A/N: My version of the conversation that takes place in Bella's room after Edward disables Bella's truck to keep her from going to La Push in Eclipse. Thanks for reading.

BPOV

The cold swirled in. I shivered and stepped back from the window. It wouldn't take him long to come in. Charlie still had the game on downstairs, so any sounds we made up here in my room would be drowned out by the television. He wouldn't need to wait for Charlie to go to bed.

I paced to my closet, then to my dresser. I picked up a book without seeing which one it was and immediately set it back down. I shouldn't be pacing in my cold room. I should be in La Push right now, talking with Jacob.

Why did it always take me so long to make a decision? If I hadn't wavered so long, I would have been on my way before Alice saw my intention. But I always had to think it through and debate with myself – and get so involved in my internal deliberation that I would forget Alice could see my future bouncing around like a pinball.

Not that it would have mattered. Even if I had decided earlier, Edward still would have been close enough to catch my speed-challenged truck long before I reached the La Push border.

I thought about what Edward had said in the truck while he was holding part of its engine, which he probably had reassembled by now. He didn't want me to go to La Push because he was scared of what could happen to me while I was outside of his reach and Alice's vision. And I understood his reasoning. I knew how it felt to think that something may happen to the one you loved before you could arrive to prevent it, to not know what was happening, to feel blind and helpless. I knew how it felt to know that at any second you could lose that person forever because you were close enough to save him but unable to reach him. I knew that he was trying to protect me – and so was Alice, for that matter.

But I didn't need to be protected from my own best friend.

I picked up another book and slammed it back down a little too roughly. I didn't need to be told what to do like a child. I didn't need to be confined to my house. I should be allowed to decide whom I could visit and when, without having my boyfriend tell me I couldn't, without having him physically restrain me from doing what I wanted.

And here I was, waiting for him to climb through my open bedroom window, because even as annoyed as I was with him, I couldn't make myself keep him out for one night. No wonder he couldn't understand when I wanted to act independently of him. I wasn't even capable of keeping a pane of glass between us.

There was a quiet sound at the window, but I didn't turn. He always entered silently, so I knew that he intentionally was making noise to let me know that he was there. But I didn't want to face him yet.

There was a pause. He didn't move away from the window, and I kept my gaze riveted to the cover of whatever book I had just put down. I still didn't know what it was.

Then, finally, he whispered, "Bella?"

His voice was almost pained. He knew that I was angry, and it upset him to have upset me. But he wasn't – wouldn't be – apologetic. He only would be understanding of my reaction. That wasn't what I wanted from him. Not right now. I traced my fingers blindly over the splashes of color on the book's cover, wishing I'd had the strength to keep the window closed tonight.

After another pause, he tried again, "Bella, love, I don't want you to be angry with me. But I will stay away tonight, if you don't want to see me."

More understanding. He didn't like that I was distancing myself from him, but he was respecting the space. And I always hated the space. With a sigh, I turned to face him, but I crossed my arms over my chest and gazed at him without a word, determined to keep myself away from him despite my intense desire to close the distance between us. I needed to do something tonight to show him I was my own person. No matter how much I hated it, or hated myself for hating it.

Edward's face was the picture of concern. He was relieved that I finally had turned to look at him; I could see that relief in his eyes. But he was tormented by the rift that was still evident between us. I hated seeing that look on his face. I hated causing that look. I curled my fingers around my ribs to keep myself still, and I thought of Jacob. My best friend, whom he was keeping me from seeing. And then, stronger than the urge to go to Edward's side, came the frustration and annoyance that I was still here to go to Edward because he had kept me here.

I almost smiled, proud of myself. I was holding on to my anger, even in the face of Edward's distress. And the anger actually was building again. Good.

For a long moment, we simply gazed at one another from opposite sides of the room. Edward's body had gone statue-still with stress as he waited for me to speak. I wondered absently if it would be possible for me to outlast him when he was like this, for me to keep quiet longer than an immortal to whom time meant very little.

It wasn't long before I learned that yes, I could.

His voice was low and strained when he begged, "Bella, please. Talk to me."

I drew in a breath to brace myself. To my surprise, my words came out steady and strong. "There's nothing I can say, Edward. You won't listen. You've made that very clear."

