All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

thank you, nic. i love you more than nutella straight from the jar.

For a long time we sit in the car, stuck in the aftermath of Leah's words. My eyes flicker to the forest, no more than twenty feet from where we're parked. The trees are dead today, absolutely still in the absence of wind.

My stomach rolls over, and for a second I think I might actually get sick.

"Quite a secret you've been keeping, there," I say eventually.

In my peripheral, I see her nod. I can tell from the grim line of her mouth that she feels badly, but there's also this sense of relief to her posture, like she's glad the secret's finally out.

"So Jake's the reason my arms look like this. The reason I don't sleep under that window anymore. The reason I've been scared out of my damn mind!" My voice raises until it breaks, and I rip open the car door.

"Bella."

Her voice is calm. I'm anything but, and I keep moving.

"Bella! Damn, just hold up!" She grabs my arms and drags me to the tree line. I haven't been this close to it in months, and just being there makes me shudder involuntarily. "I know! I know. It sucks. Why do you think he hasn't stepped foot here since? As soon as Sam found out he forbade Jake to come back."

"Well, I told him not to come back for awhile, after seeing him shift for the first time."

"What?" She laughs humorlessly. "He's crazy about you…he would have come back whether you liked it or not." She drops my hand. "Especially if he thought something was hanging around your house. Your room."

"And said what, 'hey Bella, there's a vampire in your room?'"

"You probably wouldn't have even known he was around."

"Jake's a creeper. Great," I huffed. "So what happened, then? Did he change his mind?"

"What do you mean?"

"About what he saw? Why is this the first that I'm hearing about it?" I swallow, hard. "What if something had been there?"

"There was nothing. Sam and I checked it out."

"But how would you know?"

"Human blood gives vampires this smell. It's disgustingly sweet… like rotting fruit."

"Ugh." I've never smelled anything like that around the house or outside, but then again…I'm no wolf-girl.

"Yeah, exactly. And besides, I've been keeping an eye out since. Sometimes we patrol the woods at night."

This is news. "Really?"

"Mainly at La Push, but one or two of us usually hang out here."

"Every night?" I ask. I don't know if the thought makes me feel safer, or if it freaks me out even more.

She shakes her head. "Not every night. But most."

"So then…what do you think Jake saw? Because I think I'd know if something like that was actually in my room."

"To be honest, I don't know. Jake's…not himself lately. He's been really intense – as you can see – and a lot of that has to do with the fact that the hormones and chemicals pumping through his body right now are new and unchecked." Leah pauses, and I can tell she's trying hard to explain something that's virtually unexplainable. "This thing with you doesn't help, either. I think one of the reasons we imprint is to provide a natural balance to the aggression and danger we experience. I mean, obviously it's about ensuring that we survive as a race, but… it's more than that."

I let her words sink in. "You think that, because Jake's feelings for me are unrequited, he's losing touch with reality?"

"A little bit."

"That's…a lot to put on me," I say.

Too much. I feel as if I'm being torn in half; my feelings for a missing boy, and another's boys feelings for me.

"Hey." Leah puts her hand on my arm and starts leading the way to the house. "I know it feels that way, but you can't take it on. Seriously. It's his deal, and it will pass. No matter how much Jake thinks he's imprinted on you, how much he wants to think he has, he hasn't. Personally, I think he probably liked you from before, and it grew from there. He can't possibly know what it's like, because it hasn't happened for him yet. The rules don't change for one person."

At this point, I choose to believe what Leah, and probably the rest of the tribe-minus-Jake, think. It lines up best with how I feel, what I know in my heart is true. I don't doubt that Jake loves me. But am I the one for him? No.

As horrifying as it is that he was the one who crashed in to my window, hurting me in the process, and then basically lied by omission afterward, I understand now. No matter how misguided, he did it to protect me. I can't hate him for that.

My mind is racing as Leah and I go inside. One on hand, I've found some measure of peace in knowing the truth about that night, as well as what I'm going to do from now on with regard to Jake. (Ignore him until his insanity passes.) Still, there's the feeling of being watched, no matter how much I try and ignore it. Leah says wolves sometimes patrol, but they can't be everywhere all the time.

And then there's Edward.

Always, always Edward. Not knowing what happened to him, if he's alive or dead, eclipses everything else.

I'm running in the woods.

It's freezing cold, like autumn or even winter, made colder by how fast I'm going, so fast my feet barely touch the forest floor. It's like flying.

And then, stillness. Floating, maybe.

