Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Stephenie Meyer does.

Bella's Point of View

I immediately sheathed my claws and stopped snarling. All the breath rushed out of my lungs as though I'd been punched. Edward continued to stare at me – a panther that was taller than him by about two feet – with complete shock and some horror written all over his face. I stared back at him, unable to move or think anything other than Oh, no.

We stared at each other for several minutes, both of us too frozen with shock to speak. Edward recovered enough to move his lips, though no sound came out – he still hadn't started breathing again. Bella? he mouthed.

I blinked and swallowed. Then very slowly, I nodded my large head, then kept my head down – I didn't want to see him become disgusted or afraid. I didn't want to see him walk away from me. The pain returned, and I had to take great, tremulous breaths to keep from exploding. The truth was out. I'd wanted to be honest with Edward for a long time – well, I'd told him the truth, in a manner of speaking. And now I was going to lose him for good.

I heard him take a step. But it was a step toward me, not a step away. He wasn't running away! A small amount of hope began to burn in my chest, and I stopped breathing for a moment, then forced myself to draw another breath in, to keep calm. I couldn't afford to do anything wrong now. He took another step forward, then another, and another, until he was right in front of me, so close that, even with my head bowed, I could see his chest and legs. I unconsciously flattened my ears against my skull in a silent Cat apology, expecting anger. But I felt Edward's cool hand rest lightly on the top of my head. He stayed like that for a second, the slowly started to comb his long fingers through my fur. I was trembling – with fear that he would suddenly realize that I was a monster and run away, and with joy that, for now, at least, he didn't seem to hate me. Still moving very slowly, he slid his hand down until it was under my chin, then carefully raised my head, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

He looked deeply into my eyes, like he was searching for proof that I was indeed Bella. Even though I knew he couldn't hear me, I started to silently plead with him. I'm still me, I thought. I'm still Bella.

Edward exhaled sharply. "Bella," he repeated softly. This time it wasn't a question; more of a shocked realization.

I made a soft whining sound, a timid question in Cat-speak. Are you angry?

Edward seemed to understand, in a way. He took a deep breath and asked, "Could you change back? I would like to talk to you." He was sure to keep his voice very soothing, like I was an animal he didn't want to spook. I didn't blame him. But he wanted to talk. He would have questions, questions that I was afraid to answer. I hesitated, but then breathed deeply and reached for my In Between form, the form Edward had always seen me in. I owed him answers.

And then I was sitting on the ground, my human shaped legs crossed Indian style and my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. Edward gasped again when he saw me change, and I pulled my chin away from his hand, looking away from him. Very softly, meaning every word, I whispered, "I'm sorry." Tears started to build in my eyes, and I tried to blink them back, but one escaped and slid down my cheek.

Before I could wipe it away myself, Edward had sat down beside me and gently brushed the tear away with his fingertips. He gently turned my head toward him, but I kept my eyes down. "Bella," he said quietly, "look at me."

I closed my eyes instead. "I'm afraid," I whispered.

Edward's voice was sad. "Of me?"

I shook my head fiercely, more tears running down my face. "No, not of you." Never of you, I thought. "I'm afraid that you'll hate me."

Edward cupped my face in his cold, marble-hard hands. For all their hardness, no hands could have been more gentle. "I will never hate you," he promised, his voice still soft, but sure. Then it turned pleading. "Please, look at me." I trusted him to keep his promise. So I slowly opened my eyes and looked up into his face. And his eyes held no hatred, no disgust. They were so filled with gentle concern and care for me that a few more tears slipped past my control. Edward wiped them all away. We just looked at each other for another immeasurable space of time, then he started to ask his questions. The first one was one I'd been expecting. "What are you?" Edward asked.

I drew in a shaky breath. Time to come clean. "We call ourselves Cats," I whispered. "We're shape shifters."

Edward chuckled, one strained laugh. "Yes, I noticed," he remarked, gently teasing. Then, "How old are you?"

Of all the questions to ask when you find out that the girl who has been living in you house is a shape shifter! I looked up at Edward in puzzlement. "Why do you want to know that?" I asked.

