Dedicated with love to FDM, Zigster, Kris, Contagiously, AmeryMarie, TallulahBelle and Dirk. If not for each of you, I'm not sure I would have gotten here.
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Of Kith and Kin
Chapter 21 – The End, and The Beginning
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Christmas morning arrives and I feel the eagerness of a child. I am wrapped up in Edward's bed, wrapped up in Edward, and the feel of his bare legs against mine is exactly right. I try to turn in his arms, but he holds me tighter.
"Too early," he says with a pout.
"But it's Christmas," I whisper.
I turn to face him and one eye peeps open. I smile, and he closes it, but smiles back before burying his face in the crook of my neck. A moment later his hand comes up, digging under the blankets for my skin, until it rests just below my breasts. I long for him to keep moving, and even try to shift against him, but it's no use.
In the weeks that we've spent together, our relationship has reverted to what it once should have been: long, slow, ache-inducing kisses that leave us both frustrated, but he refuses to take more, even when I offer. He's afraid of hurting me, and while my flesh is still tender, it's been six weeks, and Doctor Sable gave me the all clear at my last appointment.
Feeling bold, I take his hand in mine and bring it to my breast. His hand closes around it, and he sighs something that sounds like contentment. I wiggle against him, trying to create some kind of friction, but he holds himself away.
"What are you trying to do, Swan, steal all the blankets?"
"No, you dope. I'm trying to get you to feel me up."
He shifts us until I'm on my back and he's hovering over me. His eyes are dark green and earnest, and I want to fall into them and never come up. Instead, I brush my hand against the stubble along his jaw. The air is cool and his skin is cold, with pink spots splashing his cheeks.
"We almost lost it all once by going too far, too fast. I don't want to make that mistake again."
"I know," I say, feeling abashed. I hate this feeling – like I'm slutty for pushing him. Maybe it's left over hormones, or maybe it's just him, but I want him all the time. I crave his skin, just to touch it, but then touching isn't enough. No matter how much I get, I want more.
"Baby," he whispers. "Please let's try to do this right." I smile into his eyes, but I know I can't hide my disappointment. "Besides," he says, "if you pout I won't give you your present."
"Present? You got me a present?"
"Maybe."
I smile my best smile and he laughs. "Man, you're easy."
I grin and nod. "That's what I've been trying to tell you!"
We both laugh and he pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head.
"Em and Rose are coming over for dessert," he says. I nod against his chest. "You gonna be okay?"
Tears wet my eyes as I think about holding Elise in my arms. She's mine, and yet, she isn't.
"Do I have a choice?" I ask.
"Always, baby. We can take a drive, or go for a walk. You don't have to hang around if you don't want to."
"I think I should. They don't…they don't get it, you know? They don't get that it's hard, and I don't want to seem like I begrudge them their happiness."
"Oh, Bella," he says, and pulls away to look at me. "It's okay that it's hard, and it's okay to take care of yourself. We'll hang out for a little bit, and then we'll take a walk, okay?"
I sigh and nod again, setting my head against his chest. "Carlisle gave me the number of someone in Seattle. A therapist."
"You gonna call when we get home?"
"I think I should."
"I think you should, too. It can't hurt."
"Yeah, but…."
"But?"
"You don't mind dating a crazy lady?"
"Oh, baby," he says, chuckling. "You think a little therapy's gonna change that? You're nuts!"
I turn in his arms and pinch his side, and he laughs and pulls me close.
"Punk," I say, giggling in his arms.
"You love it."
I giggle, because I do.
After a few moments, Edward excuses himself to the bathroom down the hall. I take the moment to steal back into my room and pull out the gift I have for him: A sweater that I knit by hand over the last few weeks. Esme had to help me with the blocking, but looking at it as I boxed it up for wrapping, I'd felt very proud.
I sigh as my fingers touched on another gift. The square white box wasn't wrapped, only tied closed by simple white string. It isn't wrapped because, even as of last night, I wasn't sure. I wanted him to have it, I just didn't know if I could give it.
Edward walks down the hall, startling me out of my thoughts. He looks amazing, long and lean in his flannel PJ bottoms, with his perfectly delicious torso bare. He dives for the covers, pulling up an old, faded, UCLA sweatshirt.
"You still have this," I say, fingering the frayed neck.
He nods. "I couldn't let it go."
"It's looking a little tattered."
"Hey, be nice to the sweatshirt. I seem to recall it was very good at keeping you warm on cold summer nights at the beach."
I grin and wink. "It wasn't just the sweatshirt keeping me warm."
He smiles and then peeks behind my back. "Whatcha got there?"
"Hmm? Where?"
"Right-" He leans over me, and then pins me down with a grunt, retrieving the gift box from my hands. "There."
"Oh, that," I say. I can't keep the teasing smile off my face. "Just something I picked up for your dad."
