A/N: Thanks to thimbles, itsange, and BelleDujour: pre-reader and betas for this chapter, respectively. And thank you for reading. :) Next update should be December 9th.


All the King's Horses

A siren tore Bella from sleep, dissolving half-remembered dreams. She shot up, bracing for the worst, but it was just an ambulance. That was good; if ambulances were being sent out, the storm had to be over.

Not so good for whoever needed the ambulance, though. Bella crossed her fingers for them: her version of a prayer.

When had she dozed off? Jessica was still snoozing away, hidden beneath the quilt, but Edward and Rosalie were nowhere to be seen. After shrugging into new clothes and wrapping a spare blanket around herself, Bella shuffled to the kitchen.

With the windows still boarded up, she couldn't see how much damage the storm had done. Upon opening the front door, she discovered a world shrouded in smoke. It was the yellow, antiseptic-smelling smoke that sometimes infiltrated the lab. Coiling over the withered grass and fallen trees, it looked like the atmosphere of an alien planet.

Nothing was on fire as far as Bella could tell. It was as though the town had sat out in the sun too long—like some cruel child had grown bored of playing with it and had left it on the hot pavement to shrivel like a raisin.

With the exception of the trees that had been painted orange and red by autumn, everything would be green again within a week. As soon as the air cleared, new life would sprout up all over. While people struggled to patch their homes back together, the plants would flourish. Unless, of course, the snow decided to arrive early. Patches of frost threatened the coming of winter, softening the edges of the gravel road. Before much longer, everything would be covered in white, like the last breath of summer had been burned away by the storm.

Even so, Bella wasn't sure the grass and weeds didn't keep up their obnoxious cycle of renewal beneath the blanket of cold. Shivering, she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. One arm ventured out of her shelter, raising in greeting to a neighbor who trundled past with a wheelbarrow full of fallen branches. All over the trailer park, people picked their way around broken glass and bent aluminum siding, fixing what they could, scavenging what could be used for some new purpose, and filling the dumpster with the rest. Thanks to the combined efforts of the smoke and the puffy white clouds overhead, the sun was blotted out, allowing Rosalie and Garrett to help with the clean-up efforts. Jasper, Mary, and Carlisle were there, too.

With her fingers pressed to her forehead, Rosalie paused to survey the damage. She didn't shrug away from Carlisle when he touched her shoulder as Bella expected her to. Instead, Rosalie leaned closer to him and placed her fingers on top of his.

Still no Edward. Trading her blanket for a knobbly old cardigan, Bella searched through her cupboard for roasted dandelion root, a jar of Emmett's honey, and the emergency jug of distilled water: everything she needed for a big pot of dandelion coffee. Soon, she would join everyone outside to clear away the debris, but first she'd help them refuel. To her relief, the stove obeyed her and heated up with the twist of a dial. Miracle of miracles, they had power. Maybe the milk would even still be good.

As she set a saucepan full of water on top of an orange-hot ring, the bathroom door swung open. Edward stepped out. At the sight of her, his posture stiffened.

Bella wanted to let loose any number of platitudes, but she didn't think he'd appreciate any of them. Neither would she, come to think of it.

"Good morning," she said instead.

She let him be after he returned her greeting. Silence settled in for a long visit, leaving only when the water began to bubble and Edward cleared his throat.

"1901," he said.

Bella frowned. "What?"

"The year I was born. It was 1901." His long fingers ruffled through his hair. An instant later, he began helping her without asking, scooping some of the ground dandelion root into the pan.

1901. If he'd lived his time straight through... Well, she never would have met him. The 114th anniversary of his birth had passed by in June. With her mind spinning, Bella turned the burner off and left the dark brown concoction to steep.

"How old were you when it happened?" she asked.

"Nine." Sighing, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

What must the Masens have gone through when their son went out to play one day in 1910 and never came back? A pang of sympathy ricocheted through Bella's chest for those long-gone strangers. Not knowing what had become of a loved one was its own kind of torture.

"I arrived in the middle of the riots in 1996," Edward said, his words coming faster and easier, like they'd built up within him over the years and were ready to explode. "I got by with luck... a lot of luck. That foster mother I told you about found me near her house and worked out what I was. She took me in and taught me how to act like a modern kid." He gave her the hint of a smile. "And how to cook, as you already know."

