I don't own Twilight.

It's said denial is the mind's defense against having to acknowledge something too painful to bear. A person believes, despite all evidence to the contrary, that their preferred version of the truth will prevail. Sometimes it's possible to exist in this state indefinitely. At other times, all it takes to break through and forever shatter the illusion is a handful of quiet words.

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We kept vigil in the ICU, counting each uneventful hour as a small victory. Grace had been given a cocktail of drugs, which left her both drowsy and somewhat disoriented. Despite her relatively stable state, I found myself unable to relax. The past ten hours felt surreal—how did I not realize there was something seriously wrong before last night? As I watched her sleep, pallid against the white of the hospital sheets, I struggled to make sense of it.

I thought back through the previous weeks, trying to pinpoint any signs I may have missed, but came up empty. Still, it was impossible not to feel guilty. As her mother, shouldn't I have instinctively known there was a problem? Had I been too distracted by work or…

"Don't." My mother's stern voice cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. "I see what you're doing, and you need to stop. It's not your fault. I spent a lot of time with her too, and didn't notice anything either."

"But…"

"Bella, stop it. You're not a doctor—nothing you described sounded out of the ordinary. Kids get sick with stuff all the time. There's no way you could be expected to make the leap from the flu to a brain tumor. No one would."

"I didn't see it either. She seemed pretty normal when I had her last weekend."

Edward's words were probably meant to be reassuring, but instead they made me angry, and I rounded on him.

"And you would know how? You see Grace twice a month. That hardly makes you an expert on what's normal for her."

"Bella!" My mother looked appalled.

"Renee, it's okay—I get it." His voice sounded tired but had an edge. "But Bella? You're not the only one who's upset and feels guilty here. You don't think I'm asking myself the same questions you are?"

"Nice that you feel guilty now." My words were acid, and I watched the color drain from his face.

When he finally spoke, it was so softly I could barely hear him. "No…not just now."

I was about to respond when Grace stirred, and slowly opened her eyes.

"Mommy?"

"Hey, sweetie. How're you doing?"

Her eyes drifted to my mother, then to Edward, a look of confusion on her face.

"Why's daddy here?"

"He helped keep you company on the ferry, remember?"

"Oh." Her eyes began to close again, before she forced them open. "Can we go home?"

Edward reached out to stroke her hair. "You'll need to stay here for a while, but we'll all be with you, okay?"

"You and mommy?"

"Both of us."

"And Nana?"

"Grandma, too, yes."

"Oh, okay…" Her words slurred together as she closed her eyes.

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

At noon, a pair of nurses appeared to take her for the MRI, and we followed behind, anxiously camping out in the radiology lounge. As we waited for her to finish, I filled the time by calling the Port Angeles school district to arrange for an indefinite leave of absence. Next I tried Jake, but got only his voicemail. I left a brief message, updating him on her condition, and letting him know I'd call again once I had more definitive information.

Edward made only one call, and from his end of things I deduced it was to his mother. It hadn't occurred to me until then to wonder at her absence, but I lacked the mental energy to ponder it further.

Once the results of the scan were available, we met with the oncologist while my mother stayed behind in ICU with Grace. The options presented to us were limited; at this point, surgery was a given—further treatment with radiation or chemo or both would hinge on the outcome of the biopsy. Yet despite the odds, a part of me still clung to the belief that she would somehow avoid a cancer diagnosis.

Surgery was scheduled for 8 o'clock the following morning. In preparation, Grace was sent for more tests; chest x-rays, an ECG, and another round of blood work.

During this time, Edward and I were required to fill out a mountain of paperwork. My hands shook as I signed the consent form, the doctor's words of caution ringing in my ears. No matter how skilled the surgeon, there's always a degree of risk…

Because Grace's tests were expected to take another hour, Renee suggested we head down to the cafeteria. My nerves would not allow me to eat, but I gratefully fell into the largest cup of coffee available. Edward seemed equally stressed, but still managed to look askance at the number of sugar packets I dumped into my drink. His quiet disapproval grated on me, and I barely suppressed the urge to snap at him.

Renee had taken it upon herself to handle the lodging arrangements once it became clear Grace would be unable to leave the hospital anytime soon. She'd managed to book a room for the two of us at a mid-sized hotel nearby, and I was grateful she'd had the presence of mind to think of it. In spite of having been up for over thirty-six hours, it hadn't occurred to me to even wonder where we would sleep.

As she filled us in, Edward tentatively offered, "You're both welcome to stay with me if you want. You don't have to stay at a hotel."

"No! Absolutely not." Exhaustion left me unwilling to feign politeness.

My mother shot me a reapproving look, then gently patted him on the arm. "That's sweet of you, but I've already paid for the room. Thank you, though."

"If you change your mind..."

I cut in. "We won't."

He nodded once before looking down embarrassed, and for a split second I almost felt badly. I knew I was being rude but just couldn't find it in me to care.