I love you

I love you, too

Do you?

Sadness seeps in. It's different. I normally find peace in this dream.

I do

Then why aren't you here?

You'll hate me

Gasping, I wake up. I'm trembling so hard it hurts.

Across my room, the curtains flutter softly.

Charlie's been watching me all morning.

Leah's still in the shower, and Sue left a while ago to take Emily to school, so it's just us. Normally I'd make him omelettes on a morning like this, but with my hand still jacked up, that's not happening. Instead I set some scones and coffee down in front of him – his second cup – and pause. "What's up?"

"How's your hand?" he asks, sipping cautiously.

Shrugging, I hold it up for him to see. "It's okay, I guess. Hurts a little."

"But better?"

"Definitely."

"Good." He nods, picking his paper up again.

"Was that all?" I chuckle quietly. Even after all these years, my father is still such a mystery sometimes.

"Can't I check up on my kid?" he teases, regarding me over top the paper.

"Of course you can." I feel like hugging him, so I do. He stiffens, but then slides one arm around me and squeezes.

"Just want to make sure you're doing okay. Two visits to the hospital in so short a time are a little much."

He's right, obviously, and yet I didn't think about it like that before. The late night staff down at Forks Community Hospital must think I'm cursed.

Or just really klutzy.

Sometimes I feel bad for my Dad. All he wants to do is protect me, and yet between Edward and Jake I keep managing to get hurt.

It's raining again, so I grab an umbrella on my way out the door. Leah pushes my door open from the driver's seat, and I quickly slide inside her car. Sue returns as we back out, waving to us from her car.

Leah yawns as I hand her a cup of coffee and one of the leftover breakfast scones. "Sleep okay last night?"

"I slept okay." Frowning, I break a piece off of my own scone. "Why?"

"Sometimes you talk in your sleep. You know that, right?"

I shake my head slowly.

"Anyway, it… it sounded like you were crying. I came in to check on you, but you were asleep. It was weird."

Normally, my dreams start to fade the second I'm awake, but now, thinking back to last night, bits of my dream begin to return to me. It wasn't a happy head trip, I know that much, but it wasn't a nightmare, either.

"I think I dreamt of Edward," I say, blowing on my tea.

Leah winces with understanding.

"I don't know," I say. "It was weird…we were talking, but I couldn't see his face. I… I don't think this is the first time I've had dreams like this."

"What were you guys talking about?"

Closing my eyes, I try to recall the dream more specifically, but it remains just out of reach. Maybe that's for the better. I know it was sad, and I don't need to be depressed today. I appreciate Leah wanting to know, I really do, but maybe I need to just keep a dream journal next to my bed or something.

As usual, things are slow at the bookstore. My hand is feeling a bit better, and there are no orders to deal with on the computer, so Rachel puts me back on the register. By the time she leaves for lunch, just a handful of people have come in. At times I wonder how she manages to stay in business. The store was given to her by her grandparents, so everything is paid for, but it can't be cheap to keep the place up.

For a moment I'm tempted to go to the back anyway, and snoop around the internet for more information about the Quileutes and the Cold Ones, but I decide against it. In a way, Leah's told me everything I need to know.

A gust of air blows through the stillness, and up front, the little bell on the door dings just once. I glance up, expecting to see someone, but no one's there.

Must've been the wind. It's picking up again.

I'm about to start reading the book I brought when, inexplicably, that feeling washes over me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

I'm not alone, I know it.

"Rachel?" I call out. Maybe she slipped in, and that was why the bell rang?

There's no answer, and if I'm honest with myself, I didn't expect one. My stomach clamps in on itself nervously. Biting my lip, I reach for the phone. Leah's at the diner, and Charlie's down at the police station, where he still works and volunteers when things are slow at the Inn. The downtown area of Forks is small; either of them could be here in minutes.

That might not be enough time.

But enough time for what? Breathing deeply, I try to slow my racing heart. I want so badly to convince myself that I've got nothing more than a case of the creeps, but after talking to Leah and Jake, I know it could be more.

"Rachel?" I call again. "Hello?"

Stepping from behind the counter, I walk the small, narrow aisles. There is nothing, no one, but then again I'm not sure what, or whom, I expected to find. I don't know what's more exhausting: feeling that I'm being watched and trying to convince myself I'm not, or knowing that I probably am.

Gritting my teeth, I return to the counter. This is getting ridiculous; normally I don't get this jumpy until Halloween, when every other movie on TV is a slasher flick. The bell on the door tinkles quietly and I spin around angrily, wondering if I'm being toyed with.

