Deep breaths... and read the A/N at the end. Love you guys.

I don't own Twilight. More disclaimer in chapter 1.

Bella took a deep breath and gazed at the stars glowing through the dark of the window, combing her fingers through Edward's hair as he breathed into her neck. She'd never in her life experienced that before. Her erotic dreams paled in comparison and shame had kept her from doing much of anything down there, even when a racy paperback book made her squirm, heart racing.

Except now she felt funny and had the sudden urge to escape. She was lying to him. Not directly, but it was in the things not said, the secrets that, if he knew, would surely be the end of them. What kind of person was she, to experience something so wonderful and profound with him and then pretend that everything was okay? But then how could he really understand? How could he understand that she felt sick in her heart, that anger and guilt had infected her; that even now she was full of hate. Hatred for those boys, her sister, her mother, even for Phil. But mostly for herself.

"I can't believe you're even here, Isabella." Renee's face was red and swollen from crying. "You have no right to be here paying your respects."

Bella hugged her middle and choked out, "Please, Mama, M-mmama, I'm s-so s-sorry. I didn't mean… I d-didn't know…" She was an absolute mess, hair in strings, her cheeks shiny from tears and snot, a revolting contrast to the simple black sweater dress she wore. She'd tried so hard to clean herself up in time for her sister's funeral but she hadn't stopped crying for days. In a way, it made sense. She hadn't really cried in months, unless it during one of her nightmares. She'd finally figured that one out after waking up to wet pillows day after day.

Her mother stepped close to embrace her, fingernails sharp on her arms, even through the fabric. She bent down to her ear. "I should have you arrested," she hissed. "I don't know what you said but it killed her just the same as those pills you gave her. You always were jealous of your sister. But it backfired on you this time, didn't it? Now you have to live with the fact that you're a murderer, Isabella. You murdered your sister. What would your father think?" She backed away and started to sob. "My precious, precious baby Rose. My little girl."

Bella stared at her mother in horror. "You hate me," she whispered. "Do you? Mama, do you r-really? Hate me?"

Renee blinked and then shook her head, her face crumpling. "Oh, honey, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I'm just not sure I can be around you right now." She swallowed and dabbed her eyes. "I didn't mean those things I said." She suddenly grabbed Bella and hugged her tight, stroking her hair. "Isabella, oh baby, I didn't mean those things. Forgive me. I know it wasn't your fault. I don't what I'd do without you. You're all I have now."

Bella allowed her mother to squeeze her in a tight hug, feeling a bewildering mix of relief, disappointment and loss. Loss of who she'd believed her mother was, loss of innocence and childhood… something different than what those boys took from her months ago. For all of Bella's floundering at life, she was more of a grown-up than her own mother. She was truly all alone. And it was a revelation.

Bella jumped when Phil touched her arm. She hadn't seen him there.

Renee sniffed and patted her hair when she saw her husband. "You have to give me time to come to terms with what happened, Isabella. I still love you, baby, even after all this. You know that."

"Come on, Bella." Phil's compassionate eyes swam with tears as he pulled her away. "She's not herself, you know she's not. Just give her time." He waited a beat then asked, "are you going back to school?"

Bella stared at him blankly then shook her head.

Phil nodded. "I got the letter about your scholarship a few weeks ago. You know that you don't need that, right? I'll pay for you to go wherever you want to study."

"B-but Renee—"

"Don't worry about your mother. I'll take care of everything." Phil squeezed her hand but kept his distance, as if he sensed that she was two seconds away from bolting. "If you don't want my money, your father left a trust for you and …Rosie when you turned 18. Rosie was using hers to pay for her sorority but you can certainly use yours for whatever you feel like you need right now. It's not much but it'll tide you over."

"I don't want to go back."

"Okay honey, that's fine, whatever you think. But will you let me know what your plans are? Your mother will come around and I know she'll need you."

"Okay," she whispered, appeased. Time. Renee needed time. She could do that.

