A long overdue "Hello" to any friends still out there, reading…I have missed you! I sustained a brain injury nearly 3 years ago that comes and goes in its impact on my life and has significantly decreased my writing time, and perhaps ability, such as it ever was.

Caregiving also has taken progressively more of my time, though my mother has recovered near-miraculously from bone cancer and the caregiving I do now is more advocacy and tutoring for those in the refugee community near my home. I am blessed with many friends nearby who are trying to learn English, or master the complex material they need to know to pass the U.S. citizenship tests (if you were born in the U.S., check the test out sometime at the USCIS website—you might be surprised at how difficult it is or maybe, as I was, a little embarrassed at how much you don't know), and as someone who has had perhaps more than her share of education and access to resources, I literally (in an echo from Chris Traeger of Parks and Recreation—if you haven't watched that series yet, run to Netflix now and dive in if you can) cannot say "No."

Of course, I cannot say "No" for personality reasons too, thus my Bellas. And if you're reading this, I'm pretty sure you can relate. So here is a mostly-complete update for all of you, with my apologies for being so slow and my assurance that loving other people can lead you to wonderful places, albeit not rich or particularly comfortable ones. Unless you're Bella. Lucky #$^ gets all the good stuff and none of the bad, and that's why we bother reading/writing—she's our vicarious self, our reverse voodoo doll, our psychological comfort food. Dig in!

xoxo liza

I was interrupted in the middle of a weight set by my Chief of Staff's serious voice over the intercom. I know immediately if Jasper is speaking to me as my political aide and strategist or as my closest friend—something changes in his tone, and there's a subtle formality in his cadence when he's addressing me as Senator Cullen that's not there at other times.

Of course, at still other times the lines blur, as they had in my Capitol Hill office the night before, just prior to my encountering Isabella. Believing ourselves alone in the black-out dark, only emergency lights running from the ancient Senate Office Building generator, we'd taken advantage of the festive atmosphere on the night before a longed-for recess and vacation by breaking out the Glenfiddich 50. We weren't heedless enough to get quite drunk off it—it would be heresy to drink such sublime liquor when inebriated and unable to enjoy every rich nuance of flavor—but I definitely had a nice buzz going.

Jazz had left out the back door (for security reasons, every senator's office must have at least two entrance and exit points), as his car was parked on the Avenue, while my driver was waiting for me in the underground garage. So though I wasn't quite tipsy when I came upon little Isabella shivering in the dark in my front office, I was affected enough that I was worried when first waking that my impromptu adoption of her and all my romantic speculation had been the result of the alcohol.

I was extremely relieved when her appearance later—much later—that morning proved me wrong, as I had precisely the same extreme, possessive reaction to her stone cold sober and in the broad daylight as I had the night before—maybe even stronger.

And my reaction upon hearing that Isabella was missing from my aunt and uncle's house—where my Aunt Esme had insisted, over my strenuous objection, in dragging her for the day and the foreseeable future—was stronger still.

Unceremoniously dropping the weights with a shattering clang, I stood up growling, my first intelligible words being, not eloquently, I will admit, "What the fuck?"

"I don't know, Edward," was Jasper's calm reply, telegraphing in his own lack of emotion my need to get control of myself. He was right, of course, as he usually is—it's one of his most annoying qualities, and one of his most useful. "Alice just called me to say that Isabella isn't in her rooms, where they left her, and none of the staff so far has seen her."

"And no one called me?" I knew my aunt was determined to be a wedge between me and the young woman I had designs on, but this was taking it too far. Luckily for my future relationship with my aunt, whom I've loved if not like my mother than like my mother's best approximation, my phone buzzed right then with an incoming call from Esme.

XxXxX

Bella to bus station and onto bus.

XxXxX

Conversation between Edward and Esme; Edward chasing down Bella.

XxXxX

The bus finally closed its doors, and I felt a wave of relief sweep over me as it started to pull away from the curb and begin the long trip back to the capital. The relief was interrupted, however, as the bus came to a sudden halt before it was in the roadway, just a second or two after it started pulling out.

Unreasonably anxious at the delay—surely it was just a last-minute passenger—I bit my lip and looked out the window. I saw the doors finish opening and the flash of a leather dress shoe heading up the steps; I was too late looking to see who it was getting on, but I was puzzled to see a Greyhound station official standing there and two kind-of scary looking men in black suits.

Being used as I was to all the security personnel around the Capitol, and in particular Senator Cullen's private security staff, I noticed immediately the two-way radio earpieces and the telling lump under their suit jackets; as I stared a little harder, puzzlement starting to give way to alarm, I realized that I recognized the man closest to me as one of the people who had been in the office with Senator Cullen the day before.

The bottom of my stomach dropped out, and I turned my head away only to catch sight of a well-dressed man standing in the aisle, looking at me. "Is this seat taken?" Senator Cullen asked.

XxXxXx

The look of surprise on Isabella's face when she turned from the window and saw me standing there would have been extremely sweet and satisfying, if it hadn't also been tinged with such fear. The fear on her part added a bitter flavor to the sweetness and satisfaction on mine, not to mention worry about why she would be afraid of me and how I could change that fact.

Of course, it didn't stop me from dropping down into the seat next to hers and reaching my left hand up to rest on the seatback in front of her, sending as clearly as possible the message that she wasn't going anywhere without my approval ever again. At least that was the message my animal self and libido were sending; my more sophisticated mind was willing to say simply, "I don't like it when you leave without telling me where you're going, Isabella." So I said it.

Not surprisingly, she shrank into herself and started to cry.

So of course I pulled her sideways into my lap and started comforting her.

She caved immediately, curling up into my chest, grabbing hold of my shirt while her silent crying changed to sobs.

I gently shushed her, petting her hair and rubbing her back and leaning down to try and keep my comforting words between us, though I was well aware of at least two cell phones in the immediate vicinity doing their dirty but inevitable work of recording Senator Cullen's interaction with a sweet young thing on a Greyhound bus for posterity, or at least for selling to the highest tabloid bidder.

I'd made my peace with the ugly realities of a public life long ago, but I had someone else to consider now—someone vulnerable and easily wounded.

So I whispered in that someone's ear, "I'm going to pick you up now and get you out of here. Just close your eyes and hold on tight." And to my relief if not my surprise, she did.

XxXxXx

I was acutely embarrassed to be carried off the bus by Senator Cullen. I was so embarrassed I thought if I didn't actually die from it, I would simply have to never look at anyone ever again.

I was relieved that Senator Cullen seemed to be going along with my plan, as he was carrying me cradled in one arm while his opposite hand held my head closely against him. I wasn't sure how he was able to carry me in one arm, but I suppose my humiliatingly-desperate grasp around his neck helped.

XxXxXx

Her hold on me seemed so feeble, though I knew it was heartfelt. Which was nothing compared to what I could feel from her heart, which was pounding so fast I was afraid she would have to explode or pass out.

I negotiated the narrow bus aisle crowded with gawkers as quickly as I could and descended the steps with elation, having my girl back in my arms and being once more enveloped by the protective circle that ensures my best simulation of privacy and a personal life. Of course, up until now that personal life had been glaringly empty outside of my family's claims on my time.

But now—now it was as full as my arms, and I had a glorious sense of satisfied repleteness, of finally, finally being complete.

XxXxXx

I fell asleep quickly on the car ride—I guess it would be more accurate to say "limo ride,"—back to wherever Senator Cullen was taking me. I was, of course, terribly embarrassed, but to my great relief, Senator Cullen didn't yell at me or question me or say anything at all to me, other than a few "That's my girl"'s and "You're safe, sweetheart"'s throw in after he leaned down and kissed me on the head or cheek or ear.

I couldn't believe he wasn't angry at me for my seeming ingratitude, and I dreaded having to see his female relatives again (though I hoped they wouldn't be too mad seeing as I'd been careful to leave their expensive clothes hanging up in the closet when I left), but he made me feel so safe, and so tired, I couldn't help just drifting off to the sound of his one-sided phone conversation with someone named "Jazz."