Our exchange only added to the growing strain, and five minutes later Edward excused himself, mumbling something about phone calls to make, before disappearing. He met up with us again in ICU just as Grace was being returned to her room. Shortly thereafter a new nurse came by, bringing with her an illustrated book and doll. She explained to Grace in simple terms what the surgeon was planning to do, using the doll to demonstrate the procedure. Grace was encouraged to ask as many questions as she wanted, but surprisingly she only had two: Will it hurt? And, are you sure I'll wake up?

At the second question, my stomach twisted. In her innocence, she'd cut to the heart of my unspoken fear.

We spent the remainder of the evening trying to keep Grace entertained and her mind off the coming surgery. I found it difficult to sustain light conversation, but Edward picked up the slack every time I faltered. He regaled her with amusing stories about his job at the aquarium, using silly voices to represent the various animals living there. It was clear this wasn't new territory for them, and I was a little taken aback seeing him in this role. Halfway through a particularly funny anecdote about the sea otters, her eyes began to flutter shut.

My mothered motioned for Edward to step back, and they conferred in hushed tones. When I caught her eye, she indicated that I should join them.

"He's going to drop me at the hotel on his way home. Why don't you stay with Grace a little longer, make sure she's settled for the night, and I'll see you when you get there?"

I agreed, and she handed over the car keys and explained where the car was parked. I hung back as she approached Grace again, grasping my daughter's tiny hand in her own and bowing her head.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…

I'd never really given much thought to the meaning behind the prayer. My mother's faith had been a constant in her life almost as long as I could remember. I'd been made to attend church on Sundays and even sang in the choir, but the conviction of belief had eluded me.

Following Renee's departure, I found myself contemplating the remaining words as I, too, held my daughter's hand while she drifted off to sleep.

If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I closed my eyes just for a moment…

"Ms. Swan?"

I was startled awake by the soft voice of the ICU nurse as she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"She's probably out for the night. Why don't you go and get some rest?"

I kissed Grace's check as I wearily agreed.

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I was barely able to stay awake during the short drive to the hotel. Too many hours without sleep left me disoriented, making it difficult for me to find the room. Once inside, I took a much needed shower, then called the front desk and arranged for an early wake-up call. Renee had been asleep on the queen-sized bed when I arrived, but sat up groggily when I crawled beneath the covers. Fatigue wrapped around me, as I sunk into the pillow and closed my eyes…

"Bella?"

As I struggled back to consciousness, I realized she'd turned to face me and was sitting cross-legged on the bed. She reached out, placing a hand on my arm.

"…hmm?"

My mother took a deep breath before quietly asking, "Do you think maybe it's time you and Edward talked?"

"…what?"

"I know we've discussed it before, but you need to find a way to forgive him and get past this. You can't afford to be at loggerheads with each other with what's going on."

Suddenly I was wide awake. "God, Mom, really? You want to talk about this now? You don't think I already have enough to worry about?" I felt my bitterness rise, years of resentment and animosity twisting my insides, and made a concerted effort to tamp it down. "I have nothing to say to him. He made his choice, and he can live with it."

"At least hear him out…"

I jerked my hand away from hers and sat up. "Why are you always defending him? Seriously, why? I don't understand it—I have never understood it. He promised to be there, for me, for Grace…that lasted all of five months. Did I deserve to be a single mother at 19? Did Grace deserve to not have a father around for years?" I started to shake with the force of my frustration. It always came back to this with Renee—in her world, everyone was worthy of forgiveness if they appeared genuinely contrite. That was all fine and good for her, but I failed to see how I owed Edward any understanding. Yes, he'd been young, but I'd been equally young and hadn't abandoned my child.

"Bella…"

"No. He doesn't deserve it. Just because he's playing dad now doesn't mean that what he did was forgivable. I'm tired of discussing this."

"Was I forgivable?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Was I forgivable? You know I left you and your father for a while. Your dad had to raise you on his own, only he didn't have his parents there to help him. Yet, when I had straightened myself out and was truly ready to be a parent…be a wife…he forgave me and we worked through our issues. He let go of his anger, and welcomed me back into your lives and we made it work. Was he wrong to do that?"

I stared at my mother, nonplussed. Of course I remembered that she'd been absent for a time when I was really little, but I was young enough when she returned that my memory of it was hazy. It was something I hadn't thought about in years, but suddenly her attitude towards Edward made sense.

It still infuriated me.

I could formulate no response to her question, and was too tired to even begin to try and sort it out now. Rolling onto my side, I faced away from her, and closed my eyes.

"I'm done talking about this."

My mother sighed, and I felt the bed shift as she settled back under the covers. The sound of her even breathing minutes later told me she was already asleep.

I was not so lucky.

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

The 6 AM wake-up call seemed to come only moments after I'd managed to find sleep. My mother and I got ready in silence, the conversation from the night before still heavy between us. I remembered to check my phone, and saw my dad had left an encouraging message with apologies that he'd been unable to arrange time off to be with us.

