly, dropping my hand to press it against the small, hard bump underneath my shirt, It'll be okay. You're safe.

I leaned back against my seat, and awaited touchdown.

.

When we landed, the anxiety grew tenfold.

The time had come for me to betray my husband—I could not find a way to put the situation in a softer light. I was like Judas, delivering the kiss of death, pledging my allegiance to the opposing side.

But how could they not see how much more important this was—more than a leather satchel of silver coins, more than all the gold in the world? This was my baby, the result of the pure love and light shared between Edward and I.

Though I had heard Kaure's words on the island, her delivering verdict—morte—I could not bring myself to be afraid, not yet. When had anything else been worth dying for more? I had already gotten so much in these short eighteen years of life. I had met Edward, I had fallen deeply in love with him, I had made friends and extended family no one else would ever have been able to replace. I had found a second home with Edward's family. I had found Jacob, and the strength of our friendship—though I passed over this success quickly, as my betrayal to him still caused too much pain—I had been able to pledge to my family and friends that I chose Edward above all else, forsaking all else. I had been able to experience the most wonderful honeymoon I ever would have been able to imagine for myself—to truly discover how deep and wide our passion for each other could go. I doubted many humans had lived a better life than I had in my short years. So it was not reasonable to grieve. Life had given me so much more than I had expected to deserve.

Why should I have more time on top of all the unwarranted remunerations? It seemed implausible.

Acceptance swept over me, sure and swift, as we disembarked the plane and made our way up the gangway, to find our family in the throng. Edward's hands never left me. He was treating me as if I had become impossibly more delicate in the past however many hours it had taken for us to return home.

When we reached the terminal, Edward folded his arm around me. As much as it pained me to do it, I shrugged him off. I couldn't have him touching me when he finally read Rosalie's thoughts. I needed to get to her before our cover was blown. I trusted in her, to think of anything and everything else as long as it took me to reach her—as she'd promised she would. But I couldn't have more obstacles in my way.

I wore comfortable Keds and flexible clothing. That was another advantage.

Another, the lack of baggage weighing me down. Edward had insisted on holding my carry-on bag—as if another ten pounds would cause me great harm.

He led me toward where his family must have been waiting in the bustling crowds. I couldn't see them yet, though I strained for a glimpse of the familiar, beautiful blonde who was now my only hope in saving my child's life.

I could feel my body responding to the anxiety of the coming moment. Both my breathing and my heart rate picked up. I could only hope Edward would brush it off as something inconsequential.

He paused then, pulling me easily to a stop. He rotated my shoulders so that I was facing him, and pulled both my hands into his, between us. His eyes hovered somewhere between the familiar tenderness from just a day ago, and the quickly spiraling agony of self-blame and remorse.

I couldn't resist the urge to comfort him once more, and he let me pull my hands from his so I could reach up to cradle his face. He gazed down at me with such torment that guilt twisted in my stomach.

"Edward, I…" I began, but trailed off, unsure. I grappled once more with my decision. Were there any words that would change his mind? I knew, that once I made my choice, the lines would be drawn. Each member of his family would take their stance. Some small part of me hoped, once he saw how passionately I wanted this, that he would side with me. But the bigger part in my mind knew that he wouldn't.

"It's okay, love," he murmured, "In a few hours, this will all be a bad dream."

Shock drilled through me like an ice pick. No. I had known where his loyalties laid, I shouldn't have thought otherwise. I closed my eyes and turned my face away before he could see the defiant rebellion that would assuredly rise there. I would not show him my fierce protectiveness. It would undoubtedly give me away, and I couldn't have that. Not yet.

"Let's go," I said, trying to keep my voice normal sounding, but I could hear the hoarseness in my tone. I only hoped he would chalk it up to apprehension over the pregnancy. It wasn't on my radar, however. I wasn't afraid of the innocent baby. I was apprehensive of the men who wanted to destroy him.

I turned away from Edward then, striding toward where I knew his family would be waiting, though I couldn't see them yet.

We wove our way through the crowd, Edward's hand sliding into mine, and I moved faster now, knowing she was close, in a rush to get to her now.

