Horologia's Note: Things speed up after this chapter (in the sense that Aro makes an appearance in part three, finally). Until then, we get a small dose of Forks and some of the changes that have occurred since Bella was a teen.

Part Two

At approximately two o'clock on a sleepy, Saturday morning, Bella arrived in Forks.

Although a fair number of Styrofoam cups littered the floor on the passenger side of her sedan (some still carrying the remnants of burnt gas station coffee), a subtle exhaustion had befallen her in the hours before. The thirty-four hour drive had been broken into four days of roughly nine hour shifts, with eye-strain and mental fatigue having settled in only after the second day. All of this after nearly a full week of packing and organizing and giving awkward goodbyes had left Bella eager to sleep until Sunday afternoon.

A brief phone call with Charlie on the previous Wednesday had left her certain that he would not be back in town until Monday. According to him, a small wave of killings in the Port Angeles region had prompted the gathering of local and state police into a single conference to discuss the details, which he had sighed at and called a sad waste because, "This is the same thing that happened several years ago, and we still don't know who was doing it." This had been followed by a, "I'm going to enjoy my retirement" as if he were trying to convince them both of that.

During the call, Bella had left all mentions of her health out of the conversation; instead telling him that she herself had a job talk in Seattle, and that, since her program did not completely frown upon its fifth year Ph.D students completing their dissertations from a distance, she be staying in Forks for the foreseeable future. It was a terrible lie, one that he would have easily been able to see through if they'd been speaking in person rather than over the phone, but he'd accepted it with as good of cheer that Charlie could muster and with the reassurance that her old room wasn't entirely uninhabitable.

Now, she sat parked in front of his house, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the thrum of her car's heater. In the three years since her last visit, there had only been subtle changes to the exterior, one of which had been a security light (which had flickered to life as she'd pulled into the drive). Bella knew the inside would be much more different, since he'd purportedly finally found himself a lady friend since then. Charlie had assured Bella that Carrie had her own house, but Bella knew just how desperately the interior of her father's house had cried out for someone with any sort of eye for design to save it.

Feelings of nostalgia (not all of which were bad) kept her in the vehicle for a couple of minutes longer than necessary. She tried to remember everything as it had been when she had last seen in. Her bedroom had been converted into a guest room - although the thought of Charlie having guests over was almost laughable - and the kitchen had been redone with the help of some of the La Push boys. Sam had been there when she made the comment about how much better it all looked, and had shot her a cheeky grin she would not have otherwise thought him capable of giving.

Bella sighed now, having since realized that the Alpha's improved mood then had been because of the Cullen's departure from Forks, and exited her car.

Cold wind rendered her coat useless, and she only spent as much time as necessary grabbing a small overnight bag from the backseat before racing to the front door (only stumbling once on the way). The rest of her belongings could wait until she'd had a good meal, shower, and sleep.

By the time she was through the front door, her teeth were chattering and her body was trembling. The winter weather here was nowhere as bad as the plains of Illinois and the wind chill that came with it got at this time of year, but cold was cold, and Bella was relieved when it became clear that Charlie had left the heat on for her.

Bella deposited her bag by the couch (the same couch from her high school days; she shook her head with an amused snort, with a muttered, "Charlie? Really?") and removed her coat.

In the kitchen, she found a note on the table:

Bella,

Went shopping.

Food is in the pantry. You didn't tell me Wednesday if you were on a certain diet or not. Assuming not. Milk, bread and eggs are fresh. No pizza.

She turned the corners of her mouth down thoughtfully. Some things did change.

Carrie will be by Sunday to help if you need it. Her number is on the fridge.

Dad

Bella slid a finger over the last word and smiled sadly. He'd started making an effort in the last several years to replace "Charlie" with "dad" or "at least, father, if you still want to be formal" but it hadn't quite stuck yet. All those years of being raised by a mother who preferred her first name had created a habit hard to break.

The note fluttered slowly back to the table. She wasn't starving, but four days of gas station snacks and roadside, chain diners had left her feeling disgusting and bloated. A small meal of real-enough food might go a long way in making her feel better about the last several days, or at least go a long way in helping her pretend that she felt better about the last several days.