No wonder he worked for their organization. No wonder he'd cut down the woman in La Grande. If not for the kindness of his substitute mother, he could've ended up swinging in a noose of his own. Blinking away thoughts of that alternate past like she would banish tears, Bella traced the frayed rope on his forearm, as if to confirm that he was real. Edward leaned closer for a second, then stepped back, staring at the floor. His lips pressed together.

Bella bit the inside of her cheek. "And you didn't have any symptoms before yesterday?" she asked.

"No, never." A breathy, sharp sound that might have passed for a laugh spilled from his mouth. "I was drafted when I was twenty-one. Can't exactly hide that sort of thing in the Army. To be honest, I'd sort of started to doubt I'd get sick at all."

Eighteen years since the Surge reached back and snatched him away. No, nineteen, now, since Surge Memorial Day had just passed. Either way, it was a long time to go without developing Margaret Brown's, considering some people got lesions within minutes of time travel.

He'd gotten by with lot of luck, indeed.

"Do you need any help with the ointment?" she asked.

Had Jessica been awake, she would've had several comments to make about that. Most of them probably would've centered around the possibility of getting Garrett in there and convincing him to parade around topless as well. And then words like "Jell-O" and "mud" and "wrestling" would've entered into the conversation.

It was just as well that she was still asleep.

"No, thanks," Edward said. "Already put some on before you woke up. It's only a couple of marks on my chest. I can manage."

"Oh. If it made you sleepy, Jessica's bed is—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "I'm fine."

The words were softer than they had been the day before, but they still held that stubborn edge, like he thought if he put enough force behind them, he could hammer them like one of his machines—repair them until they were true. His eyelids drooped a little, but Bella thought he was probably right. The dose of ointment he'd need wasn't high enough to knock him out. Not yet. That he'd managed to drift off the night before was a blessing.

"What was that stuff you used on Jessica yesterday?" he asked. "Blood?"

"Yeah. Healthy blood. A friend of ours has antibodies that fight MBS."

Did it sound as unbelievable to him as it did to her? She hoped not. Mentioning werewolf blood would only lead to complications.

"Carlisle is working with it, trying to incorporate it into treatments," she said. "I might be able to find some that's your type, but I'm not sure. I'll do my best."

While they waited for the dandelion coffee to be ready, Edward helped Bella start pulling boards down from the windows. Bit by bit, the outside world was revealed to them, like they'd been living in a cave far from the wonders and horrors of civilization. Eventually, Jessica traipsed out of the bedroom: still in her pajamas, hugging a tattered robe close around her body.

"Morning," Bella said. "Give me a few more minutes, and I'll do your ointment."

Jessica screwed her face up into a grimace. "Take your time. I'm not ready to go back to sleep."

As soon as Edward dropped the board in his hands, Jessica hobbled across the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. He didn't seem to mind sympathy from this source. Rather, he returned the hug, patted her unruly curls, and whispered something in her ear.

Perhaps it was because they were in the same fight, battling together against time.

One by one, the vampires trickled in. Only Jasper remained outside—much to Bella's relief. Carlisle took Edward back to Bella's room to check up on him while Mary and Rosalie occupied themselves with the remaining boarded up windows, but Garrett stood near the door, hanging back like he was waiting for Jessica to come to him—which she did, dragging her feet.

"Sorry I kicked you out," she said, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

A smile flirted with Garrett's mouth: more wistful than warm. Holding Jessica's face between his hands, he bent at the waist and touched his lips to hers: fleeting, tender kisses that made something flutter in Bella's stomach just from watching them.

"That's new," Bella said to Rosalie. When this was met with no reply, she added, "Isn't it?"

Rosalie picked up a spoon and stirred the dandelion coffee, as if she had the slightest clue what she was doing. "I'm not sure."

When Edward and Carlisle returned, Bella touched the latter's arm and nodded toward the front door. He followed her out of the trailer, all the way to the edge of the dried-up forest. The cold bit Bella's skin through her cardigan and swirled her breath into fog. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she gazed into the darkest part of the forest and wondered how the wolves were doing.