I did notice before falling completely asleep that there were a lot of "she"'s in this conversation, and I worried briefly about who the "she" might be who was going to need "more rest, and a hell of a lot more supervision," but I decided not to concern myself with things that don't involve me and went to sleep instead.

I was confused again when I woke up, only not so much as the first time. I was pretty sure I was still at the Cullens' house, his aunt and uncle's or the Senator's, but this time I was waking up in a small bed tucked into a small room without a window. There were a lot of shelves with shoes on them, as well as row after row of suits and shirts and ties. I figured out pretty quickly that I was in a walk-in closet, an idea confirmed by the three-way mirror I saw when I sat up.

Hearing a quiet male voice say, "She just woke up," I turned to the side and spotted one of the security staff, the one I had recognized at the bus station, talking to no one other than the microphone I knew was tucked into his collar.

I gave him a hesitant smile, and he smiled back with a quick nod, adding, "The Senator will be right with you, Miss Swan."

"Oh, he doesn't need to bother with me," I said back, more calmly than I would have believed possible given what we were discussing.

He gave me one more quick smile, this one a little wry and almost apologetic, though I couldn't imagine what he would have to be apologetic about to me, saying, "I don't think he will find it a bother," before he straightened back up and assumed his distant look of monitoring every noise and activity.

I took the hint and didn't talk to him anymore, but did study my surroundings. I didn't have much more time than that required to realize and reflect that all of the clothing visible was male before a shockingly familiar male voice said to me as the door opened, "Good! You're awake!"

Turning around to the door open behind the security guard, I saw Senator Cullen, dressed as he had been on the bus, striding towards me. Since it was a walk-in closet, albeit a large one, it didn't take him long with the length of his stride to reach me.

"May I sit down?" he asked as he paused in front of the bed, looking at me with those piercing green eyes that make you feel absolutely naked—I double-checked to make sure I wasn't naked, and I was still in the shirt I had worn to the office yesterday (that felt like so long ago now) though my legs were bare and I saw my skirt laid neatly over a chair to the side—and a smile on his face-more a grin, really—that seemed to say that we were in on some big, wonderful joke together, and wasn't it funny…only I suspected I was the joke, so I didn't feel funny at all, but instead started to feel like I was going to start crying. Again.

I ducked my head as my eyes filled with tears and tried to block them by concentrating really hard on the beautiful bedspread covering me. It was exquisite, really; clearly silk and dyed with the colors of the sunset melting into sunrise over and over and over again, and delicate embroidery across it of hearts and flowers and moons and stars. For a moment, the urge to cry receded as I wondered at the beauty spread out before me, and reached a hand out to trace one of the…butterflies.

I had forgotten, for just a brief moment, where I was and who was there with me, and in that blissful moment of peace I felt a hand brush against mine, cool on my skin and then gone, though not far I knew. Looking up, surprised, I saw Senator Cullen looking down at me, such intensity in his eyes and expression—both trained on me—that I felt a shiver course down my body. His eyes darkened, and I squeaked and looked away.

Then his hand came back, and instead of just brushing against me, it oh-so-carefully circled around my wrist with his fingers, tightening until I felt them close around me. I was almost overcome with the urge to pee as sobs began building in my chest and every muscle tightened in an instinctive preparation to run, run, run away.

"Isabella," I heard in a voice so deep, so commanding it brought out goosebumps on my skin.

I squeaked again, and pulled against the manacle of his hand.

What happened next shocked me. He—Senator Cullen!—spoke hesitantly, his voice no longer authoritative, but…questioning, and…hurt. Even, well, vulnerable.

Shocked, I looked up at him as he finished asking, "Are you afraid of me?"

Well, if anyone had asked me that question yesterday morning on my way in to work (is that all it was ago? It feels like a lifetime since anything made sense…) I would have answered, "Of course!" and meant it. I'm afraid of most people, especially male people, for the inferior, embarrassed and ashamed ways I usually end up feeling around them, and that goes triple for someone like the Senator. Someone handsome and powerful and totally beyond me. I mean, before this bizarre interlude, I don't think he'd ever even looked at me, or certainly said anything to me beyond throwing out an anonymous "Good morning," or "Good afternoon," directed to anyone in hearing range when he moved en masse with all his satellites around him through the office.

But now…now, one of the most powerful people in the country was sitting next to my left leg, almost on top of it really, and holding my wrist so carefully and yet with so much strength, and looking with worried eyes into my own overwhelmed ones and asking with so much genuine feeling whether or not ridiculous me was afraid of him—as if he really cared one way or the other, as if me being afraid of him would—would hurt him.

It was laughable; it was absolutely absurd…but it was also very, very real. So I answered him, the way I always answer anybody. I told him what I thought he wanted to hear. "Of course not," with a smile like the idea I would be afraid of him was as silly as I am and not worth even entertaining rather than being one of the organizing facts of my universe.

I'm always surprised when people believe me when I lie like that. Sometimes I think I must be the biggest, best liar in the universe. I lie so much and so easily I don't really know what is "true" anymore, and in a way that's a relief.

Losing the dissonance in my life, even if it's by giving up who I am or used to want to be, is a relief. Anything that makes getting through every day a little bit easier is welcome to me. Except when I'm afraid I'm going to disappear entirely, become nothing but a series of smiles and pleasantries for people who don't really see me at all. Then it's scary and very depressing. But I try not to worry about that, and succeed most of the time.

But not today. Today I seemed to be failing in everything. Even in lying! Because right after I said what I thought he wanted to hear, Senator Cullen laughed at me.

It wasn't a big, hearty laugh; it was more sad than happy, but there was some humor in his eyes as he looked back down into my own and said, with a gentleness that pierced my heart, "You are a terrible liar, Isabella Swan."

My mouth dropped open at the surprise of his words. What was he talking about? I am an EXCELLENT liar! I lie all the time! I have to! Who is he to criticize the way I survive, to say I'm no good at it?!

Then, just as I was getting really mad, he disarmed my anger completely with the gentle touch of his fingertips along the side of my face, gently pushing my loose hair behind my ear. "I'm so sorry I made you afraid of me, sweetheart," he almost whispered as he touched me, and instantly I was in his arms, having plastered myself to the front of him, nearly knocking him backwards with my unexpected—by both of us—arrival in his lap.

In the next moment, just as I realized what I had done, my arms wrapped around his neck as his arms came around my body. When I tried to pull back I felt his hold strengthen and knew that, for the time being, I was going nowhere.

So I gave up pretending I wanted to be anywhere but right where I was, laid my head down on his shoulder and went back to sleep.

XXX

I wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

I could see her getting angry when I told her I knew she was lying; she's so transparent, it's adorable—there were almost little puffs of steam coming out of her ears like in an old cartoon.

But just as I was curiously waiting to hear what angry Isabella sounded like, I made an obvious apology—and a totally suspect one in my opinion, seeing as I was just proceeding to do more of what must have upset her in the first place—and she literally threw herself at me. Both her velocity of arrival in my lap and the speed with which her emotions changed direction were amazing, and I felt both literally and metaphorically winded with the force of her impact.

One deep breath later, as my arms were closing in on the unexpected treasure in my lap, I felt her emotions change course again—but I was faster than her this time. Or perhaps just more single-minded.

Whichever it was, the result was gratifying: she went nowhere.

She noticed that too, and I felt her fight instinct evaporate as she obediently laid her head on my shoulder instead and, rather incredibly given how much her eyes had been shut in the last 24 hours, went back to sleep.

I felt tired myself; the emotional back-and-forth of Isabella's arrival and erratic presence making me feel the uncharacteristic urge for a nap.

I knew I had a speech to polish for the playground opening the next day at the local school; I knew I was shortly expected at lunch with my family and had the usual tide of emails to respond to and long-term strategy plans for my country and my own career to discuss with my team on a conference call within an hour. But I couldn't bring myself to care.