I saw Carlisle's face first, wrought with tension and anxiety. His eyes locked with Edward's, and I recognized his intense, concentrated expression immediately. I took advantage of Edward's inattention—reading Carlisle's thoughts, no doubt—and broke my hold. He didn't hold me tightly.

I lurched forward, tripping once, but kept going, prepared to feel his arms lock around my waist from behind. Would he stop me, here, in the airport? The way I staggered toward Rosalie, no one would suspect anything out of the norm. A tender duo of sisters or friends, greeting each other after a long time apart.

But as I raced across the small expanse of space between us, I knew better, and the emotion caught up to me.

By the time I was in Rosalie's open arms, I was sobbing. Copious feelings crashed over me, rampaging through my mind too quickly to process fully. Relief, anxiety, fear, heartbreak, love, gratefulness, desperation, guilt… It all overwhelmed me, and I was sure being pregnant didn't help my emotional stability.

Safe, I was safe here in Rose's arms, and all the tension I'd been holding in my shoulders released in one great gust.

One second later, Edward was there beside us, his hands on my shoulders.

"Let her go, Rose," he snarled, his voice like acid.

Rosalie didn't say anything, but she also didn't release me, from where her arms were locked around me, vise like. Unbreakable.

"I'm not going to let you act out your sick fantasies on my wife," he snapped.

So obviously, her thoughts were centered more around the safety of the baby, than my own. But that was fine with me. I felt the same way, and I did not hold any resentment against her for it.

I gazed up at Edward, his beautiful angel's face blurry through the sheen of tears, as he stared at Rosalie. I waited a moment, and when his gaze dropped to mine, understanding rose in his eyes.

"What's going on?" This was Carlisle, and he stepped over to join our closely huddled crowd, followed immediately by Emmett, who put a protective arm around Rosalie, around me, around the baby.

I had, of course, suspected he would take our side, but I had not allowed my hopes to get the best of me. The gratefulness I felt toward Emmett in this moment made my knees weak, and I was glad that Rosalie was holding me up.

Rosalie turned her icy glare to Carlisle's face. It pained me to see her do so, to direct such ire toward her father, her creator, but he had taken the same stand on the pregnancy as Edward had, and I could not let them hurt him.

"No one is going to hurt this baby," Rosalie hissed, echoing my own thoughts.

First shock, and then horror, melted the confusion from Carlisle's face. Behind him, Alice moaned quietly, and for the first time I saw her. Jasper's arms were around her, and she had her fingers pressed to her temples, as if suffering from some sort of migraine. I could only guess that what she saw in her visions was unsavory—Rosalie's resolve probably firming up the inevitability of my fate.

But I couldn't bring myself to be concerned about that, because what ultimately happened to me did not matter. What mattered was the life of the tiny child inside me. I called to mind my predicted images… A miniature version of Edward, with his beautiful jeweled human eyes…

"Bella, sweetheart. Love. Let go of her. Come to me." Edward's voice was low and smooth, seductively velvet, and I wanted to obey his words. I wanted to press my face into his chest and allow his arms to wrap around me. But he wanted to kill my baby. Indecision dueled inside me, pulling me first one way, and then the other.

It pained me immensely to realize that I could not trust him in this moment. I turned my eyes to Rosalie's face, knowing I could trust her judgment. She shook her head slightly, and my heart fell. No. I could not go to him.

The resolve replaced itself firmly inside my chest. I was strong enough to endure this brief separation. I would do it for my baby.

I shook my head at him.

"Bella," he protested. His hand dropped somewhere near my waist, gripping Rosalie's wrist in his hand. She hissed menacingly at him, and Emmett took a threatening step forward. His eyes, too, were filled with resolve. He would not let anyone hurt Rose, and Rose would not let anyone hurt my baby. It was a win-win situation.

Then Carlisle was there, hands on each of their shoulders, breaking up the pre-scuffle. "Stop it," he ordered quietly, "Not here."

Edward released her hand, and I felt it wrap back around me reflexively, like a rubber band snapping back into place.

"Bella?" His voice trembled, and I could not resist lifting my eyes to his face once more. His eyes were clear and wide, beseeching, and the emotion I saw there tore at my insides. How it pained me to betray him like this. But I had to do what was best for the baby, to ensure its survival.