"I need you to be completely honest with me," she whispered. "Don't try to spare my feelings or soften the blow."

Carlisle nodded. "I'll do my best."

"How much longer does she have? Realistically?"

A crease formed between his eyebrows. He looked at the ground, at the trees—anywhere but her. "It's hard to say, exactly." With his fingers laced together, he sat down on a stump. "If I had to say, I'd estimate six months."

Half a year. Bella wrapped her arms around herself to keep from splintering and falling apart.

"That's assuming we make no progress," Carlisle said, extending a hand to her. "There's always hope."

"Do you think so?"

He smiled that gentle smile that looked so out of place on a vampire. "I do."

After thanking him, Bella hurried back inside. Reheating the dandelion coffee and straining it into mugs kept her mind busy—prevented it from drifting to places she didn't want to go. By the time she drained the pan, every mug she owned was full. One went to Jessica, who avoided her questioning look. Another she gave to Edward. The rest she took outside in batches to the neighbors who had spent their mornings toiling away in the cold. Her plan to make breakfast sandwiches for everyone was ruined when she got back inside and discovered only two eggs in the noisy fridge.

In another way, it was perfect. It gave her an excuse.

The beast of a truck that lived in the carport didn't let her down; it clunked to life and carried her to the old barn on the edge of town. She took the steps to Rosalie's apartment two at a time, her lungs burning with each shallow breath. Flinging open the freezer, she began piling hard blocks of frozen food into a cooler.

"Need any help?"

Bella screamed. Her hand was already in her bag, closing around her gun, before she realized the question came from Emmett. He stood at the top of the stairs, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples.

"God," she said, wiping a hand over her face. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry." His grin said otherwise. "I've been cleaning up around here. Everything okay?"

"Mostly," she said with a nod of thanks when he bent to help her pack the cooler without question. "We're all in one piece, at least, but Jess is getting worse. And now Edward is sick, too."

"Edward? He's a time traveler?"

Carlisle hadn't told him? Bella had assumed that as the resident humans, only she and Jessica had been out of the loop. Then again, the times she'd seen Emmett and Carlisle engaged in conversation were about as numerous as the times she'd seen Rosalie take a break at work.

"Apparently," Bella said. "He had his first outbreak last night."

Emmett's hand rested over hers, even colder than usual from digging through the freezer. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. Seeing his big hand eclipse hers, she remembered that same hand resting on a human woman's back. She remembered the way that hand made Rosalie's smile shatter. That was all it took for the bitter taste of anger to once again scratch at the back of her throat.

"Hey," he said, catching her arm as she slammed the lid of the cooler and started filling her bag with eggs, bacon, and bread. "Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know." There was enough indecision swirling in her head to make it not a total lie, just most of one.

"Okay." Looking every bit like the big brother she'd never asked for, he tugged on a lock of her hair. "I probably deserve it. Just... bear in mind, you don't know the whole story."

"So tell me, then." It was more of a plea than a demand: a child's voice, begging for the truth. "What's your whole story?"

Emmett winked. "You first." He gave her one of his too-tight hugs and kissed her forehead like he had that night in the alley—the night he'd seemed so happy she was alive. "I'm going to get back to work. See you later."

"See you."

Once he disappeared, so did she, lugging the heavy cooler past her truck, across the pasture, and into the forest. Diving into the charred trees and dead vines brought a strange, fresh scent, as if the woods thought they were still green.

She wasn't due to meet Jake for a few more days yet, but she couldn't wait that long. Enveloped by the ruined forest, she raised her voice in song: one of the folk songs they'd agreed she and Jessica would sing whenever one of them needed to find him on an unscheduled day.

"Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a young maid sing in the valley down below. Oh, don't deceive me. Oh, never leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Sure enough, when she reached their meeting place, he jogged up in human form, wearing cut-offs and no shirt. Where his feet touched the ground, frost melted into dew.

"I still think we should add 'How Much is that Doggy in the Window?' to the rotation," she said.

"No way," he said, accepting the cooler. "Way too obvious. And hey, thanks."

"No problem. Everyone all right?"

"Yeah. We made it through. You?"

The breath she'd held upon asking the question whooshed out in a sigh with his answer. "All still alive, for now," she said.