He pressed some money into her palm and patted her on the shoulder.

She stared at them as they walked into the church. She didn't follow.

One month later Bella called Phil's cell phone and explained that she'd found a cottage on the beach in a small Gulf coast community. The local gallery had agreed to sell some of her work, so could she please have the information about the trust? She told him it was peaceful and quiet there and that the people were nice. She wanted to rent so she could paint and get around to figuring out the rest of her life.

But Phil did better than that. He bought the little house for her outright, and put it in her name. He also sent the account number for the trust Charlie had left for her and mailed it in a separate envelope, for anything else she might need. Bella gave him the number of the pre-paid cell phone she'd gotten in case anyone needed her. Neither of them said Renee's name but they didn't have to. Bella didn't ask and Phil didn't offer.

Bella never heard from her mother. She figured that if Renee wanted to get in touch with her she'd know that Phil had her information, so she tried to be patient. She decided to give her mother six months. Exactly 180 days from her sister's funeral, the last time she'd seen or talked to Renee, she'd call to say… hello. Or something. She even marked it on her calendar. The weeks leading up to the big blue date circled in Sharpie on her kitchen wall were nerve-wracking; and she regretted making the reminder so big. What would she say when her mom answered? It was bound to be awkward, so Bella would try her best to keep up the conversation. Her mom would be proud of how well she was doing, she knew that much; her paintings in Angela's gallery were really popular. Renee was never into art very much, but anyone could appreciate the fact that Bella was actually making a living off her talents. Certainly, some days were peanut butter and jelly days, but overall she was doing well. She even had medical insurance and had started a retirement fund.

Plus, it was peak tourist season. Bella planned on offering Renee and Phil her bedroom if they wanted to visit, she didn't mind taking the couch. It'd been her big purchase after all, so it was a good one. Phil and Renee had so much money, Bella knew that; they could vacation anywhere they wanted. But surely they'd want to visit her, they'd be curious to see where she lived. She'd play up the relaxation angle. Summerside was very beautiful; it was quaint and quiet. Bella didn't know who wouldn't love visiting here. She'd tell them that she'd made a few friends. The nice lady that owned the grocery store always wanted to talk and then there was her neighbor, Peter, who was absolutely wonderful. Phil would love Peter. They could talk at the bar while she and Renee walked the beach. Just like old times.

And she was ready to talk. Painting wasn't doing the same distraction trick that it did when her dad had been killed. The nightmares never went away; they hadn't yet, anyway. It would be hard, so, so hard, to tell her mom about the night she was attacked. But she would. She had to or she would burst. Her mama would understand that it wasn't her fault. They would cry about it, and Renee would tell she loved her and maybe suggest they go talk to a therapist or something. This time Bella would be good, she'd go in that doctor's office and talk and Renee would see that Bella cared, and that Renee was wrong, before… because Bella did need someone. She really did. Sometimes it was hard to ask for help, but she'd promise her mom that she would be more open and not so closed off about her feelings.

Then maybe she would forgive her about Rosie. Maybe, just maybe, she'd understand that Bella didn't mean for that to happen. That she would live that horrible night at the lake house party over and over again if it meant that she could have her sister back.

When the blue-circle day arrived, she sat on her back porch after her morning swim, biting her nails down to the quick. She procrastinated, chatted with the neighbors, made Peter a batch of brownies, and cleaned her bathroom… again.

Finally, enough was enough. Her hand trembled, her stomach in knots as she held the phone, tracing the numbers before she actually pushed them in. Then, it was done, and she held the phone to her ear, wondering suddenly if she should leave a message in case it went to voicemail. She hadn't even thought of that possibility.