Carrie's number was on the fridge, written on one of those small whiteboard magnets that were more of a hassle than they were worth. Bella had never met this woman in person, but the barely updated social media pages her father ineptly kept had had several pictures of the two of them together. Charlie looked happy with her, and Carrie had even mailed Bella a birthday card the year previous, with a small note (not in Charlie's handwriting) about how she was looking forward to meeting her in the future and a much needed gift card to Starbucks.

At least she made the effort, right?

The winner of her excursion into the fridge was a tupperware container full of fresh looking chicken salad. Bella retrieved the bread from the pantry as well as a knife and set down to make the sandwich, her mind on rush of the wind against the roof and the forlorn little feeling that she didn't know what she was doing there at her father's kitchen table at nearly three in the morning, alone, making dinner, and dying.

"I should email Renée," she said to the chicken salad.

It gave her no insight in return.

"Or call her, something, I don't know," she took a too-large bite and chewed lazily. It tasted good, like nothing Charlie could ever make, but went down dry.

Ten hours later, Bella awoke on the couch, not quite remembering how she got there in the first place. There was a dull ache behind her left eye and a sharper one in her lower abdomen, and instead of focusing on either of those, she smacked her dry lips together and squinted toward the living room window. A vaguely-familiar television movie filled the silence in the room, the volume set low, and Bella's half-eaten sandwich sat on the side table.

Getting up was difficult, like her limbs had happily adjusted to being sprawled out on Charlie's ancient couch, and Bella all but fell to the floor when she tried.

"Ugh."

She lounged where she landed for approximately ten minutes, watching the television with marked disinterest, before forcing herself to stand. Bella could think of no words to describe the bone-weariness she felt; she only knew that all of the days of driving and all the days that had led to the driving were the cause of it.

After finding her phone in the pocket of her coat, she checked the time and cringed. It was past one in the afternoon. There were no messages waiting for her, so she slid the phone into the pocket of the jeans she had slept in and ambled around looking for things that would help her feel human again. Charlie's house was clean and even had new paint, but little had changed, at least not enough interest her. Bella eventually found her way back into the kitchen, where she located the coffee supplies and put an entire pot on.

Thirty minutes later she was showered, dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, and standing on the threshold of her old room with a vacant expression on her face and a fresh mug of coffee in her hand.

Much of the changes made had been tasteful - beige on three of the walls and a deep brown on the last (Carrie's doing, most likely) and a matching scheme through the curtains, rug, and bedspread. She liked that it had changed since her teenage days, leaving little indication of any time she had spent there, alone or with Edward. There was a new dresser and a armoire, both stained a dark brown. Her old rocking chair remained situated near the window and on it sat a folded quilt - both were out of place in this otherwise well decorated room. Bella imagined Charlie having a rare moment of sentimentality and Carrie allowing him to.

It was beautiful, and while Bella didn't want to spend the rest of her life there, she knew that she could.

A solid knock at the front door caused her to jump just slightly but enough still to slosh her drink over her hand. Bella let out a soft cry of pain before uttering a light but terse "Dammit" as she dabbed at the coffee with her own sleeve.

"One moment!" she called out, doubtful that her visitor (very likely one of Charlie's friends or even Carrie being needlessly polite) could hear her, but there was no other knock.

Careful not to spill more, Bella took the stairs slowly and set the mug down before she reached the door. When she looked out to see who was there, she was thankful for her own foresight.

From what Alice had divulged during her short visit, most of the Cullen coven had not returned to Forks in nearly five years. While they had settled there again after Edward's death, largely in part to prevent the 'trouble' (as they had called it) from migrating there from Seattle, their lack of physical aging had eventually driven them away again. Carlisle and Esme had been able to stay much longer than their 'children' but even they, after so much time had passed, could not explain their youthful features to those critical of them.

This, of course, had meant that Alice's initial attempts to bait Bella to Forks had been based on a lie, a poor one at that. Carlisle no longer worked at the local hospital; he hadn't for nearly half a decade.

But this did not stop him from being the visitor outside of her door.

Bella was thankful that there was no sun to reflect off of the snow or the vampire that stood patiently outside of her door, as she did not want to add 'blind' to her list of current ailments.