She didn't need to tell him that Jessica was doing worse. They'd come so far together, she knew he could read it on her face. As expected, he offered up a hug, followed by his arm. She accepted both, fishing a syringe out of the front pocket of her bag.

"I need to ask you for a favor," she said as the needle pierced his skin.

"Yeah? Shoot."

"Paul's blood. Can you get some for me? A friend of mine needs it."

He grinned. "Making Paul bleed sounds like my idea of fun, not a favor."

"I'll give you a few vials," she said with a fond smile and a roll of her eyes. "Use a needle, not your fist."

"Aw, you're no fun." Pausing, he cocked his head as if listening to something too faint for her ears. "I could always just bring him along next time."

Not after the argument Paul had to have seen in Jake's head. No way. Bella cringed.

"That's okay," she said. "I—"

"Bells, seriously. Knock it off. I told you before, it's not like they think you wanted... I mean, it's never been easy since then, but..." He broke off with a shake of his head, dismissing the words before they could take shape. When he spoke again, his voice was softer: an echo of the little boy who used to chase her around Charlie's yard. "The only one who ever blamed you was you. What Paul hates is the fact that you're still working with the leeches."

She breathed out a laugh, but there was no power behind it, like she was back in that dream with Embry and couldn't make her voice heard. "Yeah, because Paul and I were so close before."

"Pft. Details."

The rest of their routine ticked by in silence while memories of long-ago fights screamed through her head. More than once, she and Embry had argued over her decision to work with Tanya and Irina.

It wasn't until Bella started packing up that Jake spoke again.

"Hey, did you know they have powers?" he asked.

"Did I know who had what now?"

"The bloodsuckers. Quil saw one of the new ones in the forest the other day, and it did something to him—made him so calm, he almost fell asleep."

Jasper. Avoiding Jake's gaze, Bella adjusted the shoulder strap on her bag.

"You did know," he said with a scoff. "Well, thanks for telling me."

"Sorry. I only found out recently, myself."

"Hmm. All right." Drumming his fingers against his knees, he stared at the fractured branches overhead. "It was so weird. Wonder what else they can do. Did you know that one Quil saw—"

"Jasper."

"Whatever. You know he and the new female are eating humans, right?"

She did, but decided it was better to avoid saying as much.

"Why haven't you done anything then?" she asked.

"They only eat Raiders. I figured it was the lesser of two evils."

Surprise rocked through her at his admission, but perhaps it shouldn't have. Jake had ached to kill the Raiders himself ever since the group in Forks had found out about the wolves.

"Have they offered yet?" he asked.

Bella laughed. "You really have to start giving me some context, here. Have they offered what?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Have they offered to change Jess into one of them?"

"No." The answer came too quick, with too much force behind it. It left her feeling transparent, as if all of her thoughts were on display.

Jake always could see through her.

"But you're thinking of bringing it up, aren't you?" he asked.

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" Holding her breath, she paced away from him. Space, Embry had always told her, was important when the wolves got agitated. Never get too close during an argument—not even with Jake. "I can't just let her die."

"But you can let her become a murderer?"

She was back in that dream. She had to be. Everything in her wanted to shout, and all she could do was whisper. The Raiders were probably nearby, combing the forest for time travelers. As always, they were a gag shutting her mouth, a rope binding her wrists.

"I know, okay?" she said. "I know what it'll mean for her. I decided a long time ago that I'd only consider it as an absolute last resort."

"You shouldn't consider it at all." A tree bore the brunt of his frustration, its branches shivering when his hand connected with its trunk. "Do you really want to be responsible for her killing someone else's Jessica?"

Hypocrite, her mind shrieked. Without giving herself time to think about it, she let her mouth form the words, "The Raiders are someone else's Jessica."

He carried on as if he hadn't heard her, but the tremor that shot through his body made her retreat further. "What'll happen to you, huh? The bloodsuckers have to either kill or change any human who finds out about them. Tanya told m—"

"God, Jake, I know." Angry tears burned their way through her defenses, cracking her voice. "You think I want this? I'm sorry. I'm doing everything I fucking can to keep her human and make her better, but it's not working."