But when the line clicked open it wasn't for voicemail; it was a disconnection notice. She double-checked the number, thinking she'd probably misdialed, but the outcome was the same. Quickly, she tried Phil's number… it had worked a few months ago. But no, Phil's number had been turned off too. She waited another hour before she called her house in Jacksonville. When she realized her childhood phone number had been disconnected as well, her stomach sank, and she quickly dialed one of the neighbors. She knew Mrs. Leonard's number by heart, ever since she was five, when her daddy taught her things like how to dial 911 and what to do if she smelled smoke in the house.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Leonard?" Bella said softly. She hadn't talked to Mrs. Leonard in over a year, she realized.

"Bella? That you, dear?"

"Yes ma'am, it's me. How are you?"

"It's so good to hear your voice, honey. How's school?" Sweet Mrs. Leonard. She was a grandmother now.

"Um, school is fine," Bella lied. "Mrs. Leonard, I was calling because, well, I lost mom's new cell phone number and I was hoping—"

"Gracious, you tell your mama I've been trying to call her too. These people they sold the house to have put lawn chairs in the front. And they aren't those nice wooden ones neither; they're tacky looking, if you know what I mean."

Bella froze, dread prickling up her spine. "The… people? In our… house?"

"I told them the Neighborhood Home Association was going to be paying a visit if they didn't clean up that porch. They've been there a few months, long enough to know better, if you ask me."

"Is it a family? You know I wasn't home… I never knew who had… moved in?"

"It's a family with a passel of kids. And let me tell you, they don't have any manners at all, not like you and your sister did," Mrs. Leonard huffed, her breath blowing loudly through the receiver. "And honey, it was so nice of you to donate the furniture and things in your room to the shelter. You've always been like that, so giving. I wish my girls had been more like you. I still have every little thing from when Janie was in school… you wouldn't believe it, folded notes, report cards, prom pictures… she never would let me throw any of that away. Now it's just sitting boxed up in the attic, gathering dust and who knows what else.

Bella was so shocked that she let Mrs. Leonard ramble on while she attempted to pull herself together. The one place she thought would always be there was gone. Someone else lived in her house, slept in her room, played hide and seek in her oak trees out back. Her mom hadn't even asked if it was okay to give away her things. What had happened to her stuffed animals? Or that collection of Madame Alexander dolls that Grandmother Swan added to like clockwork- every birthday and Christmas- until she died?

"I'm sure they'll figure out the rules, Mrs. Leonard. You take care now, alright? Stay out of the sun." In her heart, Bella knew this was the last time she'd ever talk to the old lady. There was nothing left to tie her to Jacksonville. Tears pricked her eyes in memory of the life she had as a child, all surf, sun and catching crabs and Mrs. Leonard's chocolate chip cookies. It was over. Like so many other things.

After a few days to put everything in perspective Bella thought she'd be okay. She thought there were probably ways to track Renee and Phil down over the internet, but they obviously wanted some distance. A clean break, maybe. Bella didn't really understand that but she could respect it. It didn't mean she wasn't disappointed. There was no one left to talk to about her life... before. And she would have liked to have some pictures of when she was little. She and Rosie laughing on the Winnie the Pooh ride at Disney World, blowing out birthday candles, those awful family portraits Renee always made them get at Sears… fishing with Charlie on the weekends, anything. She thought about her daddy, how he'd sometimes cut the line on a fish if it was causing too much stress on the rod. He'd snip the line with his little fishing scissors, losing the bait and hook, not to mention the fish. He'd always say it was better to take the loss than to risk breaking the fishing pole.

She realized then that her mom was taking the loss. She'd cut the line months ago, Bella just didn't know it.

Two years later Bella walked to her mailbox to find a short note from Phil. There was a new baby, a boy, a half brother. Bella had been following Phil's career so she wasn't surprised to find the letter postmarked from Arizona.

She went online and ordered a light blue pajama set embroidered with baseballs from BabyGap to be delivered to the new address. The enclosed note was short and fairly impersonal, but left the door open, so to speak. Bella hoped her mother was happy, and she wondered what color the baby's eyes were and what they had named him.

But the mailbox stayed empty and the phone never rang. Not even a wrong number. She'd been careful to always keep it charged, and always with her, even though the screen would have shown any missed calls. After almost three and a half years Bella threw it away.