But it's just Jake.

Surprised, I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it. "Where's Rachel?" he asks, scowling.

Resigned to the ongoing craziness that has become my life, I sigh loudly. "Hi, Jake."

Quicker than I've ever seen him move, he's everywhere at once, like he's looking for someone. Kind of like I was doing before he came in. Only he looks crazy. "Is she here? Are you by yourself?"

Now he's scaring me. Maybe there is something here, after all. I know better than to ignore my instincts.

"No…yes," I whisper. My palms hurt, and I realize I'm clenching my fists so tightly that I'm nearly drawing blood. Little scarlet half circles glow from my skin.

Jake looks up suddenly, and then he's gone. I watch as he jogs up the sidewalk and in to his car, which is idling on the curb. Within seconds he's gone, leaving me completely and utterly baffled. I'm reconsidering calling Leah after all when a glint of gold catches my eye. There, nestled between the extra change jar and a stack of pamphlets for poetry readings, is a small medallion. Even before examining it closely, I know what it is.

It's St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers.

I gave it to Edward the night before he left.

This afternoon replays over and over in my head. Earlier, I decided to keep it to myself, and haven't spoken a word of it to anyone – not even Leah. Thankfully, the busy atmosphere at home this evening prevented anyone from noticing that I was being even more anti-social than usual. Instead of eating dinner together as a family, like we generally do, Sue and Charlie budgeted in the kitchen while Emily picked at a hot dog and finished her book report. Leah left with Sam soon after, saying they had tribe business to contend with. She promised she'd be back before it got too late, but I didn't bother waiting to see.

I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, anyway.

And now sleep won't come, not even after a bath and a dose of Motrin 800.

Instead I lay as still as I can in the dark, clutching the little medallion. I run my fingertips repeatedly over the surface, tears stinging my eyes as I feel the impression of St. Christopher's face.

Thousands of people have these. Maybe even millions. The chance of this being the same one I gave Edward is pretty slim… but not as slim as an identical one showing up in the store, in a spot I know was empty minutes before.

The truth – what I hope is the truth – whispers in my heart, and, against my better judgment, I listen to it. I'm desperate for it, and it's so much sweeter than the bitterness of believing Edward's gone. It's impossible, but then again so is everything else I'm dealing with right now. Finding this medallion was a gift, something to encourage my hope and faith in his return. It has to be.

I do the breathing exercises my mother taught me years back, during her yoga phase. Inhale, exhale. Push all other thoughts away. Eventually my eyes begin to close. The anxiety of the day drains out, leaving me mentally and emotionally exhausted until I feel like I'm hanging on to consciousness by the barest of threads. Drunk with drowsiness, I start to drift off.

Are you there?

Sudden, familiar awareness douses me with wakefulness like a bucket of cold water. Speaking of which, my room's an icebox. Or maybe it's just me; I have goose bumps. I'm awake, but this reminds me so much of recent dreams.

My phone blinks on with a late night text that I ignore – it's probably from Leah, telling me she's finally coming home. I see the time before it goes off again, surprised to see it's just past midnight. I guess I did sleep for awhile, though I could've sworn I'd just dropped off. Disoriented, I blink in this dark that seems soft, waiting for whatever woke me to reveal itself.

When I finally whisper, I don't even mean to. "Edward?"

Seconds pass, minutes.

The shadows around my curtains divide, and from them a figure materializes.

Fear and disbelief prickle hotly at my skin. Choking back a cry, I bolt up from my bed and scramble to the other side of it. My heart's a beat away from having an attack, it's going so fast.

He stops where he stands, his hesitation palpable.

I start toward him, but then Leah's and Jake's words and warnings about Cold Ones invade my thoughts, and I stop, too. My mind is not playing tricks on me; this is happening, this is real. But who…?

"Edward?" My voice trembles, catches.

He isn't real. This isn't real.

But it is. His silhouette comes closer, and before the moonlight even catches his face I know it's him. His height, the way he walks. His hair. With a sob I fumble off the bed and go to him, stopping short of throwing myself in to his arms. Trembling, I touch his hand.

He's cold as a stone, and just as solid.

Last June

"You just don't seem the type," I said, rubbing my thumb back and forth over the intricate tattoo on Edward's forearm.