"My dad, huh?" He turns the box over in his hands. "Says here it's for me."
I laugh and then give him a nod. He opens it with abandon and I love it – the boyish look on his face as his fingers dig under the paper. When he lifts off the lid, his face scrunches, then breaks with wonder. His fingertips over the sweater are light, reverent.
"You made this," he says, recognizing the wool.
I nod. "You like?"
He pulls it out of the box and presses it to his cheek. "Smells like you," he says. "Bella, I love it."
I grin – no, I beam – and he beams back at me. We kiss for a long, slow moment before he reaches behind him to pull out a package.
He places it in my lap. It's large, rectangular and heavy. It feels like, and looks like….
I look in his eyes, asking. He just smiles, and gestures to the package.
My fingers are slow to remove the paper, but he doesn't urge me on, just watches.
When I'm done unwrapping, I stare in disbelief: it's a photo album.
I turn the first page, and there's a photo of me, Edward, Alice and Emmett from our first summer together. We were all wearing bathing suits, our hair stringy from the water, and all of us streaked with mud. Emmett had given me a frog, daring me to kiss it. When it peed on my hand, I wiped it on his arm, and then ran to the stream to set the frog free.
Emmett chased me while Edward laughed and Alice screamed. By the time Esme found us, it was a full on mud fight. She'd hosed us off on the front drive, but not before Carlisle took our picture.
This was the day I fell in love with you. Edward's lovely script dances beneath the photo in sepia ink.
I turn the page. There are photos of me and Alice, photos of me with all our friends and family, from the first days of our friendship, through high school. He's included the picture of all of us on the stairs, from the last day of school, his senior year.
The first time I ever held you. All I could think about was how much I didn't want to leave.
My throat gets tight as I remember that moment, how it felt to finally have him holding me like that, and how bittersweet it was, knowing he was leaving.
The next photo is from Rose and Emmett's wedding. It's a posed shot of Edward and me, smiling for the camera. He had his arm around my waist, and was so handsome in his tux that I'd spent half the night reminding myself not to stare.
Every moment of that night is etched in my mind. You turned the stars upside down, for me. Nothing will ever be the same again.
I swallow hard and feel tears, hot and stinging, in my eyes. "Edward." I whisper his name, but can't meet his eyes. His hand covers mine, and together, we turn the page.
Set across the next three pages are photographs from Los Angeles. So many images – us on sandy beaches, the sun dancing off the water in the background. Sunsets and us kissing, a photo of me in a floppy straw hat, holding a flower between my teeth and vamping for the camera.
On the last page of those pictures, there is his single, simple caption: These were the happiest days of my life.
I look up at him, tears running down my cheeks. He hasn't just given me a gift, he's given me his heart. Beneath the paper and bows, he's laid his heart bare for me. Every moment captured on film, giving me more reassurance than words ever could.
This is us. This is our life, together and apart. This is us.
"You made this." I feel overwhelmed by his gift, and I struggle not to break down. "This is so beautiful." Your heart is so beautiful.
"There's more," he says, and his voice is heavy and thick. If I see his tears, I'll be done for, so instead, I turn the page.
There are cold, somber pictures from Italy, most of them in black and white. They don't hold joy, but they do hold a quiet beauty that leaves me feeling sad and chilled.
When I turn the page, there's a large print of Botticelli's Primavera.
This was the closest thing to beauty that I could find without you.
I flip the page and it's blank, save for one sentence at the bottom of the page: The future is ours to write.
I clutch the book to my chest, closing my eyes and closing him out. It's too much, the past, his heart, all of it. It's too much, and, I realize, not enough.
"Hold on," I say, and run to my room. I grab the white box without thinking about it one second longer. It's his. I bought it for him. And what it symbolizes is everything.
When I return to him, my heart flutters in my throat.
I thrust the box out to him and he takes it, looking up at me with questioning eyes. I can't speak, I can only watch as his fingers slide the twine over the cardboard and part the tissue paper contained within.
He pulls it out of the box. It is large and red and heavy, but fragile. It's a heart, blown from glass, made in Italy, and it is both strong and easily broken.
He holds it in one hand and it takes up most of his palm. He strokes a finger across the red glass.
"It's only ever belonged to you," I say.
He cradles the heart in his hand as he rises from the bed to reach for me. His arms are strong and they pull me in to him, tight, and I can feel small and weak because, in the shelter of his arms, I'm safe.
"I promise," he says, "I will never let it break. I promise."
I nod against him. I know. He will never break my heart again.
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January
"You know, Doctor Sable gave me the okay four weeks ago."
"I know, I just…I want to take things slow this time."
"I know, but this seems…like you're holding back."
"I am. I don't want to make the same mistakes all over again. I don't want to lose you again."
"I know. I'm just…anxious. What if it's not…what if I'm not…."