"I can hear you thinking again, Firefly."

"I'm not… I mean, not anything bad," she muttered, squirming.

He pulled her down so he could see her face and frowned at her confused expression. He tugged the ends of her hair. "What is it?" When she didn't answer he murmured, "You are so beautiful."

"No," she snapped then blushed immediately. "I'm sorry." She laughed a little, "…just… you don't have to do that."

He sighed. "Do what."

"Say that. You don't have to say… that." She slumped against him and whispered, "Edward… I don't feel right."

"You're shaking." He rubbed her back. "Are you cold?"

"N-no," she moaned through chattering teeth, suddenly aware of what was coming. "W-why is this h-happening now?" Pain lanced through her chest and she doubled over in his arms, wheezing.

"Breathe, Bella. Breathe with me. Look in my eyes… that's right." His hands flew over her, not knowing where to land. "You're having some sort of delayed panic attack."

"Sorry… sorry…" she said, her voice a bare rasp in the dark as she tried to regulate her breaths.

"Don't talk. It'll be over in a second." He breathed with her. "In and out… good girl." Within five minutes she lay exhausted and dozing on his chest. "Are we talking about this?" He asked quietly.

"I'm not sure why that happened," she murmured in a small voice.

Her vulnerability tore at his heart. "It was too soon, maybe. Before. I should have slowed down."

"No, maybe it's- I feel guilty. Maybe because I liked what you did."

He gave her a small smile. "It's normal to like it. You should like it." He paused, and then with a little laugh, "I mean, I really liked it. So stay with me tonight. We don't have to do anything else, okay? The night's half over anyway and I'll make you pancakes in the morning."

She stared blankly over his shoulder, biting her lip, hard. "I'm not a good person," she said for the second time that night. "Edward, you don't know… I mean, well, you just don't know. I have all these scars, inside and out. They aren't going away."

"Sometimes, the scars are what make us who we are." He whispered, kissing the mark on her forehead, thumbing gently over her nose. "I love who you are."

Bella wanted to believe that so much it hurt. "But you could have anyone you want," she said, unwilling to give up. "You deserve—"

"I want you, you goofy girl. I have since the minute I saw you. Hearing about what happened to you didn't change anything. And I wouldn't say you're damaged, either." He rubbed his face and yawned, thinking that the angle their conversation had taken felt somewhat like a distraction, although he didn't know from what. But they'd been through enough for tonight. "Enough," he murmured. "Come upstairs, you. I want a beautiful girl to roll around in my sheets so I can smell her on my pillow in the morning."

She sighed and crawled off his lap. "Gross."

"Definitely not gross. You smell delicious." He growled into her neck and swept her into his arms to carry her to the bedroom.

"Oooh, stop! Put me down!" She said feebly, giggling as he strode toward the steps.

"Hush. I've caught you, little firefly and you're crazy if you think you're ever getting away."

"When will you let me kiss you again?" he asked, his voice already rough at the edges, forgetting for a moment that he'd told her they were going straight to sleep. They lay tangled on his bed, almost nose to nose.

She didn't look like she minded his question though, eyes bright. "Maybe… now?" she whispered with a tiny hopeful shrug. She swept her tongue across her lip without thought, still minty from using his toothbrush. She colored slightly when he drew in a quick breath.

He lifted his hand and held it against her face, tracing a line down her nose to the sweet curve of her upper lip with his thumb. Her eyelids fluttered but she smiled widely.

"What?" he couldn't help but smile back, and leaned over to nuzzle the corner of her mouth.

"You're… tickling." Her words escaped from the back of her throat, the timbre sparking heat between them.

He fully intended to answer with some clever comment, but then they were kissing, slowly, with heavy breaths and little whimpers, and he wasn't sure who made the first move this time. Hearing her sigh when his hand slipped under her back to pull her closer forced such a thrill through him that he felt drunk, thinking there must be two separate worlds, kissing Bella and then everything else.