We were sitting on the bank of the river that ran behind his parent's property. The day was hot and humid, the sun playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds, so when Edward suggested swimming, I'd readily agreed. I hadn't been swimming outside like that since I was a kid. Back in Phoenix, my mother liked to go to the public pool, but that wasn't the same at all.

But then he'd pulled his shirt off, and I'd been distracted by the dark lettering on his bicep.

Well, that wasn't the only thing distracting me, but I chose to focus on it and not the way his bare skin made me want to lay down in the dirt and make out.

"Oh yeah? What's the type?" he laughed, kicking his sneakers off.

I hesitated, deciding I would just keep my shorts on. They were ratty old cutoffs, anyway. "I don't know. You're kind of clean cut," I said after a moment, shrugging.

"My Dad has the same one," he said. "We got them on my sixteenth birthday. My Mom almost killed him."

"He definitely doesn't seem like the type," I snorted. Although, I supposed if I really thought about it, I could envision his silly, sweet and kind of dorky father doing something like that. Edward's parents were anything but typical, and they never failed to surprise me with their antics and stories. I actually loved being around them, maybe even loved them.

Edward held his hand out. "C'mon."

We waded in to the pale green water, moving slowly against the lazy current. It was cooler than it looked, and I shivered.

"There's nothing in here, right?" I asked, wishing there was something between my feet and the muddy river bottom.

"City girl," Edward teased, turning around and drawing me close. My tank top was soaked now, and it clung to me.

"Like you're a country bumpkin," I said, giving his arm a little pinch. "Mr. I-miss-Chicago-pizza."

It had been just two weeks, and yet, I felt like I'd always known him. People said things like that all the time, but now I knew what they meant; my life was now split into before Edward and after. I hoped the after would never end, even when we had to go back to school at the end of summer.

When I wasn't helping out at the Inn, I was with Edward. He didn't have to work, so he was always available to hang out. We still went on dates, creative outings scattered all over the place, but we had a lot of down time too, watching movies and whispering beneath the stars late at night when the world was sleeping.

I barely even saw Angela anymore, but I knew she didn't mind. She and Ben were just as inseparable. The one time I tried to apologize for being M.I.A, she shushed me and told me this was what she'd wanted for me anyway.

"You'd miss that pizza too, if you'd ever had it," he said, his eyes flickering to my mouth.

My heart skipped. I could tell he was thinking about kissing me. I was always thinking about kissing him.

Raising a dripping hand, I pushed Edward's hair from his face. He said he was getting a haircut soon, but secretly I liked it this way. "You'll just have to take me one day."

He nodded, and between his eyes and water, the grass and the trees, all I could see was green, green, green. His hands slid down, grasping my thighs so he could lift me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, buoyed by the water.

We kissed, lazy, long kisses that meandered one in to the other. He tasted like the Jolly Ranchers we'd been eating earlier. When we were like this, nothing else existed. I had nothing else to compare him to, but I imagined he was the best kisser, romantic and sexy.

After a while he shifted, letting me down gently. He was hard; I could feel it, and he knew I could. Edward always put the brakes on when things got too intense, and while it always initially disappointed me, I appreciated it, too. We had time, and I thought it was sweet that he didn't want to pressure me.

Not that I'd have minded if he maybe went for it, though. I wanted him so much that I probably could've overcome the self doubt, the typical teenage fear of sexual intimacy.

I'd never met anyone like him. The boys back in high school had always seemed like they were in such a hurry to get laid, even the nicer ones.

"So what does it mean?" I asked, squinting at the words tattooed on his arm.

He wiped a hand over his face. "'Pertransit benefaciendo'. It means 'he went about, doing good'. It's kind of been my father's motto since he started traveling with Doctors Without Borders."

"That's so perfect for him," I said. "Are you going to travel after med school, too? Helping people the way your parents do?"

He glanced down at the water. "Maybe even before."

"So this is totally appropriate for you, too," I said, squeezing his bicep.

"I hope so." He nodded. "I hope I can be half the man my father is." From anyone else a statement like that would sound trite, but Edward's words were painfully sincere. The love and admiration was real, and once again I was struck by how close he was to his parents. Their family dynamic was rare, something to be envied.

"You already are," I told him.

And he really was.

One of the good things about being out of high school was that Charlie had nixed my curfew. As long as I kept him abreast of my plans, he had no problem with me doing my own thing. Summer nights of sneaking out with Leah were a thing of the past.