Instead, I looked over to the security guard on Isabella detail, Adam—handpicked by me for his intelligence and surprising gentleness as well—and told him, "If anyone asks, I'm in conference with Miss Swan and am not to be disturbed." Then, finishing with a "Thank you" and a wry smile in response to his "Yes, Senator," I lay down on the twin bed we'd relocated from a guest room designed for children to the interior of my closet in my old suite at Esme and Carlisle's, closed my eyes, and went to sleep with Isabella carefully arranged on top of me.

I woke up to the unwelcome sound of voices. I checked on Isabella first, finding her unmoved but from her rigidity and rapidity of respiration probably awake. Lifting my head up, I kissed the top of her curled head still resting against my chest and said in an undertone, "Just keep your eyes closed, sweetheart, and I'll deal with them, okay?"

My heart soared when she nodded a response to me, the side of her head moving up and down against me. It was the first time she had answered a question with something other than tears, and I took it as a very welcome sign that she was starting to lose her fear of me. Squeezing her gently in an appreciative hug, I then continued to hold her close as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up with Isabella still in my arms…and still pretending to be asleep.

"Is there a party I don't know about?" I asked the three members of my family standing in a tight grouping not four feet away from me.

"Edward, you found her!" my Aunt Esme gushed as she moved towards me, ignoring both my question and my sarcasm and the associated implication that she should leave instead.

"Yes, Esme, I found her, and I'm trying to help her get some of the rest she so desperately needs. Surely lunch plans at home can't be more important than Isabella's health?"

"No, of course not, Edward," she chided me. And stopped, as if I was in the wrong, and she had no apology to make for invading my closet.

At least Uncle Carlisle looked uncomfortable. He approached too, but not near as far, (Esme was so close she was right next to the bed, and even reached out to stroke Isabella's hair; I nearly growled but let it go as she removed her hand afterwards).

"I'm sorry, son," he said with true apology in his voice as well. "Your mother was worried about the two of you and wouldn't rest until we'd seen you. Both," he emphasized, with his own once-over of the girl in my arms, his only visual.

"And now that you've seen us?"

That was a mistake—my relatives, the female ones especially, never respond as one would wish to leading questions. Alice seized the opportunity to move forward herself and cheerfully volunteer, "Now that we've seen you, we really must get Isabella's final measurements for her ball gown. I've found the perfect design, but it has an unusual back I didn't measure for, and I have to get the final measurements to Clarice by 1 p.m. if there is any hope of getting the dress shipped in time! Already we're asking for miracles to have the tailoring done overnight."

"I for one am asking for no miracle larger than time alone with Isabella, Alice. There's no need for her to have a ball gown altered overnight, because there's no need for her to go to any balls anytime before she's ready."

"But you can't go without her! It will hurt her feelings!"

"I'm not going without her; I'm not going either. I'm sure you and Rose and Esme will more than adequately represent the female side of our family, and the male side will suffer equally whether I'm there to join in the suffering or not. So I'll sit this one out, thank you all the same."

"But, Edward, you have to let people see her! You can't just keep her shut up in here; it's not right!"

"What's not right, Alice, is pressuring an exhausted and overwhelmed girl to go to a stilted and ostentatious event in order to be eyed up by all the rich old lechers and jealous aging social-climbers in the area. For the last time, there's absolutely no reason she needs to go to the Martins' party, nor do I."

"Actually, Edward, I'm afraid there is." All heads turned towards Jasper as he said this from his spot just inside the closet door.

"Jasper, how long have you been standing there?" I asked as Alice squealed and ran to throw herself in her husband's welcoming arms. I felt far less welcoming, and admit to the angry tenor in my question.

"Long enough to see what's going on."

"And what, exactly, is going on?" Crap, another leading question. Isabella was throwing off my game.

"I don't know, Edward—why don't you tell me? Or better yet, tell the voting public who will no doubt be eager to hear what their Senator is up to with a teenaged receptionist from his office?"

I sighed. I knew it was inevitable; I'd just hoped for more time.

"It broke?" I asked even though I didn't want to.

"In a thousand pieces," answered Jasper. "FOX News is sending someone to the house to 'ask for an interview'; no doubt they'll do a lovely smear job on the front steps."

I sighed again. FOX News would do their best to bring about investigation, censure, and legal entanglements if they could manage it. "Have you called Aro?"

"First thing I did this morning."

I nodded. Of course he had. "And?"

"He's flying out as soon as court adjurns for the day. Said to try to keep you from doing anything stupid before he got here; I didn't do so well at that."

"Not your fault, Jazz," I offered, though we both knew that didn't matter. We were both about to have a miserable round in front of the video cameras, and this time it wasn't likely to go away anytime soon.

"Maybe we should let her be seen, Edward," Jasper suggested.

"I'd say she was seen quite enough at the bus station," I retorted.

"No, I meant for an interview. With you. Someone sympathetic, from CBS or NBC—maybe even CNN. If we move fast we might get it on-air tonight."

"No." My tone said everything; the single word summed it up.

"But Edward—"

"I said NO and I meant it, Jasper. She's not going to be paraded around like a show poodle for the satisfaction of gossip-mavens and the least common denominator. So don't suggest it again."

There was silence after I rebuked my Chief in a way I'd never done before; I could see the hurt and frustration in his expression, and though I regretted both, there was no way I'd ever reconsider. She was too precious—

"Um, Senator Cullen?"

The voice from within my arms was unexpected, and shy, but surprisingly strong.

"Call me Edward, please, Isabella. What is it, honey?"

"Um, well, I don't mind….I mean, I think I should…I mean…"

"Close your eyes and tell me, sweetheart. What is it you don't mind?"

"I-don't-mind-talking-to-people-and-telling-them-the-truth," she ran together.

"Oh, and what truth is that?"

"That, that, that I was hiding in your office because I was scared in the dark and you brought me home because you're so kind."

I couldn't help it; I snorted at that—and I wasn't the only one.

I saw her blush and hide her head, and regretted the outburst. Eyeing everyone else around me to let them know to be quiet as well, I lowered my head to hers and said gently, "I'm sorry, baby girl; it's just that you're misreading this situation quite badly."

"I'm sorry," I barely heard her whisper as her tears started again.

"No, Isabella," I said firmly, holding her by her shoulders and pulling her off of my chest just enough that I could angle my head to catch her gaze. "You have nothing to be sorry for, angel. I do."

"No! You've done nothing wrong! It's all me! It's always my fault!"

I was surprised at her protective vehemence, and warmed by it. But also hugely troubled at how poor her self-esteem was. My anger towards her family was growing. How could she possibly believe such absurdity?

"No, Isabella, it is most definitely not always your fault, or ever, but I can see I'm not going to get you to believe that anytime soon. Instead, let me try to convince you that you are here because I want you here, because I like being around you and having you in my arms."

That quieted the tears. She stared up at me, her eyes round with incredulity.

"You like…me?" she asked back, her voice breathy with hope and fear and what seemed to be raw disbelief.

Leaning in to touch the tip of my nose to hers, I easily affirmed, "Yes, I like you very, very much. Too much, in fact, but it looks like I can't help that either. So the question is, do you want to stay here, with me, or do you want to go…" I had a hard time making myself say it, but finally I managed a dubious-sounding, "home?"

"Home?" she echoed, seeming confused.

I clarified. "Your uncle and aunt's house in DC, sweetheart. I can take you back right now if you'd rather be there than here, but I confess I very much don't want to do so."

"Oh," she said, looking even more confused. "But that's why I was, you know, on the bus."

"I guessed that, sweetheart," I responded, biting back my smile at her innocence, "but I'm afraid bus-riding is not safe transportation for you, ever."

She looked at me, still confused. "So how do I get back?"

"Well, I'm hoping you don't."

"But, I'm in the way here! I don't belong here!"

Holding both her shoulders firmly, I stuck my face right in hers and said, "Never speak that way about yourself again, Isabella. I won't have it. As far as I'm concerned, you're exactly where you belong, and don't ever forget it."