When she drew back a little, his lips followed single-mindedly until her hand pushed against his chest, leaving him rumpled, almost hyperventilating. When he came back to himself, he realized his erection was pressing against her hip. He gathered her hands and kissed her fingers after he put some distance between their lower halves.

"Too much?" he whispered as he ghosted over her knuckles.

He looked up in time to see her nod.

"I know it looks like- I mean, I'm here, in your bed… it's just-" she stuttered.

He smiled with such tenderness that her eyes pricked with tears, and he swiftly pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Stop. We're doing slow, remember? You're safe here, with me," he murmured as he smoothed the hair away from her temples. She nodded, melting into him. He thought she might be asleep until he felt her soft words against his neck.

"Why do you call me that?"

"What… why do I call you Firefly?" He asked, a little bashful. "It might be kind of silly."

"Oh, you could never be silly," she said with a soft smile, backing up to see his face, scratching a nail through his almost-beard.

"Right. Well, you remind me of a little firefly, I guess. My mom and I used to catch them when I was a kid. They were so gentle. They don't bite at all, you know? When it got really dark they were impossible to see unless they flickered their light at you. I'd get close to one and then the light would go off and I'd have to wait for it to come back on. But by the time she flickered again she had flown away and it would start all over."

Her big, dark eyes were unreadable.

"You flicker at me sometimes, Bella," he said softly. "All this time I've been waiting to catch you but when I get too close you fly away." He tilted her face to make sure she understood. "I don't mean here," he said, and he grazed her mouth with his thumb, running his hand down her side. "Here," he said, and lightly tapped her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, no… don't ever be sorry. Not to me." He gathered her close, humming into her hair until her eyes slipped shut and she was breathing soft and steady against his chest.

She threw the towel over the railing and jogged out to the water, exhaling as soon as her feet hit the surf. A storm was trying to kick up but it was nice to see that the day would be warmer than yesterday. Not that it mattered to the water, she thought, as goose bumps broke out on her legs, even under the wetsuit.

After ten minutes of swimming she was warm but ready to get back to Edward. It had been hard to leave his bed this morning, but she woke up feeling restless and off center, knowing that she needed to get out in the water, if only for a few minutes. Definitely the right decision. She floated and smiled widely into the sunrise, not that there was much of one this morning. It was overcast… with storm clouds. But everything was going to be okay with Edward. Really okay. He said that he loved who she was. She thought about what that might mean, amazed that after all this time she was the one who had something good, somebody wonderful to look forward to.

The water tugged abruptly and Bella felt a brief flare of panic when she noticed how far out she was. Daydreaming about Edward had made her miss the signs of a rip current and now she was right in the middle of it. She treaded water and looked to see if she could see the track so she could get out. She couldn't, so she swam on her side, careful to conserve her energy. Nothing but early morning seagulls on the shoreline but she wasn't worried just yet.

Rip currents were extremely dangerous but an experienced swimmer knows how to get out of one. Its no use fighting- ever, even a small current is too strong. Swimming parallel to the shore usually does the trick but at the very least, as long as the swimmer can keep their head above water, all they have to do is float and the current will eventually cycle them back to shore. The key was not to panic.

After fifteen minutes though, Bella knew she needed help. The wind was kicking up and she was getting tired. She could see a couple of Snowbirds walking on the beach and she waved, hoping they saw her. An intense burst of pain exploded across her calf all the way up her back and she gasped, taking in and then spitting out a mouthful of seawater. She was cramping up.

Not good, not good, relax Bella, float, just float, it'll pass. Relax, relax.

Trying to float with the choppy waves and rub her leg at the same time was impossible so she endured the pain, forcing down the panic even when she saw black spots in her vision. Not fair. So, so not fair.

Oh, Edward, Edward, I'm scared! And I'm so sorry.