"Edward," I pleaded, "I want to keep this baby. When I heard what you and Carlisle were planning, I didn't know if you would listen to me, let me explain, if I could stop you. So I called Rosalie." Unable to look him in the eye any longer, I dropped my gaze to the floor.

Not only had Rosalie and Emmett made their opinions clear; now I had made mine, too.

"Let's discuss this at home," Carlisle murmured quietly.

Rosalie turned our bodies the other way, releasing me with one arm, keeping the other one tucked securely over my shoulders. We started walking toward baggage claim. Edward stayed close to my side, Emmett at Rosalie's. He threw occasional glances over our heads to check on Edward, probably wondering if he would attempt to steal me away.

The rest of his family followed closely behind, and we drew the occasional glance, grouped together so closely this way, but my sister-in-law and husband astutely ignored these looks, and carried on.

When we reached the vehicles—Edward's Volvo, and the Mercedes—Edward attempted to take me by the hand, presumably to tug me toward the Volvo.

"You're getting in a car with her over my dead body," Rosalie hissed over my head, unwilling to release her grip from around my shoulders—something I was grateful for.

"That's the plan," was Edward's menacing response. From where he stood so close to me, I could feel the rumble of a growl building in his chest.

"No, Edward," I insisted, "I think it's best if I ride with Rosalie."

I felt, rather than saw, Edward turn his eyes on me—sure that his shocked expression would have wounded me. I kept my eyes carefully averted to avoid the unnecessary jolt of anguish. I didn't want any more reason than I already had to feel horrible over betraying my husband in this way.

Thankfully, before he could say anything else, Rosalie guided me over to Carlisle's car.

I spent most of the ride home in tears. Rosalie's soft-spoken assurances were of no use. Nothing could touch the guilt or the shame I felt in betraying Edward.

We got home before they did, and we were on the porch waiting for them when the Volvo pulled in.

I didn't see Edward surge toward us—the movement was much too fast to discern. Only the thunderous sound of granite against granite told me what was happening. Emmett had cut Edward off just feet from where Rose and I were standing, their arms locked together, snarling teeth inches from each other's faces, territorial growls issuing from their throats.

"Stop it!" I screamed, the words ripping through my throat roughly, and laden with tears.

I was horrified, terrified, to see the trouble I'd caused my family. But how was I to stop it? I was unwilling to give my husband and father-in-law what they wanted. I could see no way to resolve the dispute.

"Quit it, Emmett," Edward barked sharply, not backing down, "I just want to talk to Bella alone."

Neither of them moved, but after a brief moment, I thought I saw Edward's stance relax. But I couldn't be sure, because in the next minute, Emmett had shoved hard against his chest, and Edward was flying backwards off the porch, sailing through the air and smashing into the car, shattering one of the windows.

"Edward!" The terror ripped from my throat. I couldn't help my horror-struck reaction. As if in conjunction with my thoughts, the baby moved inside me, poking softly.

It's okay, he's okay, I thought, running a palm soothingly over the crest of my tiny belly.

And of course he was. He was already standing, but made no move to re-approach us. Emmett did not back down from his protective stance.

I was sure Edward's intentions were pure—he would not harm me—but I couldn't be sure whether his desires to purely speak to me were true or not. Was it just another ploy to get me alone so he and Carlisle could take action against the baby?

I hated to doubt him in this way, but then, I had never thought him capable of hating something we'd created out of our own union.

Carlisle was in front of Emmett now, convincing him to go inside. We all moved that way together.

Unanimously, we walked together into the dining room. Rose sat at the foot of the table, pulling me into her lap immediately. I watched with wary eyes as the battle lines were drawn. Carlisle went to sit on the opposite side of the table from us, Esme sitting beside him. Alice next to her, still withdrawn and pain-stricken—I was alarmed at the amount of excruciating pain she seemed to be in—Jasper going to stand behind her, hands on her shoulders, rubbing softly, soothingly. Emmett stood behind us, and Edward paused somewhere in between, for merely half a second. And then he went to stand by his father.

My stomach clenched and twisted sickeningly, but it had nothing to do with the morning sickness.

How had it come to this? Why couldn't they understand my viewpoint, as Rosalie did? Couldn't they see this wasn't a choice anymore—from the moment I'd felt that first, tiny flutter, all choice had been removed.