"Carlisle?"

The smile he gave her was small but achingly beautiful. The same as Alice's had been when she, herself, showed up unannounced on Bella's front porch in Illinois. However, this time she was not hit with anger at having her life interrupted by her past at such a fragile moment but with pain.

With a twist of emotional vertigo, she realized that she looked nearly older than him now.

He must have sensed her discontent and perhaps even the cause of it, as he stepped only slightly closer and spoke softly, with his unparalleled brand of compassion, "Bella, it is lovely to see you again, if not a surprise."

"Didn't Alice...?"

"Yesterday," his lips quirked with bemusement and sadness, as if some small secret had finally been revealed to him, "I'm afraid she knows things that we do not and doesn't want to share them yet."

A soft but still bitter gust of wind pushed past Bella into the house. Reluctantly, with a telling shiver, she held open the door so that he could step in, "No sense in standing out there, someone might drive by and actually recognize the back of your head."

If he found any flaws in her logic, Carlisle did not say so. Instead, he followed the unspoken command that she had given him and stepped into Charlie's house. He was such a stranger here, in this normal entryway, that Bella found herself suffering a small bout of anxiety. Did things have to progress this quickly? Couldn't she have had more time to settle in and try to explain things to her family before she had to face the Cullens one-by-one or in bulk.

"You just got in," he stated, rather than asked, as his thoughtful golden eyes began it take in what was around him.

Bella took up her coffee mug again and shrugged, "This morning."

"Would you like me to come back?"

That thoughtfulness made her thaw a little, and Bella sighed while shaking her head in defeat, "I honestly don't know why you're here, Carlisle."

He gave her a rueful smile and slowly removed the scarf he had unnecessarily worn, "Until a week ago, I was in Toronto. I received two phone calls then, one from an old friend in Europe and the other from Alice. Both requested my presence here."

Without thinking, Bella took his scarf and coat from him, juggling the articles of clothing and her mug in trembling hands. Finally, she managed to hang them on the coat rack, and led him further into Charlie's house. As difficult as it had been to see Alice again and as weird as it was to be entertaining Carlisle without any notice, she still cared about the Cullens, on some fundamental level. It was good to be in his company again. Strange. Not under the best circumstances. But nice.

"Will you be the only one, then?"

They took seats, Bella on the tired-looking couch and Carlisle in one of Charlie's more comfortable armchairs. Neither settled in much - where Bella slouched over her cooling mug of coffee, Carlisle leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. Immaculately dressed as always, his clothes barely seemed to wrinkle with the effort.

"Esme and Alice are at the house. We retained our ownership despite the move. Emmett and Jasper were already in the area when I received my phone calls, but Rosalie will not be arriving until later."

If at all, it was implied.

"Oh," was all Bella had to say.

"It has been a short decade," he responded to the flatness in her tone, "and I fear that our Rose has a long way to go before she forgives herself for the troubles she has caused."

"Or me," muttered Bella.

"I suspect one day she will understand that you, least of all, are to blame for Edward's actions," there was a sweet sort of ache in his voice, the same one that had been there all those years ago when he'd returned to tell her of his adopted son's fate. Devastated but resigned.

They had all known that Edward's happiness would have only been fleeting at best, such was his disposition.

"But I did not come here to speak of this," Carlisle continued, "or only this. Alice has told me that you are ill."

With a sudden stab of bitterness, Bella wondered just how many more people she would have to explain this to before her parents. Or how many people Alice would tell, as if Bella's body was not her own property with its own secrets to protect. The anger faded as quickly as it came, driven away by the curious look in his eyes.

"Did she tell you what it was?"

"I didn't know until I got here. Although she told me it was terminal," he confessed.

Bella swallowed thickly, "I don't know why you're here. You're a great doctor, but not even you can fix this."

You won't, the accusation was there, because the only option she had to spare her life was one that Carlisle had long ago promised never to do.

"For several reasons," his gold eyes caught the light from one of the lamps and sparkled as he look, very briefly, at anything but her. "We would like to be here for you, even if you ask us to do so at a distance."

They would have to care at a distance, as they could not risk Charlie's suspicion at their collective failure to age.