"But Edward…"

I grinned at her use of my name, wondering if she even realized she'd used it. Tucking hair behind her ears again, I then put a finger on her lips and said, "Shhhh, no but's, Isabella. You haven't answered my question."

She stared up at me, quiet, her wide eyes filling with tears not yet spilling over. "Do you want to go home to your family, or stay here with me?"

I heard Alice clear her throat, and I somewhat begrudgingly added, "And my family?"

She kept staring at me, and I tried to will the answer I wanted to come forth from her lips.

What I eventually got was close enough. Casting her gaze down and away from mine, she hesitantly asked, "What do you want me to say?"

I laughed at that, an angry, bitter laugh at how badly this beautiful creature had been cared for before me. Pulling her back into me, I wrapped my arms around her and rocked her a little before leaning down and whispering in her ear, "I want you to say you'll stay with me; I want you to trust me, even though you probably shouldn't. Trust me, I mean. I want the best for you, darling Isabella, but I'll probably never be unselfish enough to give that to you if it means your leaving me. You make my life so much better, already—in just 24 hours, not even that, you've made me happy for the first time…in a very long time, sweet girl. Please, if you're not terribly miserable, won't you please stay with me here?"

"Of course I will!" she responded with feeling, and though I knew her decisiveness was in direct proportion to my need and not her own sentiments, I didn't care.

"Edward, I think we should ask if she's willing to make an appearance with you tonight. Just a quick wave from the doorstep might put a totally different spin on things. People have been wanting to see you pick a princess for a very long time—this might actually go our way if you let it."

"NO, Jasper—I was very clear—"

But what I was very clear about got lost as the small brunette in my lap turned to my Chief of Staff and wrested all control away from me in 3 words. "I'll do it."

"She doesn't know what she's saying; what she's agreeing to!"

"Of course she doesn't ; how could she? But it's likely to be better than what will happen if they go with the story that you're keeping her here against her will."

"Why would they say that?" the innocent asked, wide-eyed and horrified.

I couldn't help but shake my head at her naivete. I probably deserved to be excoriated by the press and investigated by the Senate, but I knew for sure she didn't, and the way the world worked, she—with her unguarded nature and open heart—would be the one paying the heaviest price. I couldn't have that, so I decided to pick the lesser of two evils.

"Alright, Jazz; we'll do the interview. Of me, but with her present to say a quick hello, and hello only. Make sure to negotiate right of review post-editing."

"I always do, Edward; I always do." Then he moved to the door; the characteristic bounce back in his step as he takes on yet another impossible fight and wins it, by doing what he does so well: making me look a whole lot better than I am. I don't deserve such a friend, and I don't deserve such a family, but at least I appreciate that fact.

And I sure as hell don't deserve Isabella…but I'm not foolish enough to let her go—ever.

And that's where we'll leave the Senator, sounding at the end, I will admit, like a run-of-the-mill domestic abuser.There is, no doubt about it, a disturbing parallel in the words and actions of my Edward-heroes to those of the damaged minds who kill those they think they love.

I say "think" they love, because true love in my book means caring for the other person more than yourself, and that clearly precludes killing them out of jealousy or insecurity or rage.(I would say it precludes killing them entirely, but then I think about the cases of grieving spouses killing their life-long partners who are terminally ill or permanently incapacitated or vulnerable in some worse-than-dying sort of way, and I don't think that is a strictly true statement.)

And this is what separates my Edwards from abusers, in my opinion: his (eternal) dedication to Bella's best interests and well-being.Yes, he is arrogant for thinking himself the better judge than she, but that is the part of the real-life me (and you?) that is not politically-correct but accurate…that people like us do put ourselves last, and do struggle to verbalize our needs let alone act on them and do feel unwarranted shame about who we are in the world to such an extent that a bossy protector like Edward is, though not necessary (see my life), very very desirable—presuming he is an Edward, and not a James.

Unfortunately, real-life Edwards are as rare as vampires, as previously stated and grieved on here.While real-life Jameses are disturbingly common.So, once more, these stories are for emotional preservation and grief processing, NOT AS ADVICE FOR LIFE CHOICES.

Which is why they are rated "M," but our inner desperate children will never understand that rating, so beware.BEWARE your longings and your "needs" when considering romantic partners or taking action to find them.Remember that the BDSM world is likely to sell you far short, perhaps even destroy you, and conventional relationships don't have a good way to understand you and account for the ways you differ from the norm.

So try to be your own best advocate, and forgive yourself when you aren't…and when all else fails, ask the question: does this relationship/situation make me stronger and better able to love the world in my own unique way?If the answer is "No," try to get out of it, because the world needs you to be well and whole and as happy as possible in your short time on this planet.Why?Because it needs your love and affection, desperately—as desperately as any Bella ever needed an Edward, or more so, because there is so much more than one life at stake.

Much love,

Liza

p.s. Here's an extra Twilight-canon (more or less) piece that brought me emotional peace more than once…hope it does for you too.And thank you, Stephenie Meyer, for the infinite combinations of virtual happiness you made possible.

A matter-of-factual approach to Twilight, given the initial premise that a)vampires exist and b)they mate, in an instantaneous/irrevocable sort of way. (Makes you wonder about the length of time between Carlisle and Esme's meeting and eventual partnership, but we'll chalk that up to Carlisle's self-control and Esme's initial humanity.)

So…re-writing Twilight from there, with the central changed premise that Bella is emotionally-wounded and relationally-dependent, rather than the relatively healthy, resilient, independent version we're used to. Not a lot else really needs adjusted, as I think old-fashioned Edward would find such a Bella automatically attractive—although he needs to be more self-confident and less needy himself…maybe more resigned to vampirism and less tortured. But very, very lonely of course.

Bella's painfully shy and insecure after years of bad-fit living with outgoing, social-butterfly Renee who cannot understand a child unlike Renee's own self, and with an excruciating awareness of both the burden and disappointment she poses for her mother and her father—who is less disappointed and more mystified by her, and totally unable to provide the reassuring male affection she desperately yearns for.

When Phil comes along, she's starving for affection, and Phil—being after all a good deal younger than Renee and not ignorant of Isabella's innocent, undeveloped beauty—gets more and more familiar with her, to Renee's anger, mostly jealous-selfish anger with any protective feelings towards Bella (as she insists on calling her child, though the child in question is embarrassed to have that name, being teased by more than one peer about the mismatch between herself and her nickname which she tries to stop using) used more as a cover story for sending her away than a real motivation as Renee doesn't really think Phil is going to "do anything."

However, the night she comes in from a late day of parent-teacher conferences and finds Bella on Phil's lap on the sofa, covered by a blanket and watching tv, is the night she calls Charlie and announces that it is his turn to take "his child" for a while.

Charlie doesn't really mind; is, in fact, a little excited for it, as he does love Bella in his own, undemonstrative way, and appreciates her sunny, if understated, disposition and desire to please. He is soon overwhelmed, however, finding a full-time Bella to be much more of a mystery and responsibility than the summer visitor he is used to, especially when it comes time to enroll her in high school and she tries to talk him into letting her do an on-line charter school instead.

Charlie is unwilling to let her "hole up in the house" alone, and flummoxed by her fear of the normal high-school social scene, which fear he can't relate to at all nor even intellectually understand. He does get feeling uncomfortable speaking in front of the class, but sees it as "one of those things you just have to do in life," a matter-of-fact attitude that does nothing to dispel Bella's increasingly desperate sense of not belonging nor being wanted anywhere.

She sees, however, that Charlie is not going to budge for the time being on the matter of attending high school in person at Forks High, so she reluctantly goes to school the Monday after the Thursday she arrives in Forks, Charlie having allowed her to talk him into having the extra day off to adjust to her new surroundings and prepare herself for the transition.

