A/N: Early post, since I forgot I'll be out of town this weekend. Thank you to thimbles, StoryPainter, and GetDrunkOnVictory: pre-reader and betas for this chapter, respectively. And thank you for reading. :) I'm afraid the next update is going to take 3 weeks instead of the usual 2 – busy time of year and all. The next chapter should be posted on December 30th.

Over the Mountains and Over the Waves

Bracing her hands on her hips, Bella surveyed the trailer park. Every storm brought at least one confused soul forward from the past, but all of the faces she saw were familiar. No new time travelers stared back at her.

Over the course of the day much of the debris had been cleared. Even Jessica insisted on helping out as much as she could, banding together with a few of the younger neighborhood kids to paint a new sign for the entrance of the park. Giggling, Jessica leaned over and let one of the little boys paint a dot of blue on the end of her nose before doing the same to him.

Like Bella, Garrett watched the scene from a distance, smiling to himself. Since he was standing on his own, Bella decided to approach him. The crunch crunch crunch of gravel under her feet didn't make him turn his attention to her, nor did the question that forced its way out.

"What has you wanting to change Jessica's mind?" she asked.

Instead of answering right away, he picked up a jagged piece of siding and threw it into a dumpster. The bending of the metal made a noise like stage thunder.

"Heard that, did you?" Finally looking at her, he swiped the back of his hand across his dry forehead. "Did you ask her about it?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Feigned ignorance."

"Hmm." Removing the gloves he didn't need, he placed a hand on her shoulder. The weight and temperature of it sent a chill through her: the polar opposite of his sad, gentle smile. "If you're going to ask one of us, I'm not your guy."

He left it at that, and she let him. What she wanted to do was throw more questions out until he answered one. Did he offer to change Jessica, and she turned him down? Or was it the other way around? Did she ask to be changed, and now he was trying to convince her to remain human? The kisses seemed to point to the former conclusion. Not to mention that Jessica grew up surrounded by wolves whose opinions about vampires were as unchanging as the vampires themselves.

Perhaps it was something simpler, less terrifying. Those kisses could've been Garrett's attempt to change her mind about being with him. In an effort to spare his heart, she could've said no. But why would Jessica keep that a secret?

An ache stretched across Bella's shoulders as she dived back into work. Bending to pick up some of Mrs. Ryan's broken garden gnomes made her lower back protest. The longest, busiest shift at the bar was preferable to this.

Though she still couldn't see it through the clouds and lingering wisps of smoke, the sun began to set. A few feet away, Edward stopped, rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. Shoulders sagging, he let his head droop. To Bella, he looked like he'd been beaten before the battle had really begun. He'd been working so hard. After the night he had, what he needed was rest or, at the very least, a distraction.

Making eye contact with Rosalie, Bella nodded toward Jessica in a silent request. Look after her. If she voiced it aloud, it'd only annoy Jessica and bring on claims of being able to take care of herself. Rosalie nodded. Message received. With that, Bella went to Edward and touched one of those defeated shoulders.

"I think it's time to quit for the day," she said. "It's getting dark."

"There's still a few—"

"I know, but I really need a break from all of this. Come on." Squeezing his arm, she smiled. "Keep me company?"

He gave in. After fetching her bag from the hook by her front door, Bella took his hand and set her feet on auto-pilot. Once they reached the paved road that would lead them into town, a few unbroken street lights flickered to life. Their glows warred with each other and the headlights of the few cars that rattled past, casting long shadows in different directions—as if Bella and Edward's twins walked a few steps behind them. The cold that had temporarily melted during the afternoon seeped back in, curling around them and quickening their steps.

He didn't ask where they were going—didn't say anything at all. His pace matched hers, never flagging or pausing for breath. In the descending darkness, without the violent flash of the storm making him bend, he seemed healthy: a pre-Surge man out for a walk with a friend. Normal.

Bella looked up at the gray ceiling of clouds—at the stars she couldn't see. For a moment, there was only the silence, the approaching night, and the gloved hand clasped in hers. It was crazy, but in that second, she thought they could run. They could pump their joined arms and pound their feet against the cracked asphalt until they found somewhere new—somewhere untouched by orange lights and red scars.

It was only a fleeting daydream, but it made the icy weight of guilt drop into her stomach. Jessica hadn't featured in her imaginary flight plan, except as one of the problems to leave behind. How could she think of her as a burden, even for an instant?

Edward squeezed her fingers tighter, like he knew. Without releasing him, she reached into her bag with her free hand. Ten or eleven key chains with souvenirs from her old life jangled together as she unlocked the bar: a smiley face with chipped paint from Charlie, Renee's wedding ring, a tattered leather flower from Embry, one half of a "best friends forever" heart from a nine-year-old Jessica.

Flipping on the overhead lights inside the bar made Bella groan. One of the windows was broken. It was barred, so no one had looted the place, but everything had blown around. Tables had toppled. Chair legs had cracked. Bottles and shot glasses had shattered. The phone that used to hang on the wall behind the bar was in pieces. In between the splinters and the shards, pools of alcohol had dried on the floor, leaving behind only the eye-watering scent of bathtub gin and the stickiness of mead. Edward helped Bella cover the busted window, using pieces of what had once been a table to temporarily stand in for the glass.