"Esme and I would also like to help you pay for your treatment."

"What if I decide not to," Bella couldn't keep the belligerence out of her tone. It was as if they had made all of these decisions for her without her own input.

Carlisle sighed, "I would like for you to; it will give you more time."

"But I'll be miserable," she countered, "I've done the research. Chemo? Poison? For the chance of what, an extra month or two of waiting for the end."

"But you will still be largely able," he countered, "As someone who has had centuries of experience with medicine, I must admit that I was thinking of your parents in that regard. They'll be comforted by any determination you make to fight this illness, even if it may ultimately be futile, and you yourself may eventually be grateful for whatever time you can add."

Bella felt the telltale tension in her jaw and cheeks, the sort that precluded the inevitable introduction of tears into a conversation, and accused, "How can you be so rational about this?"

There was a softening of his marble features as he sat there considering her words. Eventually, when she had turned her face away from him to collect herself, Carlisle reached across the distance between them and removed one of her hands from the mug she cradled and held it within both of his. His unnaturally cold skin made her shiver, but she did not pull away.

"I forget sometimes how patronizing we may seem. You have changed," he explained, "you are now older and wiser in the ways of humanity than any of my children were when I turned them. I'm sorry if I forgot that you might now want to make your own decisions, and that you, more than most, might know what will comfort you and your parents during this time."

Tears did prick her eyes, "I know what would comfort me, but none of you would grant it."

"Please don't ask it of us."

"You've done it before. For Edward," her throat was tightening again, and she tried to pull her hand from his, "I don't want to die. Why did you come here if you were only going to let me?"

Carlisle reluctantly released her, attempting to hide his growing distress at the way in which this conversation had turned so quickly, "Because we all love you, Bella."

"Not enough," she cried softly.

They were words she had wanted to say to them ten years ago but had held in because they, too, were grieving over the loss of Edward. As angry as she had been then, she could not with good conscience dig their wounds deeper. But she was desperate now, hardly coming to terms to what was going to happen to her in the coming months, afraid of what would be waiting for her in that future where cancer would take her life. And he sat there so serenely, as if the loss of her life, even if terrible, would be better than philosophical dilemma her turning would create. They should have just sent Rosalie to remind her of what they could not do, at least then Bella would not have felt so betrayed.

And not for the first time, she found herself hating Edward for leaving them all this way.

The pained expression that flitted across his perfect features went unnoticed by the crying woman; Carlisle had lived long enough to know that it would take more than words to make her believe otherwise.

Bella sniffed, and wiped carefully at her eyes, "You should go. I need to unpack my things, and I'd rather do that before it gets dark out."

Carlisle stood and gracefully did not point out that, despite the winter, there were still several hours of daylight.

"Will you come see us?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," she confessed, and then added, "I'm sorry. I'm tired."

He did not patronize her by acknowledging that she had just had a very hard week; instead, he gave her thin shoulder a single, fatherly squeeze before disappearing with a small rush of air.

Bella looked to where he had been standing, bit her lips, and dropped her face into one of her hands.

When Carrie arrived just before noon the next morning, bundled in a thick wool coat, hat, scarf and gloves, Bella took one look at her as she came through the front door and knew that they would easily get alone. Perhaps it had been because the blue eyes that peeked out from behind all the layers keeping her warm were deep but playful, a levity that stood sharply in contrast with Bella's miserable mood, or perhaps it was because the older woman wasted no time in pulling her into a solid hug.

Bella, still dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a loose t-shirt, had stood there unsure how to return the gesture.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," Carrie said quickly, her accent distinctly Tennessean (Bella wondered what had brought her all the way out here, to the North Pacific), as she removed all of the layers that prevented Bella from getting a good look at her.

"You too. Charlie really loves you," Bella paused, unsure of why she had said that, but shrugged eventually and added, "I hope he's told you, and that I didn't spoil the surprise."

Carrie laughed, pulling her hat from her hair to reveal a head of strawberry blonde curls. Bella guessed her age around forty, although she looked like she might be a couple years younger. If she used dye, it was well done.

"Nope. No surprise, but thanks for saying it. Your father likes to mince his words."