Of course, nothing short of a horse tranquilizer—and Bella is far too afraid of being bad and getting in trouble to even begin to think of medicating herself with anything stronger than chocolate—would have made that Monday morning calm for her, and Isabella Swan (as she is trying to call herself, though Charlie has already ruined that for her by filling out her paperwork with "Bella") is a trembling, nauseous, shame-filled mess when she arrives at the school, humiliated by the loud noise of her ancient truck (though she likes the truck itself and is grateful Charlie got it for her) and trying to park it as far away from everyone else as possible.

The noise does draw the attention of a fair proportion of the student body, including the Cullens, who are gathered in Edward's car waiting for Alice and Edward to process the heavy-hitting future she just saw unfolding for him that day in her usual routine check. Edward hadn't been paying particular attention to her mind but just about drove off the road when a few of the images filtered past him. He had been almost to the school parking lot and needed his vampire reflexes to avoid hitting a car stopped just inside the driveway waiting to park as he recovered from the distressing picture of himself standing in the forest near the school, his lips coated in blood and cradling a lifeless girl in his arms—a petite brunette, but no one he had seen before.

As soon as he saw it he resolved to drop his siblings and leave immediately, and the image changed…to him cradling the same dead girl in the faded-yellow kitchen of an unknown bungalow, presumably in Forks.

He then resolved to leave for Alaska immediately, beginning to turn to exit the parking lot, and the body disappeared to be replaced by a vision of him running across the snowy tundra until—he had to wait to exit in order to let a behemoth of an antique truck enter first.

Looking at the driver with irritation, Edward saw the currently-alive eyes of his possible future victim staring back at him—eyes awash with fear and sadness. And something spiked in his long-dead chest. It was incomprehensible, and painful, but it tempered his reaction to the faint aroma that wafted through to him via the car's air conditioning system a few moments later, an aroma nearly drowned by rust and leaking motor oil but still detectable as the most delectable, mouth-watering scent he had ever encountered as a vampire.

His steering wheel protested and the metal under his feet bent, nearly giving way as he ground his heels against the car's floor, trying—and succeeding—to keep himself seated inside the car and not to give immediate chase to the girl. Breathing deeply, if unnecessarily, Edward felt already changed so that he did not know himself, or what he was capable of, or certainly what to do next, though he did not begin to understand why.

Changed also was Alice's vision, the lifeless body and bloodied lips fading to be replaced by much more carnal visions. Edward growled with feral desire at what he now saw playing out before him, and Jasper growled back in an emotional echo and a warning to remember the difference between Alice's future visions and reality, and to keep himself in check as long as Edward remained in the car and near Jasper's own precious future.

More than one student wondered what sort of heavy-metal was playing in the Cullens' Volvo that morning to make it rumble so violently, and Rose and Emmett both weighed in, Rose hissing "What is your problem?" while Emmett tried a more conciliatory, "Hey, dudes, we're drawing some looks here. What's the psychic pixie seeing now? That Stanley girl going to hit on you again today, Eddie boy? I don't know why you don't just wear pink,-"

He was interrupted in Emmett's attempt at good-natured advice giving and situation-calming by Edward spitting back, "That's not it, Em; shut up, please," followed immediately by, "What in God's name am I going to do, Alice?"

Alice, who had been in a near trance-state, was combing through the visions pouring onto her like a waterfall now, trying to trace a causal thread, trying to find the synthesizing story that led to such happiness on her brother's face in one of the possible futures so that they could protect it, nurture it, and make it grow more likely.

But when she zeroed in on the face of the girl they both recognized now as the girl from the noisy truck, Edward growled louder, and gripped the steering wheel so tightly it finally snapped. "No," he bit off, for the girl's eyes were red, though she was happy and laughing in his arms, the rest of his family around them, her laughter obviously contagious.

"But she's going to be happy, and so are you!" Alice countered.

"Not at that cost," Edward said, monotone but decided, his even-deader-now heart being not strong enough in its sorrow to counter the demands of his conscience; the guiding rules of his moral compass.

And the vision of him in Alaska was back, stronger than ever, the snowflakes gathering on his lips instead of blood or someone else's love, and that would have been that except…

Alice willfully turned towards the girl stumbling out of the rusty old truck and honed in on her future, now Edward-free.

And everyone in the car heard Edward's reaction to that future, as he sucked in the breath he needed for nothing more than the faintest reminder of her passing by, then swore and said, a little more loudly than a whisper, "Not her; please God, not her!"

But pleading with the universe did nothing to change the lifeless body in Alice's vision; rather many different lifeless bodies as she combed through the possible outcomes for the nameless girl in the weeks and months to come if Edward were to leave as he had decided.

"Please, Alice; stop!" Edward begged, tears in his voice if not in his eyes, as she ran through one more scenario ending in a maudlin episode in Forks' funeral parlor in which an unknown middle-aged woman rants at Charlie Swan, Forks' Chief of Police, in front of a coffin with the girl laid out—ending with the woman throwing a program of the service down on the floor before storming out. Seizing the opportunity to at least find out the girl's name, Alice zoomed in on the open program in her vision and read, upside-down, "Isabella Marie Swan" at the top in Italics.

"Isabella," Edward echoed, in a real whisper this time, though it held so much emotion it echoed through the car and its inhabitants.

"Isabella who?" Rosalie asked archly, getting her back up automatically and looking for the ways she would be wronged by the unfolding future.

A future that had changed again, its course moved permanently from the death by emotional neglect or stranger attack or unintentional suicide or suspicious cliff fall or just plain accident that had all been foretold when Edward was determined to leave, to another deluge of scenes of a happy Isabella, human this time, surrounded in turn by various members and groupings of the Cullen family circle, all of them reflecting the contented glow of this Isabella Swan, a human girl hurtling into their tightly-knit vampiric family circle with all the subtlety of a cannonball.

"There," Edward said with relief, almost with reverence.

"She's going to love all of us!" Alice chimed in with pure joy.

"Who is going to love us, Alice? Start explaining!" replied Rose with less than her usual venom in the case of Alice and Edward's shared conversations unintelligible to the rest of them, except in emotional context for Jasper, who looked shell-shocked indeed as he tried to recover from the extremes of both Alice's and Edward's emotional projections, not to mention the firestorm of shame and loneliness he had accidentally absorbed from the rusty truck as it rolled past, not having thought to be on guard from a mere human.

"She feels strongly," he manages to contribute as an afterthought, Alice turning to beam at him.

"I know! You'll help her so much, Jazzy, and she's going to be so good for you!" an ecstatic Alice shares back.

That's all Rosalie can take, and she exits the car in a sophisticated huff, tossing over her shoulder, "Fine, then, leave me out of it," as she stalks off with Emmett scrambling out of the car behind her.

"Rosie, babe, wait up!" he calls as he barely keeps to human pace and catches up to her, putting an enormous arm around her stiff shoulder.

The Cullens left in the car just sit there, letting their "big brother and sister" go, knowing there will be plenty of time to fill them in at lunch later because Alice's vision says so.

XxXxXx

Alice's visions change that morning, however, and as it turns out, it isn't Rose and Emmett that need filling in on the nuances and satisfying specifics of one Isabella Swan.

Here's what happens: Rose huffs to her locker as Bella scurries to the main office for her course schedule, watched all the way there—in an agony of delight and fear, with occasional spikes of pure rage at assorted Forks high students and light posts as Bella inevitable bumps into people, and stationary objects, across the lot and through the doorway—by the Cullens remaining in the car.

Alice doesn't see what's going to happen until Bella decides to be brave as she is exiting the main office, course schedule in hand, and go back to Mrs. Cope the secretary to see if her name on school documents could be changed to "Isabella." With that decision made, though soon made inconsequential in its own effect by Mrs. Cope's busy-ness on the phone line and then with other students, lasting long enough for Bella to lose the confidence and courage to request the change and just slink back out the door, she is guaranteed to slink out and nearly run into…Rosalie.