"Thanks," she said. "Looks like we're going to have a lot of fun at work tomorrow. Wait here for just a sec, okay? I'll be right back."

Taking extra care to avoid cutting herself, Bella picked her way through the rubble to the kitchen. Things were less of a wreck there; the closet where they kept crates full of bottled mead had a dent in the door, but its contents were intact. After sliding one of the bottles into a paper bag, she left the cash for it trapped beneath one of its mates. The back of one of their old menus provided a surface for the note of explanation she scribbled out to Emmett and Garrett, signed with her first initial followed by a flurry of X's and O's.

"I was going to suggest we hang out here, but maybe that's not the greatest idea," she said as she made her way back to Edward. "Well, even if things weren't a mess, if we left the light on for too long, someone would probably show up, wanting me to let them in and pour them a drink."

Edward directed his smile at the stool that was Adam's favorite: it was still standing. "Adam might do just that, in spite of everything. He'd call this a little clutter and say it didn't bother him."

"Don't I know it. He's like Jess and cupcakes. Anyway, ready?"

He nodded. At the last minute, she thought to turn the thermostat down, so Emmett and Garrett wouldn't be paying to heat the parking lot. Once the door was locked behind them and her jumble of keys was back in her bag, Edward was the one who linked their hands back together.

Bella led him to Till Taylor Park: a patch of overgrown weeds a few blocks from the boarding house. A rusted old hunk of something that looked like it used to be a miniature covered wagon lurked in the bushes, just like always. Aside from the tree limbs scattered everywhere, everything about the park was as she remembered it from before the storm.

Ignoring the benches and picnic tables, Bella climbed the jungle gym and made herself comfortable at the top of the plastic slide. After a moment of hesitation, Edward pulled himself up the rope ladder and sat behind her, spreading his legs so her hips were between his knees, like they were a couple of kids about to go down the slide together. Smiling at him over her shoulder, she opened the bottle. It was one of the drier meads. Only a hint of honey sweetness tingled over her tongue and warmed her belly.

"Drinking from a paper bag in the park," she said as she passed the mead to him. "I feel fourteen again."

He laughed, tipping his head back to take a few swigs before he responded. "Somehow, I can't picture you as a rebellious teenager."

"Mm, probably because I wasn't. This is the first time I've ever done this. My dad was a cop. The closest I ever got as a teenager was drinking this horrible, home-brewed beer in Jessica's bedroom when her mother was away visiting her aunt." Grimacing, she clutched her stomach at the memory. "It was awful. For some ungodly reason, we decided to mix it with Hawaiian punch. I threw up in her old toy box."

His mouth split into a grin wide enough to show the crinkly lines at the corners of his eyes: battle scars, in a way. Evidence that against all odds, he'd survived long enough to start to develop crow's feet. The paper rustled as she accepted the bottle back from him.

"What about you?" she asked after taking a sip. "What were you like as a kid?"

Her neck was starting to get a crick from watching him over her shoulder, but she didn't look away.

"Hmm." Tapping his fingers against the edge of the slide, he let out a mead-scented, smiling sigh. "Kind of a terror, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When my first foster mom was still alive, I wasn't as bad, but once she passed... well. Yeah. A terror."

A laughing conversation held through a haze of smoke and noise floated back to her. He'd once told her he was good at fighting.

"I'm not convinced," she said, walking her feet up the slide and hugging her knees to her chest.

"No?"

"Nope. I'll have to see proof of this alleged terrorism."

His lips lingered on the bottle when he took it back—lingered where her mouth had just been. "Still willing to bet on me against the Raiders?" he asked.

"Always." Leaning back, she bumped her elbow against his arm. "All the same, try not to get us run out of town just to prove a point, okay?"

He chuckled. "I'll do my best."

As the level of mead in the bottle inched lower and lower, Bella started feeling woozy and relaxed. They watched a squirrel hop onto the jungle gym without displaying a glimmer of fear at their presence, which led to a debate about whether they should worry about rabies. Edward drained the last few drops of mead then scooted forward until both he and Bella went whooshing down the slide. They collapsed in a heap at the bottom, his chin digging into the small of her back. Laughing, he rolled to his side and gave her the most genuine grin she'd seen from him all day. Something bright and beautiful within her wanted to find a way to make him always look at her like that.

Bella froze, stopping those thoughts. She tried to remind herself that unless she and Carlisle could make a breakthrough, Edward's future looked bleak. Loving one person with Margaret Brown Syndrome was enough heartbreak. She didn't need to add another.

But logic couldn't quite scare away her smile, nor could it dissuade her from leaning over him on the cold grass. Danger skimmed his fingers down her sides and settled his hands on her waist. Without giving herself too much time to think, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

Scrambling to her feet before she could catch his reaction, she ran toward the swing set. The head start didn't help once Edward began to chase her. He was both faster and not half as tipsy, so he reached the target first. With his arms outstretched like he was body surfing, he swung on his stomach. When she claimed the swing next to him, making half-hearted accusations of cheating, he shifted to a sitting position, kicked off, and pumped his legs.