"Well, I haven't been giving her my blood all this time just so you can turn her into my enemy." Something like triumph squared his shoulders, even as his scowl softened. He'd always hated seeing her cry. "Speaking of which, have you thought about that? She's had a lot of my blood over the past couple of years. What if it changed her in some way? My blood doesn't mix well with venom."

"It's not like she heals on her own." Dashing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Bella took a few deep breaths. "Wouldn't they be able to smell it if she was different, somehow?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

A glance at her watch provided her with an escape route from the woods—from this conversation. "I should get back before they start worrying," she said. "See you later."

"Yeah. Later."

Jake waited until she turned around before he sprinted to catch up and pulled her into a quick hug. "You'll find a cure," he said: a peace offering and a promise. "All right? I know you will."

At least one of them thought so.

Bella kissed his cheek, ran back to her truck, and drove toward home, willing her face to stop showing the blotchy evidence of recent tears. Thankfully, no one back at the trailer park stared or asked questions. Rosalie and Garrett didn't so much as glance up from their conversation when Bella hopped out of her truck.

"And while we're on the subject, what was that, earlier?" Rosalie asked. Her hands fluttered between jobs as if they didn't know what to do with themselves outside the lab. "Are you trying to break your own heart?"

"No," Garrett said. "Are you?" When Rosalie's only response was a glare, he added, "That was me trying to change her mind."

Bella paused, teetering on the edge of asking what he meant, then decided to temporarily channel Scarlett O'Hara. She would think about everything later. With too many worries still clamoring for attention, she went inside and immersed herself in a modified version of her daily therapy. The sizzle of bacon and the clunk of toast popping up again and again banished unwanted thoughts. The appearance of Edward, rosy-cheeked from cold, only added to the effect. With him there, helping out and standing close, her cramped, dingy kitchen felt more like Rosalie's.

Each sandwich received only a sliver of bacon, though she wanted to add more. She couldn't let on that she had extra food. After carrying the first batch out to the neighbors, she returned to find Jessica sitting on the counter and buttering toast while Edward took care of the bacon and eggs. As soon as Jessica looked up, she frowned and touched Bella's cheek in a silent question.

Bella shook her head. Even if she could have rehashed the reason for her tears with Edward listening in, she wouldn't have wanted to.

"Tsk," Bella said, nudging Edward over with a bump of her hip against his. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and already you're cooking with someone else."

"Can you blame him?" Jessica asked, waving a hand at her pajama-clad body and messy hair. "I mean, how could he resist this?"

"Mhm. Floozies, the both of you."

While Bella prodded at the bacon with a fork, a smiling Edward slipped an arm around her waist. She let it sit there, warm and solid and comforting.

"So," Bella said. "Since when do you and Garrett kiss?"

"I don't know what you heard," Edward said, his breath tickling her neck, "but he's not my type."

Bella swatted his hand as he tried to steal some bacon, but she gave in when he pouted. "Sure he's not. I've seen you watch him climb the scaffolding. But I was actually asking Jess this time."

"Since, um, today, I guess," Jessica said with a smirk.

"Hmm." Bella gave the bacon another poke. The grease popped and splattered, attacking her arm while she pondered her next words. "Any idea what he could be trying to change your mind about?"

"Anal," Jessica said without missing a beat.

Edward didn't quite manage to smother his surprised cough of laughter. Through her own amusement, Bella announced that it was well past time for Jessica's ointment. Leaving Edward in charge of the cooking, she led Jessica to the bathroom.

"Seriously, Jess," Bella whispered once they were alone.

"Seriously, I don't know what you mean. Garrett hasn't tried to change my mind about anything."

With her chin raised, Jessica shrugged out of her pajamas and perched on the shower stool. Bella decided to let it go. Later, she would ask Garrett.

"Wait," Jessica said as Bella dabbed the first blob of ointment onto her back. "You went to the lab, right?"

"Yeah."

This was apparently the wrong answer. Jessica put her hands on her hips and said, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Oh, my God." Jessica threw her hands in the air. "It's like you don't know me at all. I know there was a storm last night, but even when disaster strikes, we have to remember our priorities."

"What are you talking about?"

"Woman, where is my cupcake?"