Rose's vampire reflexes prevent an actual collision with the heedless girl exiting the office into the hallway and smelling quite delicious, she has to admit. A little too floral for her tastes, perhaps, but she can intellectually understand Edward's reaction even as she emotionally condemns it. In the half-second of the near collision, an idea forms in Rose's mind and nearly instantly after in Alice's: she will show up her obnoxious all-knowing and –seeing siblings by getting to know this girl first.

The satisfying pleasure of her idea makes her smile, unusual for Rose within the confines of a high school or anywhere populated by humans, and even rare at home. But it's a smiling Rosalie Bella sees when she raises her head to apologize—again—to whomever she's almost run into now.

Bella freezes in shock at the beauty of her near-collision-victim, and her jaw drops slightly. Rose is used to this reaction, and her own smile starts to fade. But before it can fade entirely, Bella goes off-script and takes a step nearer to the vampire.

"I'm so sorry," she adds, so sincerely, and looking up at Rose with eyes pleading for forgiveness. Then, looking back down at the hallway floor (which is how she runs into so many things and people to begin with), Bella mumbles, "You're so beautiful."

Rose, and Emmett just to her side and behind her (which is how they usually walk together in school, finding this positioning most protective of themselves and least disruptive to the flow of passers-by who inevitably stop to gawk at Rose and move away from Emmett), both freeze in their own turn at the shock of a human approaching one of them when already close enough to sense their wrongness, and their danger.

Danger which spikes a little, even for well-fed and well-practiced Emmett, as Bella blushes, realizing the social awkwardness of what she's just said out loud. She has a terrible inner filter, despite Edward's difficulties "hearing" her, and hates that about herself. So now she's apologizing again, even more awkwardly, and not looking up at the beautiful girl this time lest her brain get more scrambled and confused than it was already.

"I mean, I meant, I really like your outfit," Bella stammers out, trying to cover for her faux pas and blushing even harder. Rose still hasn't said anything, though her smile has grown wider at the praise, so genuine, offered from a fellow high school female. That subset of humanity rarely genuinely compliments her, being prone instead to either keeping an intimidated distance or jealously attempting to bring her down a notch.

Of course, they never succeed, so they all end up keeping an intimidated distance by the end of Rose's first month anywhere, but as good as she is at making people keep their distance, Rose is lonely.

So this clueless little human girl who nearly blunders in to her and then—and then!—moves closer is almost as immediately attractive to Rose's inner self as Bella's blood is to Edward's inner vampire.

Which is what Alice sees so clearly, still sitting in the car with Edward and Jasper as the first bell rings, causing Edward to growl and complete the destruction of his steering wheel. He was nearly out of the car and on his way to carry off the girl –his girl, his mind was already insisting—from Rosalie's clutches when Jasper's restraining hand slowed him down long enough for him to see the consequences from within Alice's mind.

Dead girl again, in his arms, and Edward collapsed back into the seat with a heavy exhale of the now-stale air he'd been hoarding since the girl walked by.

"There, Edward, back to a happy ending," Alice consoled him, patting his shoulder as she moved lithely to exit the vehicle.

"Come on, we want you in AP English before she comes in, or she'll look up at you and—well, that's the school shooter cover story we really don't want to have to inflict on this town. Jasper, walk us to class?"

And with a quiet, "Trust Alice, Edward. She always gets me through," Jasper was out of the car too, waiting for a slightly-slower Edward, truly moving at human pace now with the fear and self-loathing coursing through him at the moment, albeit somewhat countered by a mounting hope not felt by him ever before as human or as vampire.

Alice and Edward were safely in their seats when Isabella arrived to class, Edward's eyes trained on his open notebook though his brain was madly racing through the school, searching for sight of his girl and the interactions she'd had so far that morning. When he found her, deep in conversation with his sister, Edward growled with a ferocity that scared everyone on his half of the room and required a joking-sounding-but-serious-as-multiple-homicide-can-get intervention from Alice in the form of the laughing question, "Edward, did you forget breakfast again this morning?"

There were a few half-hearted laughs and a giggle as Edward reassembled his moral and logical consciousness and chained the animal within back up, then flashed Alice a grateful smile and said, "Yes, Alice, I guess I did. Don't tell Esme on me."

He finished his part of the cover-up just as the hallway door opened and he was assaulted by a blast of Bella-scented air, oddly made more tolerable if also more aggravating by the intermingling of his siblings' scents as well.

Snapping his mouth shut and locking down all his muscles, Edward carefully avoided looking up at the girl seeming to take forever standing in the hallway, searching for a sign from the heavens (or so he sarcastically surmised) about where to move to in the classroom.

A sign was provided by, of course, his other meddling sister, as Alice hopped up and moved to the newcomer, chatting excitedly, "You must be Isabella Swan. I'm Alice Cullen. I heard you would be starting today. Come sit by me; there's an open seat right here," and carefully depositing the grateful girl on the far side of Alice's vampire body, thinking as she did so "I will take your head off if you make a move, Edward, so save yourself the agony of two centuries re-growth and keep your butt in your chair," Edward mumbling back an only slightly-bitter "Duly noted," pitched so low only Alice heard it, as intended.

Bella, however, sensed the communication, and having been primed by her conversation with Rosalie to watch for Rose's two siblings in the class, looked at the impossibly-handsome boy with "hair the color of sand at sunset that's always a mess" (or so Rose had described it) so out-of-place in a ridiculous high school chair-desk, and shivered from head to toe as she sat down.

The shiver almost killed her, as Edward sensed it as a predator sizes up his prey, and there was a miserable moment-like-eternity in which Edward weighed the best way to move through the room, killing everyone and disabling his sister so that he could make off with his prize and enjoy his own heaven, if a very short-lived one, at last.

But Alice's inner screaming and berating and threatening combined with Jasper's drawling promise to remove any enjoyment from his arms the second Edward exited the classroom or building (for going out the window seemed the best exit after a murderous rampage) worked together to bring him back to his senses enough to plan a delayed attack, and then, after 10 minutes of class to which Edward was unusually senseless had passed, to let go of his attack plans altogether and recommit to keeping the girl alive…to Alice's unspeakably grateful relief.

My girl, he thought. MINE!

Jasper felt this too, and reassured him from three classrooms away. "We all know, Edward; she's yours. Rose was just playing with you a little bit [Jasper was choosing some willful ignorance here of the intensity of Rose's affectionate, protective, maternal reaction to Isabella, something he'll have to fess up to later but is avoiding thinking about now for obvious, crisis-averting reasons], you know how she is—don't let her bitchiness ruin your happiness. I won't let her interfere again. The Swan girl is yours; I'll help you make sure of it [this part he meant with all his mind and heart, and both he and Edward felt the resonatingly honest commitment of it]."

That was more mental commentary than Edward was used to hearing from his brother; more, indeed, than Jasper was known to say for weeks all at one time. And it reassured him like nothing else had so far that morning. Jasper Whitlock was a formidable ally, and his word was better than gold.

The relief poured off of Edward, and gratitude too, so that what he heard next from his brother's mind was, "You're welcome, Ed. Now stop losing it every second so I can strategize here."

Edward smiled at this, and took his brother's advice, and managed to spend the rest of that class holding his breath and watching Isabella Swan—or "Bella," as she was being called by the teacher and rest of the student body, though he much preferred her full name—with very careful attention through the eyes of those around her, even his sister –though he couldn't stay in her mind for very long at one time, as she was keeping up a near-hysterically happy running commentary of all the ways having Bella in their lives would make them all better, and happier, and—in especial detail—more justified in shopping and spending obscene amounts of money. It was overwhelming.

But overwhelming in the best possible way.

Rose, on the other hand, wasn't in the least overwhelmed, but just extremely happy. After decades of mourning the loss of her ability to bear children, or even to adopt them, Rose had found a daughter. For just like Edward, she was now thinking of Bella as "MY girl," and it's a good thing Edward had steered clear of her thoughts since the hallway or he wouldn't have been able to continue his outward composure for long.