Bella found herself smiling fondly in agreement, "Only the emotional ones."

They moved out of the entryway and into the kitchen, where Bella had been trying to figure out what to have for brunch when Carrie had first arrived. Over the usual introductory small talk ("How was the drive" "I'd rather retake my prelims than make it again" and "I've been trying to convince your father to take a trip to Illinois" "You aren't missing anything; it's just corn"), the pair settled about pulling various foods from the fridge to make a larger breakfast than Bella had originally intended.

As Carrie poked at the frying bacon and kept an eye on one of the omelettes, her face screwing up in an intense look of concentration, Bella peered out toward the drive. Even through the heavy fog, she could see that her little car with its navy blue paint was now firmly white, hidden beneath two inches of snow.

"Do you live in town?"

"The woods, actually."

The bacon grease popped, and Carrie hissed, "Ow."

"Do you need help?"

"Wanna make the toast?"

Bella stood and began to dig into the pantry, "Wheat or white?"

"Wheat. White bread tastes like air. Your father says you are almost done writing your dissertation?"

Bella pulled out two pieces of bread, looked at Carrie's solid but slight form, and decided that four might be better, "Uh. Yeah. I have a chapter and a half left."

"Could I even hope to understand what you're writing it on?" Carrie set the plate of bacon on the table and covered it with several paper towels to soak up the grease.

"The Ostrogoths' absorption into the Lombards and their vision of the Kingdom of Italy," Bella watched as Carrie playfully scrunched her nose and smirked, "Don't mind me, I'm just being pretentious."

"Academics," Carrie grumbled before starting on the second omelette, "I used to love the old Roman and Greek mythologies, but I found their history to be a little less fantastic."

"Too many invasions and wars?"

"All that fighting gets boring to read about," Carrie admitted, "I failed my history of Italy course. Okay. I didn't fail; I got a C."

"Oh? What did you study?"

"Mathematics, actually. But I eventually went into Environmental Law. I used to work out of Seattle, but I got tired of the city. Moved here a couple of years ago and took up a consulting position. I like it. Rustic."

Smart, stable, independent, and she liked Forks. Bella chuckled softly as she waited for the toast to pop; Charlie finally found a good one.

As they settled down to eat their breakfast, Carrie taking point in the conversation, seemingly well-practiced at keeping discussions flowing without allowing them to teeter into territories where they might fizzle out, Bella came to realize that the blonde's mood was contagious. The depression Carlisle had left her in had already begun to fade, as if his visit had only been a particularly strong dream.

"So you're going to finish your dissertation here, then?"

Bella was busy chewing and could only nod, wondering briefly how long she was going to be be able to keep up this lie before the guilt made her confess everything.

Carrie laughed and took a sip of her coffee, "Sorry. Shouldn't make you talk when you're trying to eat."

"S'okay," Bella said around some eggs, "You're the one supposed to impress me."

They shared a snicker.

"It makes sense, though, if you're waiting to hear back from one of the colleges in Seattle. Teaching or research."

"Research."

Another twenty minutes passed as they chatted amiably about Bella's future plans. Carrie knew enough about the process, having gone to Law School, to keep up her end. And finally, when they had exhausted that conversation, Bella grabbed their empty plates to set in the sink, "I should probably shower. If I know Charlie, he's told more than just you that I'm back in town."

"Yep. All of La Push knows you're here by now."

Bella groaned, "Great."

"I'm going shopping this afternoon, if you'd like to get out of the house and avoid a few of your old friends. I know how that is. Couldn't look the ones I grew up with high school in the eyes once I turned thirty; it's why I took the job out here."

"I should probably actually make a few calls after I shower. Renée will want to know I'm settling in, and I have a colleague back in Illinois who would probably like to hear that I'm still alive."

"That's all right. Did you need anything while I'm out? I'll only charge you fifteen percent interest instead of my usual fifty."

"Yes! I love Sunday sales. Real shampoo?"

"Did your dad leave you only his manly Suave?"

"I smell like a masculine ocean breeze," Bella tugged on the front of her shirt, as if to disperse the odour.

"I wondered why I kept wanting to call you Charlie over breakfast."