Edward frowned. "I listen, Bella. I listen to everything you say. But you don't know… You don't understand. You don't know the wolves—"

"I don't know the wolves? I practically lived at La Push for months. You and your family are the ones who don't know them. You have nothing to do with them. How can you—?" I cut myself off, shocked by my own outburst, and pulled in another breath. When I was collected again, I went on, "You're the one who doesn't understand. Who just… won't."

Edward still hadn't moved, but his eyes were wide with surprise at my sudden aggression. It was so rare for him to be stunned that I would have laughed if the circumstances were different. As it was, I took advantage of the opportunity. I steeled myself for what I was about to say and plowed on, "While you were… gone… He was there for me. All the time. He took care of me."

The surprise turned to pain in his eyes so quickly I blinked. "I'm just trying to keep you safe, Bella," he murmured.

"I know. But he kept me safe. I was never in danger with him. I know you can't believe that. You can't trust him. But I do. I'm asking you to trust me. Please, Edward," I beseeched, searching his face. "It's important to me. He's important to me."

Edward's face twisted. "Bella, I just… I can't. You are important to me, and I can't stand by and allow you to cross that line when I know what could happen, when I wouldn't be able to stop it, to even see it coming…." His voice faltered and almost dropped away. "I can't… lose you again. I can't let you risk it."

His eyes burned on mine. Every part of his body was rigid with stress. The memory of Italy, of our combined sense of loss, was clear on every plane of his features. I softened, remembering again how it felt to need to protect, but to be helpless to do so. I wasn't able to stop myself from going to him then. I crossed the room and stopped directly in front of him. My hand found his face, and I cradled his cheek in my palm. His fingers looped lightly around my wrist. But even as I touched him, as I stared into his anguished eyes, I held on to my argument. It was compulsion now, a pressure in my chest, and I wouldn't have been able to stop even if I had wanted to. "I know you're trying to take care of me," I told him quietly. "But if I want to 'risk it,' if I want to go, you have no right to stop me. You have no right to keep me prisoner just because you can."

The word hit him hard. "Prisoner…?" he echoed dully.

"How do you think I feel, not being allowed to leave my house? Being kept from going when I want to go by someone faster and stronger than I am?" I skimmed my thumb along his cheekbone as comprehension dawned on his features. Then I pulled my hand away and lifted my chin, preparing to be stubborn. "It's not fair, Edward. It's not fair for you to use your advantages against me. I'm… human." I muttered it like a curse. "And I can't possibly stand against you. And I don't want to have to. But you're not respecting my decisions, my ability to act as an independent person, someone with a brain who can act on her own choices and live her life. I know you want to protect me. But right now, you're stifling me." I straightened my spine in a proud gesture. "And you're insulting me."

"Insulting you?" Edward still looked pained…and baffled.

"I'm not stupid, Edward. I should be able to decide things for myself, not have you make the decisions for me just because you have the ability to enforce them."

There was a long silence as Edward struggled to find the words to reply. Finally he forced out, "I… I'm sorry, Bella, I just… I can't…."

I could see the war in his eyes, the lingering pain, and I suddenly was very, very weary. Making my point was more draining than I had imagined, and I was out of energy. "I know," I assured him. I took another step back and looked away. "I'm… tired, Edward. I don't want to fight with you. I want to go to bed."

His voice was lost, broken, when he whispered, "Do you want me to leave?"

I looked at him again, staring straight into his eyes. "No. I want you to stay," I told him honestly. "But I won't force you."

My final blow found its mark. His eyes changed again, and he still didn't move as I turned away from him, no longer able to look him in the face.

I didn't bother changing into my pajamas. I simply kicked off my shoes and crawled over the comforter to my pillow. A second later I heard the window close, and Edward tucked my quilt carefully around me.

There was a hesitation, and I reached out into the darkness. Edward's cold hand slid into mine, and he stretched out on top of the quilt beside me. I felt him tuck the cover more securely around me as I closed my eyes and buried my face in his chest. I didn't want to see the look in his eyes. "I love you, Edward," I mumbled into his shirt, reminding him that no matter what I'd said to him tonight, that fact hadn't changed.

His cheek rested against the top of my head. "I love you, Bella," he whispered, his arm tightening around me.

I slowly drifted off to sleep in his embrace, not sure what I had won tonight, but glad I had let him know how I felt, from my silence the moment he had climbed through the window to the gentle kiss on his chest that was my last conscious thought.