We skipped our usual morning coffee, but Renee insisted we stop on the way to pick up pastries. It did not go unnoticed by me that she took special care to include several of Edward's favorites. His particular preference had come to light one weekend when we'd visited my parents and he'd made the mistake of eating all of my father's sprinkled donuts. I was irritated but not surprised my mother would remember a detail like that, and angry at myself for caring.

When we entered Grace's room, Edward was already there. Clutched in her arms was an obviously well loved stuffed animal, and she was smiling weakly as he spoke to her. The realization that I had not thought to bring her anything felt like yet another failing on my part.

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Hey, Sweetie. Did you sleep okay?"

"I got my kangaroo…"

"I can see that. She's very pretty. Did daddy get that for you?"

'Yeah. I have lots of animals at daddy's house."

"…that's nice." It struck me fully then how little I knew about her life with her father.

Before anything more could be said, a nurse alerted us that it was time for Grace to be transferred to pre-op. Only Edward and I were allowed to accompany her there, so my mom gave us each a quick hug before promising she'd meet us in the waiting room.

Once in the holding area, she became distressed, gripping my hand tightly as she began to quietly cry. Her fear compounded my own, and I fought to hide my worry as I caressed her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

"Shh, shh…honey, it's going to be okay. I promise."

Edward regarded Grace with mounting concern as it became clear I could not calm her. He caught the attention of a nurse, who quickly came over and injected an anti-anxiety medication into the IV line. Soon, I could feel her hand relax in my own as the drug took effect.

We held her hands until it was time for the nurses to shave the back of her head. Stepping away, I had to quickly close my eyes. There was something so concrete about watching the red curls fall—I could no longer deny this was really going to happen. I'd been afraid every moment since our run to the Port Angeles emergency room, but it was nothing like the near panic I felt now.

Ten minutes later, she was wheeled into the operating room. As we lost sight of her, the tears I'd been holding back finally slipped out. I felt a light hand on my back with a whispered she'll be ok, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to be comforted. When I pulled away, he let his hand fall, before following me wordlessly to find Renee.

There was very little conversation as we waited. Minutes passed like hours, the tension making it difficult to maintain a veneer of calm. Edward fidgeted nervously, running his hands through his hair until I wanted to forcibly make him stop. Even my mother was unable to sit still, crossing and re-crossing her legs as she flipped through the pages of a magazine.

I tried to block everything out, but every time I closed my eyes, a random memory would force its way to the surface.

…my unwillingness in those first weeks to let anyone hold her—he'd had to practically pry Grace from my arms even as I was falling asleep...

Renee showing him how to properly prepare a bottle…

Waking up with his arms wrapped around me, our daughter safely cocooned between us…

Packing up the last of my belongings as my father loaded the boxes into the back of my truck for the trip back to Forks…

I knew the direction of my thoughts was influenced by Edward's continual presence. He was entirely too here—at a time I needed to focus exclusively on Grace, he was an unwelcome distraction. Eventually, I sought refuge in the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I tried to think about what needed to be done in the coming days.

When I returned, it was to see my mother with an arm around Edward, his head resting on her shoulder. The casual intimacy of the image stopped me in my tracks. Renee chose that instant to look up, offering me an encouraging smile. I stared for a moment, unable to respond. The little tendrils of betrayal and bitterness that had wrapped around me since Edward's appearance tightened their hold. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to wrench my mother's arms from him, denying him the comfort he found there.

But, on some fundamental level I recognized that he needed reassurance too, and I didn't have the right to begrudge him that.

My thoughts were interrupted by the staccato of rapid footsteps on linoleum. I turned to look, hoping it might be one of the doctors or perhaps a nurse with an update on Grace's status. Instead I found myself face to face with Edward's mother. She was immaculately dressed, as she'd been all the other times we'd met. An air of confidence surrounded her, and I briefly wondered whether anything ever disrupted her quiet self-assurance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my own mother stiffen as she registered Esme's presence. There was a short pause, before Renee offered an uncharacteristically lukewarm greeting.

A quick look at Edward's exhausted face confused me further. Instead of the relief I would have expected, he glanced at me hesitantly before rising to welcome her. She leaned in to hug him, then extended her hand to me.

"Bella. Lovely to see you again."

"You too, Mrs. Cullen. Thanks for coming down."

Esme dropped gracefully into the chair next to where Edward had been sitting, and he followed suit. She reached a tentative arm around him, but he remained rigid, not relaxing into her as he had my mother.

I hadn't thought it possible for things to be any more uncomfortable than they'd been moments earlier. But with Esme's arrival seem to come a new layer of tension, and I wondered if there was something I was missing. We sat together in taut silence until the quiet was again broken by footsteps.

"Miss Swan? Mr. Cullen?"

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

…and my world shifted.

With a few simple words, everything changed.

A/N

I have only 6 words for Immortal…"Yes, Beta. May I have another?"

As always, thanks to chris_erlyn for all the technical help, and for not running and screaming from the Amy and Immortal show.

And someday, you'll both get Chex Mix...and not the exploding kind, I promise.