I could not risk the life of this tiny, precious soul. I would not. How could they see such evilness in something that had only been created out of love?

"Okay—what is this?" Carlisle began once everyone was seated.

"I—we… Are not going to let you kill this baby," Rosalie barked.

"What is your role in this, Rosalie?" Carlisle inquired. I had never seen him like this before—the topaz in his eyes were pure jewels, hard and reflective. I could see that he was as firm in his resolve as I was in mine, and I could not let myself be swayed.

It was difficult to imagine a world where Carlisle was wrong—he had always been filled with such compassion, and a desire to pursue only what was righteous and true. But somewhere along the line, he'd gotten this wrong.

I was aware of the risk I was taking—but hadn't Carlisle taken risks himself, in order to save what he loved most? For a brief second, I could not comprehend his opinion on the matter.

"This is about Bella and Edward," Carlisle continued now, eyes leveled on Rosalie's face, "It does not involve you."

"The hell it doesn't! Bella called me. She called and asked me to help protect the baby from you. Both of you." She turned her glare on my husband, whose face was completely impassive. I stared up into his eyes, willing him to look at me, but cold droplets of icy dread slid through me at the expression on his face. He was the ice sculpture once more, stoic and aloof.

Esme gasped quietly.

"I know how you and Edward feel, and I don't know how far you'll go to achieve it. So I'm sticking with Bella, every minute, to help her through it and keep them both safe." Rosalie's gaze dropped from my face to the small, round bump protruding from between my hips, mostly hidden underneath the thin muslin shirt I'd worn on the plane.

It had been warm, hot even, in Brazil—but here, now, sitting on Rosalie's icy lap, I was beginning to feel cold.

I fixed my eyes on Edward's face.

I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so, so sorry.

Carlisle and Rosalie were quiet for a long moment, and then he sighed. I felt his eyes on my face then, though I did not look away from Edward.

"Bella," he said, "Don't be afraid. We'll do everything we can to keep you safe and healthy when we remove the… fetus. I can go over the procedure with you if—" But he didn't understand.

"No," I interrupted, a strange sort of strangled gasp as I tore my gaze from Edward's face and refocused on Carlisle's. His was filled with compassion and kindness, and while looking at him, it was difficult to remember that he was not on my side. "You don't understand," I told him, "I'm not afraid. I don't want you to take this baby away from me."

I looked at Edward again, beseeching him to understand, but he was resolute where he stood. He did not move.

"Oh, Bella," Carlisle sighed softly, "I have to tell you. You must understand. Carrying this fetus will most likely kill you. I'm so sorry, but this is the only way."

No. It was not the only way. Who was to say that the Ticuna legends were just that—legends? Granted, I did not have very much luck in debunking the so-called 'stories' of the supernatural world, but I believed with enough conviction, regardless, for the both of us. I would survive this, despite what the Brazilian woman had said—if the stories happened to be true. I had faced death enough times to overcome this, too.

I was shaking my head fiercely. "No," I argued, "We don't know that. Why do you say that? This is our baby—Edward's and mine. We made it, and I won't let you hurt him."

Carlisle shot Edward an alarmed glance, and I watched him take a breath, breaking the stillness of his posture.

"Bella, angel," he pleaded, his voice soft and velvety, and oh-so-irresistible. "This… fetus… is not supposed to be in your body. We don't know what it will be like, what if might be doing to you right now." As he said those words, the baby bumped me softly from inside, and reflexively, one of my hands went to rest over my womb protectively. "What I heard on the island, is that it will be strong—it will hurt you." Then his voice dropped to barely a breath, his tone agonized, beseeching, his eyes burning with molten honey. "It will kill you."

Something in my face alarmed him—the panic grew incrementally in his eyes. But I couldn't bring myself to believe his words—not because I didn't believe they could be true, but because I knew myself. I knew my own strength, my own determination, my own resolve. I could handle this.

"Yes, Bella," Carlisle urged now, "We can't protect you from something we know so little about. Clearly, it's growing fast—too fast. We have to act quickly."

"Just superstitions… I will do anything to protect him."