He smiled slightly. "Because you're an experienced fighter, and while you look like a teenager, you certainly don't act like one."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "I should hope not, but I actually am a teenager – I'll be eighteen in September." Then I sighed. "As for why I don't act my age, you have to grow up fast in my world."

Edward cocked his head slightly. "Why?"

I shrugged wearily. "I told you that I was a soldier. In my world, after a child turns four or five, he or she starts training. At age seven it is assumed that a child has learned enough to take care of itself, and the child is put on active duty – and that means fighting and killing." I felt bitterness twist my expression. "And once you start killing, you just don't go back to being a carefree child."

Edward's face was strained. "This happened to you?"

"Of course," I answered. Then I added, mostly to myself, "But I had it a little harder than most."

"Why?" Edward asked.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. "Battle is scary. Most children have their parents to comfort them. I sort of had to keep myself afloat on my own."

Edward shook his head, his eyes far away. "The first night you came here, you said that if you went back to your family your mother would kill you," he recalled.

I laughed harshly. "Oh, yes. My darling mother. She's hated me since I was born."

Edward frowned. "I don't understand," he admitted.

I chuckled darkly. "Oh, it all started with this huge pride scandal – my mother, Renee, the only daughter of the pride leader, and therefore the only heir, had a love affair with a human man named Charles Swan. She claimed to be in love with him, and even went so far as to marry him. But three months after they married, Renee's father, the pride leader at that time, was killed. So Renee left Charles Swan and took command of her father's pride. But," I continued, my voice lowering, "not before she became pregnant with me."

Edward's frown deepened. "What difference does that make? You're still her daughter."

I tilted my head back to look at the treetops, wishing that I could see the stars. "I was the result of her greatest indiscretion, a constant reminder that she'd screwed up," I explained. "My mother doesn't like to screw up, and she likes it even less when people remind her of times when she screwed up. So she hates me. And the rest of the pride hates me because of something I had no power over – as if I could have chosen who my father was going to be."

"What does who your father was matter?" he asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

"He was a human," I reminded him. "I guess my pride thought that made me weaker than they were – less of a Cat, which is ridiculous, because I'm not the first half-blood, and the Cat gene is always dominant. But also," I added, "the members of a pride are born and raised to be very close to their pride mates – mentally." I searched my mind for a way to explain. "You know about the Quileutes, right? I don't see how you couldn't know, living so close to them."

"If you mean the gene that allows them to turn into rather large wolves, then yes, my family and I know about them," Edward replied.

"Well, when they're in their wolf forms, they can hear each other's thoughts, share each other's minds," I began.

Edward nodded. "I know."

"You know?" I repeated, surprised. "How did you know? I can't see the Quileutes telling you – they hate your kind."

"No, they didn't exactly tell me – not intentionally, at least," Edward elaborated. Then he cleared his throat. "I read their minds."

My mind went blank with shock. Then, strengthening the mental shield around my mind, I asked warily, "You can do that?"

Edward nodded, scrutinizing my expression. "Ever since my new birth. Vampires, humans, werewolves – I can hear all of their thoughts without even trying. I just hear them, as if they were spoken out lout. You, though," he murmured, his eyes boring into mine, "are a mystery. I can't hear anything from you – not a whisper – ever. Not even when I actually try." He sighed, and shook his head, his eyes chagrined. "It's very frustrating." I tried not to laugh at his expression, but a small choked giggle made its way out of my throat anyway. Edward glanced at me, a combination of wry humor and exasperation on his face, and prompted me to continue my story. "So, what about the Quileute wolves?"

I got back on topic. "Well, Cats can hear each other's thoughts no matter what form we're in. The result is a mental closeness that the Quileutes can never achieve. To be a part of everyone's mind, all the time..... sometimes it gets hard to distinguish your feelings from the feelings of another pride mate, which can be good – prides are rarely disunited."

"But at the same time," Edward concluded, understanding flashing in his eyes, "you mother's feelings about you would taint the opinions of the other pride members."

I smirked. "Crappy luck, huh?"