Of course, his outward composure snapped the instant he followed a happily chatting Alice and Isabella out the classroom door and saw his sister standing there, waiting for them, her eyes alight with possessive joy the moment she saw Bella. He also had the benefit of her inner dialogue at that point, and he was not happy.

Actually, he was a raving, mad, belligerent animal in the moment, and that would have been obvious to a quarter of the population of Forks High if Alice hadn't slipped away and pulled the fire alarm, the loud blaring noise and flashing lights of the alarm covering the loud rumbling growling and snapping teeth of Edward as students rushed the exits, giggling and jostling on the way—not panicked so much as pleased at the interruption to the normal school day.

Except for the knot of Cullens, surrounding Isabella Swan. They stayed put, and despite her need to cover her ears with her hands and shrink into herself a little at the sensory overload, Bella was paying no attention to the alarm, but to the alarming eyes of her new-found protector Rosalie Hale as she stared down and made really quite scary faces at…her own brother?

Thoroughly confused and overwhelmed, Bella didn't fight Alice at all when Alice pulled her out sideways from between the two posturing vampires. Indeed, Bella tripped after her most willingly, even though Alice was gripping her hand a little more tightly than was comfortable, as Jasper and Emmett intervened physically with Edward and Rose.

A few students found some inexplicable new dents in their lockers that day after the fire department had dutifully patrolled the school and found no fire or smoke or obvious fingerprints on the alarm that had been pulled. Giving up for the moment on catching the perpetrator or perpetrators, beyond a vague hope that a student in trouble for something else in the future would rat out their guilty buddy in a plea deal, the administration let the students back in and classes resumed… only with several students unaccounted for.

This development was covered by a phone call from Esme Cullen to the main office, explaining that there had been a family emergency requiring the immediate absence of all of her children, though she hoped they would be able to return the next day.

Actually, at the moment of the phone call, Esme's hope was more modest: that the day would end without one of her children trying to destroy another of her children, and with her family still intact and under one roof.

After a bizarre duet of wrestling and coaxing Edward out the far door away from the rest of the student body and into the woods, Jasper, Alice and a very reluctant Edward ran home, Alice summoning Carlisle from work in an urgent text message as they went.

Meanwhile, an equally-reluctant Rose was saying good-bye to a confused Bella on the fringes of the massed student body, a number of students watching as the unbelievably gorgeous Hale-Cullen girl that nobody (besides the other Cullens) liked talked animatedly to the mousy new girl, putting a perfectly-manicured hand on the smaller girl's upper arm then pulling her in for a hug.

One of the spectators, the junior class clown Tyler Crowley, started to let out an appreciative wolf whistle at the woman-on-woman affection being displayed, but the whistle died quickly on his lips as it was met with a coldly murderous glare from the big ape always shadowing his perfect girlfriend.

As soon as he was done quelling the unwanted attention from the nearby audience, Emmett leaned down and whispered, "Rosie, babe, we've got to get out of here to keep Isabella safe. We'll see her again tomorrow, I promise."

"I want more time, Emmett; I'm just getting to know her!" Rose pleaded back in vampiric undertones, Bella watching in puzzlement as Rose's lips moved but no sound detectable to her came out.

"Let's get home and re-group, Rosie; maybe we could take her home from school or something," Emmett extemporized, grabbing wildly for the straw that would make his stubborn love let go of something she wanted as badly as she wanted Isabella Swan at the moment.

Just then, the all-clear bell rang and the crushing mass of teenaged bodies started swarming towards the school; Bella looked that way then back at Rose, caught between competing senses of duty and competing fears.

Rose saw the fear of being censored for not getting back to class in time in her new daughter's eyes, and like any loving, protective mother would, moved to fix it for her. "Go, Isabella; go back in to school and to your second hour. It's on the first floor, at the end of the hall with the main office; just walk straight back from the doors right there. You'll be in time; go now and I'll see you later today, alright sweetie?"

And Bella felt the love and protection, and reflected it right back, murmuring, "Thank you, Rose!" before darting in and giving the startled vampire a quick hug of her own, surprised again at Rose's coldness and the firmness of her body, but not thinking anything more of it, then running off to join the end of the swarm back into the doors Rose had indicated, turning back once to wave at the proud vampires as they saw their new human-child off to her first day of school, as proud—and anxious—as any human parents have ever been.

Even Emmett was feeling the connection now, as he basked in the glow of his wife's utter happiness, and he said quietly to her, "Maybe we should just keep an eye on things from the trees for a while."

Rose needed no convincing, so the family conference around the antique dining room table held as soon as Carlisle could arrive, by car for appearance's sake though running would have been faster, was two vampires short of a coven—a fact railed most strongly against (as the shattered table would attest to) by an agitated, angry Edward for a tense few minutes before Carlisle, Alice and Jasper finally got through to him with a combination of calming words, reassuring future visions and a headlock.

"Jasper!" Edward protested, "You promised me you'd keep Rose from stealing her! You said she was mine!"

"I know I did, Ed," Jasper said through gritted teeth as he carefully kept his headlock in place around Edward's neck and avoided thinking of the ways to evade it. "And I will keep my promise. It's just turning out to be a little trickier than we thought at first, and you're not helping that right now either."

Willing his body to relax, Edward said contritely, "I'm sorry, Jazz; I've got it together now," and Jasper believed him and almost let go but was prevented in time by Alice's urgent instruction, "NO! Don't let go; he's going to go after Rose!"

And so Esme was spared having to watch two of her children be dismembered (well, in Rose's case be-headed), and her family torn apart, though it was a very close call.

Finally, Edward found his reason again and was able to calm enough to begin to discuss the situation, albeit still in the headlock, courtesy of an Alice-vision in which Bella witnessed an altercation between himself and Rose (and Emmett) and was rendered mute and unremittingly horrified by the carnage. The shame of his role in such a consequence for the girl he realizes he is already in love with (for no good reason, his logical mind asserts, but not at all convincingly to the rest of his person) jolts him out of his current outrage and allows him and the others to start strategizing ways past the current conflict between himself and his sister.

"I can't get a handle on it for certain, because Edward can't bring himself to actually decide to share Isabella with Rose, but I have a feeling that if he lets Rose take the lead at first, that it will actually smooth the way for his relationship with Bella and lead to better, safer futures for her."

Edward's anger at that statement left Alice speechless for a while as she processed the death and destruction wreaked by a maddened vampire foiled in his pursuit of his mate, Edward's own face growing more and more haggard as he watched second-hand the carnage unfold.

"Enough!" said Carlisle in a tone of voice they rarely heard. It was commanding, and it rang with both his vampiric and moral superiority by virtue of his age and experience, and his self-control. Not to mention his status as Edward's creator, a debt and power he rarely invoked (as indeed, he most often felt it as a burden more than a gift he had bestowed upon his eldest son) but was all the more weighty for that fact.

Surprised and ashamed of himself, Edward lowered his eyes and relaxed his body, falling to the floor on his hands and knees as Jasper releases him at Carlisle's firm instruction: "Let him loose, Jasper; he'll keep himself under control now or he's not the man I know him to be."

"I'm not sure I am…that man…any longer, if I ever was, Carlisle," a chastened, fearful Edward says from his position now kneeling on the floor, his head still hanging dejectedly as he studies the minute crevices in the wooden floorboards.

"Son, you're more that man than ever. You have displayed miraculous self-control in leaving the place where so much temptation faced you without harming either human or family member, and you're mastering your lower impulses even now as we talk when so much of you wishes to be elsewhere, feeling the joy that's been so long denied you. We must not lose sight of the happiness today in the midst of all the chaos: you have found your mate, Edward, and I am unspeakably happy for you."

"She cannot be that, Carlisle; I won't allow it. She deserves better than a vampire for a partner," was Edward's reply, standing now, but turned away from his family members and with his voice so low that even vampire ears had trouble hearing it. Then, more loudly as he turns to face Carlisle, his head raised high in Isabella-protective defiance, "But she deserves better than a vampire for a friend too. Rose needs to leave her alone, Carlisle. It's not right, her playing mother hen with a vulnerable human girl like that. You need to put a stop to it, or I will!"