"That's okay; easy mistake."

"It's the beard."

"Wait. Charlie has a beard?!"

"I gave him an ultimatum, lose the moustache or round it out with a beard."

Bella rubbed the smooth skin of her face and feigned a frown, "Guess I'll have to shave then. Can't have people confusing us."

Carrie's laugh was deep and hearty, and wafted up the stairs as Bella went to take her shower. She didn't feel dirty or smell, but she needed an excuse to get away from her father's girlfriend. Not because she couldn't stand her, but because she liked to her too much. If she spent anymore time in her company, Bella knew that she would eventually crack and tell her the truth.

Hello. I'm your boyfriend's daughter. Nice to finally meet you, and oh, by the way, I'm dying.

It had a terrible ring to it.

After she had spent a suitable amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin, Bella dressed for the day and towel dried her hair. A quick check of her phone told her that Renée had already tried calling twice and had even left a message. She sent her a quick text,

"Busy. Call you later."

A notice in the corner of the phone's screen also indicated that Alan had emailed her the night before. Bella checked that as she cleaned her ears, and made a mental note to respond later, when she had enough time to look through the attachments he had sent. They would all need to be printed, signed and faxed back to the history department's main office, and his email assured her that there was no real rush.

Carrie had already gone to do her shopping, but had left a note for Bella on the counter:

"Expect Billy Black's boy at around two. He called while you were in the shower. I told you you should have come shopping.

I forgot to tell you that Charlie called this morning. He'll be home on Tuesday. Something's come up with the case in Port Angeles."

Bella reread the note and took a deep, steadying breath. First Carlisle and now Jacob. Would they all be stopping by to remind her of how wonderfully awful the past had been this weekend, or would she at least get another day or so to prepare herself for the ghost of Victoria and her just-as-dead lover.

She checked the clock and her eyes widened, "Shit."

And then a "Shitshitshit," when she heard a car door slam.

"Really," she hissed, tossing the towel up the stairs as she hurriedly ran her fingers through her tangled hair and got another whiff of what her father's head must smell like these days.

Just as she managed to convince her wet locks to behave, there was a rushed knock from the front of the house.

Bella walked quickly to the door and gave it a good yank, coming face to chest with someone she had not seen since she was twenty-four, "Jacob?"

His strong brow was bisected with an old scar, one that had been there the last time she saw him, but there was another now near his temple. His mouth, imprinted in her memory as having an perpetual playful smile, was still full but turned down. She wanted her heart to lurch at the sight of him, desperately wanted to be flooded with fond memories, but there was nothing. Sometimes too much time has past.

Bella took a step back and tried to get a good look at his eyes.

"Uh," she added, "good to see you."

"Yeah," his gaze was darting swiftly around the place, and he looked a little disturbed by something, "about that. You should probably come with me. Now."

"Excuse me, but I don't think that that's a good way to say hello back..."

"Hello. I'm fine. How are you? Looking great but not doing good at all," his face contorted briefly in what looked like pain, "But we'll talk about your health later, when you aren't surrounded by vampires, but for now you need to get in my truck," he had reached out to grab her arm; it was gentle and his touch was hot.

Bella let herself be dragged a couple of feet before she held up her hands in protest, "Whoa whoa. Before you kidnap a girl on the grounds that she's surrounded by the undead - by the way, were you aware that the Cullens are back in town and that this is a serious overreaction? - let her grab her coat and shoes first."

This seemed to mollify him enough to allow her to shove her feet into her boots and pull her coat from the rack by the door. As she was zipping it up and desperately thinking of a way of arguing herself out of this nonsense, Bella paused, "Wait. My health. How do you know about that?"

The contrite expression that met her glare reminded her of the Jacob she used to know, way back when she had been able to pretend that they would be best friends forever.

He pointed to his nose, and she nearly growled in her frustration, "I've had enough of people sniffing me and knowing that I'm dying before I even have the chance to ask them about the weather."

"I can't help it. Wait. You've had other people sniff you?"

"The Cullens," she snapped, "I just told you they were here. Aren't you overreacting a little? They've never posed a threat to my life, and you know it. It's been ten years, haven't you gotten over it already?"