Edward groaned when his arm slid over the cold sheets where Bella should have been. For a moment he couldn't decide if the night before was a dream or if he and Bella had actually had the hottest make-out session he'd ever experienced on Pete's favorite leather chair. He was leaning toward dream when he rolled over and got a nose full of Bella-scented pillow. A thrill zinged through him and he almost laughed out loud. Everything was going to be okay. It was real.

He sat up and scrubbed his face.

"Bella?" At the silence he stood up to head to the bathroom when he saw her note on the dresser.

E,

Went for a quick swim. Hopefully I'll be back before you wake up.

PS, bringing chocolate chips for the pancakes.

Wouldn't want you to go without your fix.

Love,

Your Firefly (happily captured)

His heart stuttered… Love. Now he really couldn't wait to see her. Throwing on a t-shirt and jeans he glanced at his watch and then looked out the window toward her house. Her towel was gone so that meant she was probably taking a quick shower before she came back over. His morning erection sprang back to life. Shower… Bella… That would definitely have to wait until she was ready but the outlook was good.

He flew down the steps with his mind on eggs and pancake mix when he noticed the wind whistling through the eaves of the roof. It sounded like a yellow flag day at the very least, if not red. She's lucky to have already gone and come back from her swim. He would have argued against her going, otherwise.

The morning light spilling through the window downstairs was tinged with a slow red pulse.

Pulse…

Pulse…

Pulse…

He frowned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and made a detour around to the back door. It was rare but not the first time paramedics had been here. If it wasn't some kid who drank too much, it was a Snowbird with high blood pressure.

He automatically scanned Bella's porch before he jogged over to the small group on the beach. The paramedics were moving slowly, quietly. That, combined with the stretcher he saw wasn't good news for whomever they were dealing with.

"Anything I can do to help?" He called out as he slowed to a stop.

He inhaled sharply when he saw her hand under the sheet.

No. No no no no no no no no…

Time slowed to a crawl. All the people were looking at him, talking, mouths were moving but the sound was gone. This was all wrong, he thought, he had to tell them why it wasn't her. He could still smell her on his fucking pillow. It wasn't her, it wasn't her.

Look at her porch; her towel is gone—see? She finished her swim a long time ago and she uses her towel right when she gets out, that's why it's not there… besides, it's way past sunrise. I know that's when she swims, I know. So this isn't my Bella, I promise it's not her because she was on the swim team, she's good, she swims everyday, she'd never let this happen… She's in the kitchen getting chocolate chips for our pancakes; she left me a note. Or maybe at the store, maybe she was out and she walked over- she's probably stuck in a conversation with Mrs. Cope right now- listen, it's the middle of the month and she still has paintings to finish and I love her, really love her, she's everything and I'm telling her today. Who the fuck is screaming?

They were holding him, why? His eyes were wild as they landed everywhere except the small white hand on the stretcher. The older lady from the blue cottage was sobbing into her husband's shoulder as he held her, his own eyes red rimmed. One of the medics was talking into her radio, giving him pitiful glances as she packed up at the same time. He craned his neck to look at Bella's house, struggling against the chokehold he was in. He'd show them, he'd call her and she'd come out to see what all the fuss was about.

"BELLA! BELL—" In the sand, a ribbon of bright red flashed in the wind, the corner of a dry towel that had blown off its porch.

His legs collapsed and he tumbled to the sand on all fours. Noise and sound snapped back into place and he thought of the way his ears would pop on an airplane.

"Sir! Sir, please. Do you know this young woman? Sir? …Sir?"

Yikes!

I don't believe in giving plot away unsolicited . So I won't. But PLEASE, feel free to ask questions in a review or send me a PM. I promise to answer to the best of my ability, and reassure you or not, depending on just how much you think you can take.

Many thanks to susayq, who got this in right under the wire. Superwoman... she does it all. :)

And to faireyfan, who is just an all around lovely person. You can thank her for the extra 800 or so words. *hugs*

Hang in there people, I mean it. Talk to me.