Late night almost always found me at Edward's. Sometimes we played dominos, other times we watched TV, but regardless of how the night started, it always ended with us in bed, tangled and panting. More often than not Edward's shirt came off, but tonight so did mine. I thought we were finally going to go further…

He pulled away abruptly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Immediately, my body craved the warmth of his, and I was so let down I wanted to cry. Why was he like this? All I wanted was to be as close to him as possible.

Taking a shaky breath, I turned my face, embarrassed.

"Hey," Edward whispered, gently grasping my chin so I'd look at him. "It's not like that, Bella."

"Then what is it like?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. Already, every one of his actions invoked a visceral reaction from me. Every word was significant. I never thought I'd see the day when my well being seemed to hinge on another person, but there I was.

He sat up, pulling me with him. "It's not that I don't want to… because believe me, I do. I just… can't."

Frowning, I linked our fingers and squeezed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he chuckled. "It's really, really right."

I wasn't following. "So…"

"So sex is a big deal to me."

"It's a big deal to me, too," I whispered.

"You know… my mom saved herself for my dad…and he told me once that he wished he'd waited for her, too. I think about that sometimes."

There was a long, very loaded pause in the conversation. "Are you a virgin?" I bit my lip nervously.

"Yeah," he said, nodding.

Unbelievable. I gaped at him, looking at his lips, his chest. It didn't seem possible that someone who looked like that could be a virgin. At the same time, though, it was a bit of a relief to know it wasn't me. This was something he'd decided before.

He smirked. "What? You don't believe me?"

"I do," I said. "I'm just shocked. You don't seem…"

"The type?" He made air quotes. "Just like I don't seem like the type to have this," he said, motioning to his tattoo. I sighed; he certainly was an enigma. The more I got to know him, the more I realized that he didn't fit in to neat little categories. I wondered briefly what clique he'd hung out with during high school and thought he'd probably been welcome in them all.

"I was just saying," I laughed, trying to lighten what had become a rather heavy discussion. "But you make a good point…"

"Have you…?" He cocked his head, searching me with his eyes.

"No."

"So what's the difference? I sense a double standard," he said, poking me in the ribs.

"Shut up," I giggled, grabbing his hands. He was right, of course. I guess I just wasn't used to guys like him.

"I'm not saying I want to wait until I'm married, but I want to be in love," he said, releasing me and lying down again. "I'm just not interested in casual sex."

While I knew he was simply being honest, his words pierced me. Chastened, I turned away. "This isn't casual to me."

"It's not casual to me, either." His fingers grazed my back, tickling and then tugging at my jeans. "C'mere."

My heart fluttered. That was his thing. C'mere. It usually meant, let's kiss. We lay on our sides, face to face.

"I'm falling in love with you," he said. "I think about you all the time."

His admission made my heart sing, made fireworks out of every cell in my body.

"Me too," I confessed, relieved that we could be real with each other this way.

"Then… I think we deserve to take it slow. You're worth the wait."

How could I fault him with rationale like that? Unfortunately, his romantic, considerate ways just made me want him even more.

What a conundrum. I sighed inwardly.

"You're worth it, too," I said, and I meant it. Something in me knew this could last.

Edward laughed, stroking the skin above the waistband of my jeans. "If we feel like this now, what's it going to be like once we have sex? I'll probably wanna marry you," he said, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Oh, really?" I rolled my eyes, but I loved it – and he knew that.

"Mm." He pulled me closer, kissing me.

"This is crazy."

"What is?"

"A little over a month ago we didn't even know each other."

"I know," he said, thumbing my cheek. "What'll it be like in another month?"

We kissed again, and he hitched my leg over his hip. I stiffened, not wanting to get carried away and then turned down. But as I was starting to see, Edward could read me pretty well.

"There are other things, Bella," he said, his breath warm in my ear. "Lots."

"Well then...show me."

so. you guys continue to impress me and entertain me (titillate me!) with your reviews, theories and questions. thank you, thank you, thank you. i love interacting with you. no review replies this last time...maybe i'll get better with this chapter? idk. let's ask tiny tyrant.

oh, and: http : / www(dot)twilighted (dot) net/forum/ viewtopic(dot)php?f=33&t=18931&st=0&sk=t&sd=a

(remove spaces etc)

lastly...the Season of Our Discontent angst contest, of which i am a judge, has some truly amazing entries. like, i cried reading some of them. check it out. http: / www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/3142288/

and lastly-lastly, this year's Fandom Gives Back is doing a compilation instead of an auction. i'm participating by donating an EPOV oneshot from starry eyed inside.

xoxo