This time, when he began to lead her from the house, it was with a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You didn't look into the news before you decided to come back, did you?"

"No," she admitted, "but nothing ever happens in Forks, so..."

The look he shot her suggested that she should have read the heck out of the news before she decided to roll in, "Your own father is in Port Angeles trying to help with a futile investigation on a serial killer who is actually a pack of hungry newborn vampires, and you want to tell me that nothing ever happens here?"

"Well, technically, Port Angeles isn't Forks, so..."

Jacob actually laughed, and looked for a moment like he might have really missed her all of these years and wasn't just here out of fading obligation to her father, "Still stubborn I s..."

But he didn't finish the statement; instead, he raised his nose just slightly to catch the breeze and swore softly beneath his breath, "I'm too late."

"What do you mean."

"Bella. Jacob. Hello!"

They both turned to see Alice grinning broadly at them from her place on Bella's car. The snow that had been there this morning was gone now, likely cleared off by the vampire herself. At their shocked expressions, she laughed - it was the musical sound Bella remembered it to be, but had not heard last week in Illinois - and slid off of the hood.

"What's going on?" Bella asked of both of her supernatural companions.

Jacob was eyeing Alice with a loathing that had not faded over the years, but he was slowly removing his hand from Bella's shoulder and taking a small step back, "The treaty is what is going on. Bella, if you choose to come with me, we can protect you in La Push, but you have to choose. I can't just take you."

"Protect me from what? The newborns in Port Angeles?"

She looked to Alice, "Are they coming for me? Why would they come for me. I haven't been here long enough to attract trouble. That's just completely unreasonable."

Alice shook her head slowly and shot a reproachful but understanding glance at Jacob. She didn't blame the shape-shifter for caring, she just thought he should have gone about it better, "You're safe from them, Bella. I promise."

The vampire looked to Jacob and repeated the sentiment, "The newborns began moving this way in the morning; Carlisle's been on their trail since yesterday, but he has help, and they should be able to divert them away from Forks."

"There are newborns on their way here!" Bella shrieked, "Why hasn't anyone told me before today? Carlisle was here yesterday; he should have at least warned me that a fucking flock of hungry, non-vegetarian vampires were hunting in the region! Are you all trying to kill me before I die."

Jacob's glare softened as his eyes moved away from Alice and landed on Bella, "I didn't know you were here until I called Carrie. Your dad told my dad that you were going to be staying with him for awhile, but I thought you'd wait until he got back from his conference."

"Carlisle didn't want to worry you further," Alice explained.

"Well a load of good that did. Consider me worried further," Bella began to pull on her hair in frustration, growing more irritated when she realized that it was beginning to freeze in solid clumps, "Can we take this inside, or do you two want to fight over me out here."

"I'd really rather we leave, actually," Jacob confessed.

"Bella can come with me," Alice said to him before turning to address Bella herself, "We can take your car. If at any point you want to leave, you can do so. I won't stop you. But I'd rather you feel safe right now, and Esme has been hoping to see you."

Esme, Bella's anger receded just a little, "How is she doing?"

"Now," Jacob grunted, "Is not the time for small talk."

"Yeah. I got that when you started dragging me from my house. Without my boots on."

"That was silly," Alice frowned, "were you trying to freeze her?"

"No," he grumbled under his breath, "I was trying to get her out of here before you showed up."

Alice didn't seem to take it personally, "Well, I'm here now, and Bella has a choice to make. She can stay here, go with you, or come with me."

"Wait. Do I actually get to stay here?"

The dead-eyed look both of her old friends leveled on her suggested just how seriously they took that option.

"Weeeeell," Bella took a deep breath, doing her best not to lose her temper again. Being treated like a child was something that she'd hated as a child. As someone two years away from being thirty, that hatred had grown into a full-blown complex, "The Cullens all know that I'm nearing my expiration date, and you do too now, Jacob, but I'd like the number of people aware that I have cancer to remain at a bare minimum before Renée and Charlie find out. You know, just to be polite, since they are my parents after all."

"You're going with her," Jacob said flatly.

"Don't take it personally," Bella responded somewhat dryly, "We can catch up over coffee when I'm finished not being killed tonight."