As they went higher, he told her about the swing his father—his real father—had built for him when he was a kid: a wooden plank suspended from a tree branch with a pair of ropes. Like all children, he believed that if he tried hard enough, he could swing all the way around.

At the top of her arc, Bella felt weightless, like she would live his childhood dream and wrap the chains around the bar. The swing set rocked, its legs hopping up as if it wanted to join in on the fun.

Edward slowed just enough to take a flying leap. Bella's heart jumped with him, taking up residence in her throat as she waited for him to land. No bones were broken, but he didn't manage to keep his balance. Waving at her from the ground, he claimed nothing was hurt except his pride.

"I haven't done that in years," he said. "I'm a bit rusty."

"The alcohol probably doesn't help."

"Blasphemy. Don't you know alcohol makes everyone more charming and coordinated?"

Bella's laugh rang out, leaving her feeling weightless all over again. "Yeah, I work in a bar, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. So? Are you going to jump, or what?"

Dragging her feet in the sawdust, she brought herself closer to earth before she let go of the chains and made the leap. For the space of one giddy breath, she flew. The landing sent a jolt up to her knees, but she didn't topple over the way Edward had.

"See?" he said, standing and dusting himself off. "More coordinated. We should probably get home, though. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow." Pausing, he jerked his head in the direction of the boarding house. "Do you want to use the phone in my room if the lines are up? You could call someone to come get you. It's pretty cold out here."

He left the rest of his thoughts unspoken, but she knew. Her own mind tacked on the words: and you shouldn't walk home alone at this hour.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "Thanks."

The boarding house was done up in shabby, pre-Surge fabrics that showed every year of their age, like a stubborn old man clinging to the past. Faded murals of cowboys decorated crumbly brick walls. Nothing but the boarded windows suggested a recent storm.

Edward led her down the hall to a room with a twin bed, an antique dresser, a chipped porcelain sink, and an old radio. A few of his shirts were draped over a wooden drying rack, scenting the air with crisp lemon. With a nod toward the phone, he started folding his clothes, almost stepping into the bathroom to give her privacy. Amazingly, a dial tone hummed in Bella's ear. The lines usually went down for days after a bad storm. She dialed her own number; Rosalie was probably still there.

"Hello?" a male voice said on the other end.

Bella blinked. "Garrett?"

He sounded out of breath. Could vampires be out of breath?

"Yeah. Is everything okay?"

"Um. Yeah. Fine. Well, the bar is a mess, but the mead is still good. I left money. I'm in Edward's room, and... uh. Could you please pick me up, maybe? I can walk if you'd rather get back to, um, whatever."

Voices muffled by a hand over the receiver followed her request: Jessica asking what was going on, Garrett replying with a laugh that Bella was drunk.

"Of course," he said, his voice once again clear. "Give me about ten minutes."

After she hung up, Edward emerged with two glasses of water.

"Thanks, by the way," he said, standing close. "I needed this. Hope we don't regret it tomorrow."

"Nah." Letting the alcohol-induced boldness carry her away, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek again. "We won't."

.

.

.

Slumping down on the couch, Bella rested her feet in Jessica's lap. The room was spinning more than it should. She wasn't that tipsy.

"Jessie?" she said.

"Yes, drunkface?"

"Did Garrett offer to change you?"

"Huh?" After a pause, a smooth-skinned hand patted Bella's ankle. "How could he do that, when he doesn't even know that I know what he is?"

Bella snuggled deeper into the musty cushions and spoke through a yawn. "Please. They so know that we know. Either that, or they think we're fantastically stupid."

"We need to find a different word for 'know.' This conversation is getting confusing."

Bella snorted out a laugh and gave Jessica's arm a shove with her toes.

"It hasn't come up," Jessica said. A smirk pulled at her mouth. "Hey, speaking of up, do you think vampire guys can get—"

Bella cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Gah. I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Why the hell not? It's an important question. Right up there with the existence of God and why the sky is blue and stuff."

"Mm, clearly. It's the sort of things philosophers would spend hours questioning, if they knew vampires existed."

"I think, therefore Garrett and Emmett get boners." Jessica squinted. "Not particularly convincing, but I don't know any other philosophical type phrases." A loose thread in the upholstery left behind a glimpse of yellowed padding as Jessica tugged it free. "Do you think Edward knows?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Uh, he and Carlisle are good friends and all, but I don't think they're that close."

With a giggle, Jessica swatted Bella's leg. "I meant does he know about the vampires, you dork. Not about what's in their pants."

"Oh. I'm not sure. He didn't seem at all worried about using a knife in front of Mary, so maybe not."

Bella's eyelids grew heavier, dragging her into a light doze. Feathery warmth settled over her: a blanket, placed there by Jessica. Bella's last conscious thought before everything blurred into dreams was that Jessica would tell her about this Garrett thing in time. They'd never kept secrets from each other before.

And even if Garrett wasn't her guy, Bella still had Rose.