"Even kill yourself?" Edward snarled, and I flinched at the malice in his voice.

When I leveled my eyes with his, his expression didn't change for a long moment. But when I stayed quiet, rending my answer that way, his face fell so quickly and so severely, it alarmed me. I had never seen such an agonized expression on his face—not in the ballet studio when he'd saved me from James, when he thought I'd been lost; not in Italy, under the torture of Jane's gift. I had never seen him like this—it was like he was on fire.

I felt the blood drain from my face at the sight of it.

"Bella, listen to Carlisle," Alice begged, speaking for the first time. Her voice was broken and quiet. This pained me, to know that my best friend would not support me through this—one of the most trying times of my life, yes, but when had my life been anything but? More than that, this was a time of deep joy, and gratitude. I had been given a gift so far beyond anything I could have imagined—a tiny, miniature Edward to hold—and so few people could share in this anticipation with me.

It twisted a dagger in my heart.

I was aware of the dangers, I was aware of the risk. But they could not understand the ferocity of my love for the tiny being inside me. I would do anything—even die, if it came to that, but I believed it wouldn't—if it meant he would live. And though I knew Edward's life was tied to mine an inexplicable way, that he would want to follow if I left, I could not bring myself to change my mind.

I loved them both. I wanted—no, needed them both like I needed oxygen to pump my heart and lungs. But I could not sacrifice one for the other. I had to believe there was a part of Edward that loved this baby as much as I did. How could he not see how perfect our little nudger already was?

I'd read somewhere that a woman becomes a mother when she discovers she's pregnant. So far, that had held true. I could only hope that the other part of the adage did as well—that a man became a father when he saw his baby.

If we could just get to that point, maybe he would see that this baby was worth fighting for, worth living for.

Part of my mind shied away from the black possibility—that I would not make it. More of my determination stood resolute in the willpower to fight my way through this and come out on the other side.

I could endure this—I would hold strong until the baby was big enough to live outside of me; and when it was over, we would all have forever together. I had to believe that.

There was no other option. And when there is no other option, you do what you can with what you have left.

I shook my head slowly, determined. "I can do this."

There was another brief pause, and some sort of exchange between Edward, Jasper and Alice. Behind the chair, I heard Emmett shift, and Rosalie tightened her hold around me.

And then Esme drew in a sharp breath, and my eyes flickered to her face. Edward gripped the back of his chair, bowing his head and shoulders as if whatever he had read in Esme's mind caused him great pain.

But when she spoke, a completely different kind of sensation filled me: an anesthetic for the anxiety and fear of the unknown. Her words soothed me.

"She loves him," she breathed, "I see now. She loves this baby."

Abruptly, I was overwhelmed with emotion once more, and the silent, strange tears washed my cheeks.

"I do," I murmured softly.

Esme's decision had changed everything—I didn't need to be a psychic or a mind-reader to see that. As she stood and rested a hand against Carlisle's arm, my plan seemed firmer than ever.

Carlisle would not go against Esme—and if Carlisle's mind had been changed, Edward's plan could not come to fruition. I felt horrible about the joy that pummeled through me at this thought—I didn't want to fight my husband, but I had to protect my baby.

"You can't do this, Carlisle," she murmured, eyes locked on his. His face was confused and drawn, but Esme's eyes were firm, resolute. "You can't take away this baby. She wants him. She loves him. It's her choice."

She came to stand by us, resting a cool, comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her, hoping my expression would be enough to convey the words that would not be enough.

Gratitude, stronger than I could say, filled my heart.

I heard Carlisle exhale heavily, and I knew in this moment that we'd won.

It's going to be okay now, I thought toward the bump, pressing my fingers against the rock hard protrusion. My baby prodded my hand tentatively, as if wondering if it was okay to come out from hiding now. I knew that was impossible, that the baby could not be developed enough to form coherent thoughts, but he was at least responsive, and I felt a burst of tenderness toward the small child curled up in my womb. It's alright now, little one. You're safe. I won't let anybody hurt you.

Edward moved toward us slowly, and then Emmett was there, blocking my view, the muscles in his back tight with rigid defensiveness.

"I just want to talk to her," I heard Edward murmur, and his voice held no inflection, no emotion.