Esme stepped up here, entering the conversation for the first time after her initial inquiries had been answered. "Edward, you must understand; Rosalie is not playing at anything. She has very strong maternal feelings that have always been denied an outlet, just as you have been denied a partner. Surely we can find a way, together, so that you both have your needs met; you both are satisfied?"

"I won't be satisfied until Isabella Swan is safe and vampire-free!"

"You don't mean that, Edward; at least not all of you does," Alice says quietly, for not since it first appeared that morning had there been a repeat of the vision of Edward alone in Alaska, having renounced any involvement in Isabella Swan's life.

"Well I should mean it, and you all should be helping me mean it!" a frustrated, near-despondent Edward retorts. "She's human, for God's sake!"

"Yes, and it's precisely that humanity which makes her so attractive to the two of my children who have always resented and regretted, at least in part, their vampirism. Looking at it in retrospect, I can see how you could never have fallen in love with another vampire, and obviously Rose needs the vulnerability of a human as well to feel the satisfaction of nurturing and protecting that she so longs to feel. Edward, this is a marvelous opportunity, especially given Isabella's apparent receptiveness to us. Is it really true she hugged Rosalie?" Carlisle asked Alice again, wanting a reassuring repeat description of the vision Alice had while racing through the forest, especially the sweetness of Isabella's trusting expression as she wrapped her arms around an undead body and laid her head against an unbeating heart, then went on as if there was nothing wrong with the marble statue she had just embraced.

Edward witnessed the vision repeated, in word and in Alice's thoughts, then punched a hole in the wall behind him before almost shouting in rage. "I am the one she should be embracing, not Rosalie!"

The monster in him nearly broke free of his family then and exacted the morbid revenge it deemed fair for such an unforgivable wrong as stealing an embrace from his Isabella, but Alice's vision was quick and too much for him to accept: Isabella running in fear from him after he destroys Rose and Emmett; him pursuing her with too much vampiric urgency and destroying her as well; and finally his own life destroyed in the insanity of grief and shame afterwards, any moment of that hell lasting far too long he knows.

Finally, finally; the monster concedes. There is no way to have what it wants without losing it as well. With a lot of relief and a little regret, Edward feels the monster relax its hold on him as it retreats to its lair deep inside him and Edward's better self takes control again.

Alice drops down on the floor with her own relief at the happy visions playing once more, saying, "Thank God, Edward," as she does.

Carlisle too relaxes, and takes a calming breath, having been stockstill for longer than he's used to anymore. "Alright, let's consider our objectives," he says calmly.

"Number one: keep Isabella Swan safe from harm."

"And happy!" Alice adds, jumping up again, and Carlisle beams down at her, agreeing, "And happy."

"Number two: allow Edward the opportunity to court her, and find out if she feels the same sort of connection to him as he feels for her."

Edward's moral censor feels he should object to this objective, but doesn't have the energy to oppose the rest of him, which desperately wants that to happen.

So he nods, once, somehow both defeatedly and hopefully.

Carlisle nods in return, then concludes, "Number three: allow Rosalie the opportunity to be a mother of sorts, for as long as doing so is consistent with objectives one and two."

Edward hears the priority he is being given, and it strengthens the natural generosity of spirit he would like to feel towards his sister, whom he does love despite their history of mutual antagonism and his recent and repeated intentions to destroy her in order to get to his mate. But he realizes that destroying her would destroy him, and that is confirmation of the brotherly love he still feels.

Although that love is tested once more as Alice shares with the rest of them the vision unfolding in her mind, Edward growling loudly the whole way through. "Rose and Emmett are staying in the woods around the school. Rose is going to disable Isabella's truck, and then they're going to offer to drive her home."

"Will anyone see them?" Esme asks anxiously, Carlisle not joining in but listening still as he keeps, with Jasper, careful watch on Edward's every agitated movement, pacing up and down the living room.

"This isn't right. This isn't right!" he perseverates under his breath, and is moving his frantic hands to his head, ready to rip out his hair at a minimum or maybe remove his own head to spare himself having to witness further the unfolding happiness between his sister and his Isabella while he is still alone, alone, always alone, when Esme steps in front of him, her hands falling to his shoulders, her eyes on Alice.

"Alice, what do we need to do to get Edward to see Isabella safely today." Esme's voice holds a tone of authority it's never had before, and Carlisle looks at his wife, partner and vampire mate with surprise.

Alice's eyes are mostly closed as she focuses on her inner world and the shifting suggestions of the future it contains. And Edward's eyes close as he watches, his face—his whole body—becoming peaceful and relaxed as the happiness of Alice's decision to have Carlisle text Emmett instructions on bringing the human girl to their vampire home for the afternoon—evening—night unfolds.

When that happy future unspools effortlessly all the way to the end of that week, and then the next one, Edward finally breaks in with a softly incredulous "Really, Alice?"

Her face alight with the happiness she'll share no small part of, Alice responds enthusiastically, "Really, Edward!" punctuated with a flying hug and giddy laughter as she hangs from his neck and Edward returns the embrace, spinning them in circles until Jasper can't take it anymore and plucks Alice off his brother and into his own arms.

He's not mad at Edward though, and giddy himself at the prospect of the joyful emotional atmosphere that keeps promising to break through the day's hysteria. "So what's the verdict?" he asks Edward, but his eyes move quickly back to his true love's face.

Both Alice and Edward answer, "Carlisle."

Alice explains as she looks over to their father figure, a tentative smile playing on his face as he watches what he hopes is the start of a new and happy epoch for his family, saying, "If you text Emmett, he'll bring Bella—"

Edward corrects Alice here in a quiet but forceful voice, "Isabella."

His family members all turn their heads to look at him, bracing themselves for a return of his outraged distress, but he just looks up calmly at Alice and repeats, "Her name is Isabella. Not Bella."

Alice grins at him, and goes on, emphasizing the name, "Isabella here after school, and Edward will meet her."

Carlisle, expecting more detail, waits a long second then asks, "And that will go well?"

Beaming, Alice answers him, "That will go very well."

Grinning with the joyful possibility of seeing his favorite, first-born son actually happy in the vampiric life Carlisle gave him, and tasting the sweet edges of the associated relief from the burden of guilt he has borne since turning Edward, Carlisle brings out his cell phone at vampire speed. As he uses his stylus (smart phones have posed some challenges for stone cold vampire flesh) to bring up his texting menu, he asks his favorite daughter (Rosalie is right to feel she is not loved quite as much as Alice, and certainly not as easily, though Carlisle and Esme both try), "Any suggestions for this text?"

And wading through more than lightning-fast the myriad possibilities for the message as soon as each family member has even the idea of suggesting them, Alice, Edward, Carlisle and family quickly come to "Emmett, I understand there is an important new member of our family. Will you and Rose please bring her home to meet her grandparents (Esme and me)? We promise to keep everyone on his and her best behavior. Tell Rosalie we are so happy for her, and want to share in the joy of knowing sweet Bella. I'm glad she has the two of you to keep her safe, Carlisle."

Edward has a hard time containing the rumbling growls and thirst for violence that erupt when he hears the "keep her safe" line, a combination of internal suggestions from both Esme and Jasper. But Alice gets through to him with the words, "It's just to get her in the doors, Edward; you'll be the most important part of keeping her safe after that," and more importantly, with the flickering visions of his utter happiness with a human Isabella equally happy in his arms as a result of Carlisle sending those words.

Finally, Edward can't take it anymore and announces, "I'm going for a run," as he is already out the back door and heading for the woods. Carlisle hits "SEND" while saying, "Edward, wait for me!" in not quite a coven-leader-command voice but with enough intensity and heartfelt request that Edward pauses the half-a-non-heartbeat needed for Carlisle to get a nod of approval from Alice and then chase after his son.