Edward didn't share my humor. "So you had no one growing up at all?" he asked sadly.

A half-formed memory filled my mind – a sweet, heart-shaped face framed by curly, dark blond hair. Hazel eyes smiling down at me. "No – a few people of the pride resisted the hate that came from Renee's mind. One was named Amelia. She was a half-blood, too." Another memory started to surface – a sining voice that wasn't exactly pretty, but was loving enough to be beautiful. "She used to sing me to sleep."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't sleep."

"Cat children sleep and eat until about age fifteen because their child bodies need the energy to grow," I explained. "After a certain point it no longer becomes necessary. For most, their bodies stop aging about three to five years later – with the usual early and late bloomers. I've reached that point – this is as old as I will every look." I sighed. "Anyway, Amelia died when I was two. But I had my aunt, on my mother's side, ironically, and her husband, and I had my cousin, Brittany, and there was Brian and Nicole, too. And I'm lucky – all of them except Amelia and my aunt and uncle are still alive."

"How did Amelia and your aunt and uncle die?" Edward asked.

I shrugged. "In battle – the way most Cats who live like we do die."

"I've heard you mention battle several times," Edward remarked, "and you've said that you were a soldier, but I've yet to hear what exactly your kind fights against."

I winced, and looked away. This was one of the hard answers. "Don't you know?" I whispered. I held my arms out in front of me, displaying the scars that dotted my hands and forearms – bite marks, from vampire teeth.

There was silence for a moment. Then, "Oh," Edward said, his voice subdued. "I see. You've been fighting and killing vampires for your whole life." He was quiet for another minute, but then he asked, "So why did you agree to stay with us, a family of seven vampires?"

I shook my head, remembering my confusion. "That was a question I asked myself a lot for the first few days I stayed with you. I still don't know completely. By all rights, I should hate and be afraid of you and your family – I've almost been killed by vampires several times, and people I've cared about have been killed by vampires..... but I don't." I studied Edward's face, his logic-defying eyes especially. "I think it's because you're not like the others of you kind. You've made a conscious effort to..... well, not be vampires." I grinned. "And Esme was kinder to me than almost anyone has ever been. That really made me realize just how different you were."

Edward laughed. "I'll have to thank her for inadvertently saving us from a warrior Cat."

I laughed with him. "Any more questions?" I asked.

Edward's smile vanished. I sobered in response. "Tell me what happened to your back," he said.

Oh. I thought. That's not so bad. His expression had made me worry that he was going to ask some terrible question. But this one would be hard to explain – he wouldn't understand. I sighed. "You probably won't understand," I warned. "The scars on my back are called Marks. I know that when Esme first saw them, she thought someone had tortured me or something, but it's not like that." I hesitated.

"What?" Edward demanded.

"This is going to make Cats sound like sadistic barbarians," I muttered, but continued anyway. "I received my Marks willingly."

I swear, even the birds and animals in the forest around us went dead silent. Edward's eyes slowly widened. "Willingly?" Edward repeated, sounding dazed. "You..... let someone burn a pattern onto your back?"

I started to get defensive. "The Marks are the highest honor a Cat can receive. They signify bravery, skill, intelligence, and strength. It's like...." I trailed off, trying to find a suitable comparison. "It's like the Medal of Honor, a black belt, a Ph. D., and a Purple Heart all rolled into one."

"But burning it into the skin?" Edward snapped, his eyes blazing. "A little extreme, Bella, don't you think?"

I gave him a feral grin. "No. Medals can be stolen. Certificates can be burned. Our way preserves it no matter what – and the scars show in both of my forms, human and Cat. This way, they can never be erased."

Edward glared at me. "And the pain?"

I gestured dismissively. "That's a part of the test. If you can't handle pain, you don't deserve the Marks."

Edward shook his head. "And you passed the test?"

I turned away from him and lifted the hem of my shirt, showing him my completed Marks. "Obviously."