"You can talk to her just fine from over there," Rosalie snapped.

But he ignored her, and continued forward. Emmett let him edge passed, and I heard a small noise of disgust exit Rosalie's throat.

"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to, Bella," she murmured lowly in my ear.

"No, Rosalie, of course I want to talk to him," I insisted, surprised that she would think otherwise. I turned my gaze on my husband who continued forward slowly until he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I loved Edward with an all-consuming, fierce kind of love. Despite our division and our obvious disagreement, that would never change.

"But please don't let me go, Rose."

I loved him, yes, but I didn't know if I trusted him enough to be without my baby's protector in this instant. The thought was sobering. There had never been a time where I had not been unafraid or trustful of Edward—even as the reflexive nature of his species stared me directly in the fact. He was good, unerringly so, and I had always believed that to be of more importance to him—the drive to rise above what he so despised about himself.

But now, it was clear that he would do what he could to keep me safe, and to keep me alive. I did not put an ambush above him. I knew his motives, I understood them, of course I did. He had always been my protector, had always strived to preserve my human life in any way he knew he could. Of course he would react like this—it was ludicrous to think otherwise.

However, Edward had a tendency to overreact, and this was one of those cases.

Edward held out his hand to me, and I pulled mine from Rosalie's grasp, putting my fingers in his. He squeezed softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand tenderly. His eyes were a shade softer now, but his face still could have been carved from marble.

"Can't we speak alone, love? Just for a moment?" he pleaded, and I faltered, just for a moment.

"No, Edward," I finally mumbled, unable to meet his eyes, "Not right now."

I hated to deny him this, I really did.

"I'm so sorry." The emotion choked me, and hot tears sprung to my eyes. The guilt, the shame, the pain of the entire situation crashed over me anew.

"Don't do this, Bella. It's too dangerous."

I could see there would be no convincing him—but I decided to try one last time. I lifted my hand to caress the planes of his perfect face.

"I love you, Edward. And now I love him, too. He's yours and mine, part of us. I want him."

A small smile rose unbidden to my lips, the image of the tiny, pretty baby coming to mind once more. In my head, I could see it, the beautiful green eyes, soft porcelain skin—an exact replica of his father, unmarred by my imperfections.

Edward's eyes flared and then melted, and his brow knit, tortured. "Bella, it will kill you." His voice was rough with emotion. "Don't take yourself away from me. I can't live without you. There is no me—I don't exist without you."

I had never been one to believe in miracles of the divine intervention. But it was impossible to face that possibility down, now, with any sort of reprehension. What could this be—other than a miracle? I could not explain it—I could not explain the deep, unbinding joy I felt inside. I could not explain the confidence that tied into that bliss, the assuredness I felt. I could only describe it as a sort of faith—not in conjunction with religion or sacrilegious rituals or beliefs, but faith of the purest kind. I had to believe this story had a happy ending. And it would not have a happy ending if I did not have my baby.

"Edward, I know this is right. Deep inside, I know this is not a mistake. It was meant to be."

He didn't say anything. His eyes fixed on mine, mutely, and his head rocked back and forth mechanically. His eyes went strangely blank, as if he were giving up.

"I'm not going to die," I vowed quietly, dropping my hand back to his and squeezing fiercely. I'm not going to die. "Carlisle will do everything he can, but if it's not enough…" I paused, wondering if I possessed that sort of strength, wondering if my willpower would be enough. Yes. It had to be. Otherwise, my beautiful son would not survive. I had to be strong enough for him, and for Edward. Because I knew he would not survive if I didn't. "I'll keep my heart beating. I can do that. And you will save me." I could hear the steadfastness in my voice, firm and unwavering.

"Save you?" Edward spat, looking like he didn't quite comprehend my words, "How?"

Edward's head bowed, his forehead pressing against my knees. I could see he was suffering, could see he was battling with the fear, the trepidation, the self-doubt, possibly. But I believed in him just as much as I believed in myself.

I brushed my fingers through his hair. "Don't you want him, too? At all?"

He did not lift his head, and my stomach twisted. How could this be—how could I possesses such a huge love for this tiny being, and he could feel nothing, nothing at all?

Edward didn't answer, and in his silence, I found my answer.

No. No, he did not.