Bella

It has always intrigued me that Edward has never gotten me my own cell phone. I mean, not that I ever particularly wanted one, but with all the worrying he seemed to do, both while I was human and after I was turned, one would think that he would jump at the chance to give me a device that allowed contact at all times.

But apparently, one would be thinking wrong.

And the one time I'd asked, he'd laughed and raised an eyebrow, plainly saying: "You wouldn't use it anyway."

This, of course, was perfectly true, so I'd dropped the subject, and never brought it up again. But it always bothered me a little that there had been things I'd wanted in the past, and he'd ignored my wishes. Not because he was selfish, but because he was always putting my safety first. (Again okay, it was often necessary, I mean, how many seventeen year olds have bloodthirsty vampires chasing them?) But my point is, my wants hadn't stopped him in the past, so why should they now?

Sometimes, Edward completely boggled my mind.

And as we walked, rather, we ran, towards Portland, silence encompassed us. My keen sense of smell told me how far ahead of us Jake and Renesmee had gotten, and my crystal clear memory told me how much further we had to travel.

I looked at my husband, his auburn hair falling messily around his face; I tried, futilely to get a read on his thoughts. My efforts to gain insight would be fruitless, so finally, I broke down and asked.

"What are you thinking about?" I'd whispered, so softly I wasn't sure he'd heard me.

"I'm not," he murmured. "I'm wishing."

I blew out a breath. There were a lot of things I could imagine Edward wishing for in this moment. Wishing this nightmare was over. Hoping that it was all a dream of sorts and that it had never even begun. A whole slew of prayers in the "Why must Bella have a death wish" school of thought. I sighed, and let the silence lapse over us once more.

"Bella, you must know I don't to the things I do in order to make you miserable." he said, the all too familiar anguish lacing his words.

Incredulous, I looked at him. "Of course I don't think that." I rolled my eyes. "You know, aside from Carlisle, you're the smartest person I know. But you're not acting very smart right now. You're acting… we'll you are acting like an ass."

Edward smiled, ignoring my rub, and took my hand, elegantly twirling his fingers through mine.

"That cannot be helped, love. I only want what's best for you. I only want to protect you."

"Maybe…just in this case…you don't know what's best because you don't have all the information."

He slowed our pace to a walk, and naturally, I followed.

"What else do you know?" he asked me softly.

Oops.

I'd said too much. I bit my lip, weighing my options. I'd have to lie. Lying was something that I absolutely hated doing, not to mention that immortality hadn't graced me with a higher aptitude for it. It was either that, or admit a truth I'd been hiding for ten years. Neither seemed particularly appealing at the moment.

"I…never mind." I said, praying for once, he'd drop it.

"This is about Preston." He muttered then.

I felt my eyebrows shoot upwards. "Well, of course it is." I said, perplexed. We were chasing after Arielle to save her from Preston. I wasn't really sure where he was going with all this.

Understanding my confusion, he corrected himself. "This is about you and Preston. In the basement of the house." His tone grew icy cold, and i knew he was furious with himself for not catching it sooner.

"Edward…" I began soothingly, trying to keep my voice even and as normal as possible. But it was hard, seeing as how a ten year old secret was hanging thick in the air like a layer of smoke.

I was choking on it.

And it didn't matter; because he'd slipped into the same old pattern that was nearly irreversible. He was blaming himself, and as the seconds ticked by, he was running further and further into the pool of self-hate that was always so close to the surface of his mind. The less I tell him, the more his imagination will fill in the blanks, and he'd picture a far worse fate than I had ever met...

"Bella." He said finally, but his words had a cold edge to them. The edge I know he only finds when he is upset. I could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that so rarely betrayed any emotion at all, now told me that he was only angry with himself. And that made me angry. I bit down on my lip again, harder, and even with granite teeth, I barely feel a thing.

"Enough of this." I said decisively, when I could stand to watch him no longer. My husband looked at me again. "Whatever happened…well, it's over. I'm not out for revenge. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

"You shouldn't have to handle this."

"I do, Edward. Rosalie does. Arielle does. And they both had it much worse than me. Sometimes bad things are just a part of life. And you can't waste yours trying to protect me. Because it won't always work, and then we both end up unhappy."

He glared at me for a moment, clearly trying to decide if he should say more.

"Plus," I smiled, batting my eyelashes, "neither Rose nor Arielle have you all to themselves."

"Lucky them." he said, seriously.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again. If I thought slapping him would have forced him to see logic, I'd have done it. But at this point, I knew his only reaction would be to say he deserved it for his lack of protection. So instead, I said nothing, and jammed my hands into my pockets, running onwards.