Then, to my shock, I felt Edward's cold fingertip tracing one of the lines of my Marks, looping across my ribcage, barely touching me, but still making my every nerve ending feel like a live wire. I froze for a second before reality came crashing back down on me. Edward's knowing the truth didn't change anything. I'd still made a promise to Darren. I still couldn't be with the beautiful vampire whose hand was following the pattern of my Marks. The old pain returned, and I cringed away from Edward's hand.

"Do you want to know anything else?" I asked, the words coming out a harsher than I'd intended.

Edward's hand dropped dejectedly to his side, but he nodded. "Who is the girl?"

A grip of ice tightened around my heart, so cold it burned. "The girl?" I rasped, as if I didn't know who he was talking about. But of course I knew. Edward knew that. He waited.

"Sarah," I breathed, closing my eyes and seeing her face behind my eyelids. "My little sister." I felt tears streak down my face, but this time I let them fall. I was tired of not crying.

"Oh," Edward whispered. "Oh, Bella, I'm sorry." And just like he had before, he started to wipe my tears away. "What happened?"

I felt my lips unconsciously curl up into a snarl. "You remember the three vampires I was looking for?" I knew he did – vampires don't forget. "They murdered her." I opened my eyes – Edward wasn't startled by the fury in them. He just looked pained for me. The pain over my sister's death overwhelmed the anger I felt toward her killers. "She was eight!" I whispered, my voice cracking. "They knew she was just a child. And they killed her anyway."

I shook my head sharply. I didn't need to have another breakdown. "Any more questions?" I asked, trying to return to a light tone of voice.

Edward didn't. In fact, if anything, the pain in his eyes increased. "Just one." And this time, he looked away. He closed his eyes like he was expecting a horrible answer. "Who is the boy?"

This time I really didn't know who he was talking about. "Who?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "The boy," he repeated. "Light hair and eyes. Darren." He paused, then continued, his voice barely audible. "The boy Alice thinks you love."

Oh. Darren. Oh. This was not something I'd wanted him to ask. It was too close to the conflict I was feeling, and the promise I'd made. But I knew I was hurting Edward. I knew I had to answer. I took a deep breath before I began. "I met Darren about a year ago in Siberia. We almost killed each other – he was a werewolf." Edward's eyes flashed open, and his mouth tightened before he closed his eyes again. I took this as permission to continue. "He was..... kind," I said haltingly. "Funny. I....." I stopped and, without even thinking about it, reached out and touched Edward's shoulder. His head whipped around, and he looked at me with wide, shocked eyes. I suddenly realized that, besides when I'd taken his hand when we danced, this was the first time I had actually taken initiative and touched him. I didn't draw back. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I know it hurts. It hurts me, too. Yes, I loved Darren, but he died eight months ago."

Edward's expression twisted in pain. He reached up and stroked my cheek. "People can love people after death," he told me softly. "I understand."

The way he said it..... it sounded like he was apologizing – or saying goodbye. It frightened me. "No," I said desperately, "you don't, because I -" I stopped myself before I could do even more damage. Telling him that I loved him, too, more than I'd loved Darren, would only hurt him more, because that wouldn't change the promise I'd made.

Edward waited for me to continue, but when he saw that I couldn't, he smiled. It was a terrible smile, full of heartbreak. I felt my heart break in response, and fresh tears filled my eyes, spilled over onto my cheeks. He took my face between his hands. "I love you," he breathed, like he just wanted to say it once out loud. "I can see that you can't..... I understand. It's all right," he whispered.

No, I thought in anguish. It isn't. I love you! But I promised Darren, and I loved him, too, and I can't break my promise to him! I'm sorry! I made that promise before I knew that I loved you! If I'd known, I wouldn't have made it!

And then, I heard something that completely shocked me – as clearly as though he were standing right beside me, I could hear Darren's voice in my mind. Be happy.

My heart twisted agonizingly in my chest. But I promised! I replied silently. I can't break it!

You wouldn't be breaking your promise to me– I'm releasing you of it.

But – I started to argue, but Darren's voice cut me off.

Bella, he said gently. I can't be with you – not anymore. But he can. He loves you. You love him. Be happy, Bella. I'm gone – let me go.