He grumbled something she didn't catch and finally shook his head in resignation, "Yeah. Call me."

To Alice, he added, "If she dies, I'm coming after you. For Charlie."

The vampire looked as though she took him seriously; Bella wondered idly if she had seen a vision in which this scenario might actually occur.

Before she could say anything else to the shape-shifter, he had bounded over to his truck and had climbed in, shooting her only one last parting glance before starting the engine and driving away.

Bella waved.

When he had disappeared beyond the tree line, she looked warily to Alice, "You think you could have told me about all of this last week?"

"It wasn't supposed to be a problem."

"I'll only come with you if you promise to stop showing up unannounced. I have a cell phone, and I'm pretty sure you've gleaned the number."

"Deal," Alice said too quickly and held out her hand, "I'd like to drive. It's very foggy."

After making sure that her reluctance was all over her body language, Bella climbed into the passenger side of her vehicle, avoiding the coffee cups with her feet, and stared directly out of the windshield as Alice climbed in. She felt as if she were in high school once more, unable to make her own decisions or drive her own car.

"Just to be clear, I'm not blind. I can drive in the fog."

Alice chuckled as she started the engine, "I know I said that you are in no danger here, but I'd like to get home quickly all the same. It will make me feel better."

Bella refused to talk for the rest of the short drive. It had been years since a vampire drove her anywhere, and it was jarring how much faith she had lost in their ability not to crash while taking turns at ungodly speeds. When they finally came to a stop in the clearing before the Cullen's large, modern house, Bella darted her eyes to Alice and tried to give a surreptitious sigh of relief.

But that sigh died in her throat; Alice's golden eyes were glued to the door of the house, and she was far too tense for Bella's liking. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a startled Esme and a moment after that, a solemn Carlisle, whose gaze seemed to be boring a hole of betrayal into the smooth skin of Alice's forehead.

"Whatever happens," Alice whispered, "Stay close to me."

"I don't know...what...wait. Stay close to you? You can't be serious?"

Alice pushed open her door and after only a brief hesitation, Bella did the same, scrambling out of the car with her telltale lack of coordination.

"What is going on here?" she said softly, certain that they all heard her.

"Alice, I don't understand" Esme's eyes were filled with sadness, as if she were trying very hard to make sense of her daughter's actions.

"Don't understand what?" Bella's heart rate had begun to race.

Something seriously wrong was going on here.

"You had no right," Carlisle had moved only a short distance closer, and was regarding Alice with reproach. Faster than Bella's eyes could compensate for, his head snapped to the right as if he heard movement from the woods, "No."

"I'm sorry," he said to Bella at last, "I didn't know Alice would do this."

"You weren't going to do anything," Alice spoke at last, and when Bella looked to her, the young vampire's hands were clenched at her sides, "and you weren't going to allow me to do anything either. We can't just let her die."

"You've as good as killed her," Carlisle snapped, for once looking like the creature he was.

"No, I haven't. I've seen it. This will all be fine. Trust me."

To Bella, she pleaded, her gold eyes wide and sad, "Trust me."

Bella wanted to, just to make that look go away.

"I don't know what's going on here," Bella said helplessly, "Why can't any of you ever make sense?"

All three vampire's looked quickly to the edge of the clearing by the house, and Esme grabbed her husband's arm to still him. Whatever was coming had driven them to this argument but had not startled them enough to make them crouch down in defense. Bella realized then that it was something that they already knew wouldn't hurt them but would very likely take a bite out of her.

Two cloaked figures stepped from between the dying trees, followed by another two at their sides. Tiny, the pair was dwarfed by their companions but led them regardless.

Bella stepped backward toward Alice and stumbled.

"A human?" a reedy, female voice filled the silence as two snow-white hands lifted to push back one of the short figure's hoods.

Bella found herself staring into the sadistic red eyes of a vampire that looked no older than thirteen, and her courage failed her where her words did not. When Alice told her she would be safe here, she must have been functioning under a very loose definition of 'safe'.

"Seriously!?"

Endnote: Sometimes life is so obscenely crappy that humor tries to lighten the mood. Sometimes, humor should mind its own business.