And, slowly, I could feel the part of me that had held so tightly onto Darren's memory – the part of me that refused to let me be with Edward – start to loosen its death-grip. It was painful, but the peace it brought was so much greater than the pain. I wouldn't have been able to be with Edward, love him in good conscience, when a part of me still mourned for someone else – I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. But now.....

I faintly, as if from a great distance, heard Darren's laugh. Thank you, I told him.

And then I let Darren go. I'd always love him.... in a way. But it wasn't a crime to move on, to find new love, and to be happy again. I could accept that now.

So I looked up at Edward, who was just starting to let his hands drop from my face – only a second had passed – and I covered his hands with my own, holding them in place. Edward's eyes became confused, and then, when he saw the peace in my eyes, the lack of conflict, they became fiercely hopeful. It made me smile. And I told him what I'd been wanting to tell him for a while. "I may have loved Darren," I said, my voice strong and sure, "but that doesn't mean that I don't love you."

It took a couple seconds for my words to sink in. But when they did, Edward's face broke into the most joyful, jubilant smile, and his eyes glowed in such an incredible way that it took my breath away.

And then he kissed me. I hadn't been expecting it, and the shock and sweetness of that kiss hit my body like a wave. But then I wound my fingers into his bronze, messy hair, feeling the softness of it, and I kissed him back.

After we broke apart, panting, we stared at each other for a while with a combination of surprise and happiness on our faces, then simultaneously started laughing. "I hadn't planned to do that," Edward remarked after we'd caught our breath. He stood in one smooth, lithe movement and held his hand out to me.

Thrilled that I could take his hand without feeling guilty, I grasped his hand, and Edward helped me to my feet. "That's all right," I said lightly. "I didn't mind at all." Then I sighed and smiled wryly. "I guess I should probably explain everything to your family," I said.

"Probably," Edward agreed. "Especially since you'll be staying with us for good. If you want to, of course," he added hastily, looking worried. "I didn't mean to -"

I cut him off by otherwise occupying his lips. "If you want me, I'm staying," I informed him.

Edward laughed. "Well, that's settled, then." A wicked gleam started to shine in his eyes. "You know," he said casually, taking my hand and playing with my fingers, "I used to be the fastest runner in my family." He grinned. "I'm curious to see if that's changed."

I grinned back at him. "Race you back to the house?" I asked.

Edward laughed and let go of my hand. "You're on."

We took off running, and I stayed neck and neck with him for a little while, then moved faster and got ahead by about ten feet. Edward compensated, and I ran faster. So did he. He was fast – but I knew I could go even faster. "I have a question," I called as we ran.

"And what might that be?" he asked.

"Are you one of those men who can't stand losing to a girl?"

Edward laughed. "No, but if I say yes, will you let me win?"

"Nope!" I said. And then I kicked into high gear. I shot past him like a bullet – behind me, he gasped in surprise, then started full out sprinting. He was pretty fast – I was just faster. He was still five feet behind me when I jumped over the river that ran through the Cullens back yard. I tagged the window that made up the entire southern wall of the house just when he landed after jumping the river. I was grinning like a fool – this was the first time I'd really had fun in about a month. I could hear Emmett laughing from inside, and I grinned at him through the thick glass.

Edward walked to my side, a huge smile on his face. "You have no idea how good it feels to see you smile," he told me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I heard three gasps – Esme, Alice, and Rosalie were on the stairs, and had seen Edward's gesture. I smiled at them timidly as Edward and I walked toward the front door– all but Rosalie smiled back. Emmett was gaping open-mouthed. Jasper and Carlisle, who were playing chess, looked extremely pleased.

A sudden stab of nerves hit my stomach – I had to tell them what I was, and what my story was. Maybe not with as many details as I'd given Edward, but the general picture, at least.

As if he could feel my anxiety, Edward hugged me tightly. "It'll be fine," he promised. "Alice, Emmett, and Esme will still love you, Carlisle will ask you tons of questions, and when that's over, everything will go back to normal."

"Better than normal," I corrected, smiling at him. Then I took a deep breath. "All right," I said. "Let's get this over with."