"Don't even think it, Bella."
"Whatever. So…I'll see you on Thursday?"
"Hey, don't be sad about this. It isn't about me not wanting you."
"I know."
"Are you sure? Because, baby, I think about you all the time."
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
"Alright, handsome, call me tomorrow."
"Good night, Bella. Sweet dreams."
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February
"Oh, God, that feels-"
"I know…so…fucking-"
"Good. God, it's so good, baby, please don't stop."
"I can't stop, I'll never stop. It's amazing, you're amazing."
"God, how did I forget how good you feel? How could I forget-"
"It's perfect, baby. You're perfect, I love it. I love you."
"Love, love, oh yes, just there, oh, God!"
"Oh, fuck! Bella!"
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March
"Don't forget we have to stop-"
"By the bakery for the cheesecake. Bella, I know. Now, let's get moving."
"God, this feels so weird."
"What?"
"Going to your parents' house."
"Baby, you grew up in that house. Why is this weird now?"
"Because," kiss. "Of," kiss. "This." Kiss.
"Mmm. That was nice. Maybe we don't have to run out the door right this moment."
"But we'll be late!"
"Call Alice and have her bring the cake. I need you naked. Now."
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April
"God, would you just stop?"
"No, no, no – this isn't on me, Bella. This one is totally on you."
"Why does it have to be someone's fault?"
"Because you won't move in with me!"
"So what are you saying? Because I won't live with you I don't…love you?"
"I'm not saying that. I just don't understand why you won't consider it."
"I won't consider it because I thought we were taking things slow."
"We were, but Bella, I don't want to wait anymore. I want to start our lives together. I want…I want to wake up with you in the morning. Every morning."
"But I've lived here for five years, Edward. Besides, it makes more sense for-"
"For what?"
"Nothing."
"Spit it out, Swan."
"It makes more sense for you to move in here."
"Are you asking me to move in with you, Swan?"
"Maybe one day, Cullen. If you stop being such an ass and let me get there on my own."
"Uht-oh, is that a smile I see? Better watch out, I might think you like me."
"Shut up and kiss me."
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May
"What's up, Fishmouth?"
"Nothing, uhm…are you ready to go?"
"Yeah. I called Dad, and asked him and Sue to come over for the barbecue Sunday."
"And Seth?"
"Yes, and Seth. Your Xbox bff will be there."
"Oh, shut it. Listen, before we get there, ahm…."
"Yes?"
"Mom asked if she should get the guest room ready. I said no."
"Oh, my God. You didn't."
"I did. Don't be nervous, Bella. I'm pretty sure she knows we're having sex."
"Oh my God. But…your mother."
"Hey, she's practically your mother, too."
"Oh, God. Don't tell Charlie."
"Not on your life, gorgeous. Now let's get going."
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June
"Happy Birthday, baby."
"Mmmm. Are those blueberries?"
"Yep – thirty in each pancake."
"Are you making cracks about my age, Swan?"
"Well, you are an old man now."
"Not too old to wear you out."
"Hey, careful. You'll get syrup-"
"Fuck the syrup. I know something that tastes better."
"Oh, baby…."
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July
"It's here! It came!"
"Let's see it."
"Oh, look how pretty. Oh, I love the colors she picked."
"I can't believe he finally got Leah to say yes."
"I know, right? He said he asked her every day for three months before she finally caved."
"They're gonna be happy."
"Very."
"But not the happiest."
"Not even close."
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August
"Baby, stop."
"I don't want to. You taste good."
"But I'll miss my ferry."
"Mmmm?"
"Oh, God, baby."
"Mmmm."
"Fuck the ferry. Don't stop."
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September
"Bree's quitting."
"Really? When?"
"Not sure. She's going to try and stay through Christmas, but she thinks Riley might be shipped out before that, so she might have to leave in November."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I rely on her so much. I hate the idea of trying to replace her."
"Maybe you shouldn't."
"I know, but my clients – I don't know how I can keep up without someone."
"Maybe you should slow down, really think about your options."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if you slow down, you could take some time and do that book you're always talking about."
"Yeah, but-"
"But what? You might get to spend some time doing something you really like?"
"But it'll be hard to juggle the bills with less income."
"So, maybe you don't have to do it on your own."
"Wait – are you saying…?"
"I'm saying that we've taken things slow. And every morning that I wake up alone hurts. And there's no good reason for that. I'm saying I think we're ready."
"I think you're right. You know, you are the most amazing man."
"Natural talent, baby. Pure, natural talent."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
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October
"I swear to god, Cullen, if you drop that towel on the floor I'm going to choke you with it."
"What? Does that bother you?"
"Yes! You're driving me crazy with it. Wet towels all over the floor, all the time! Stop!"
"Okay, okay. Geez. Anything else?"
"Quit leaving your dirty socks under the desk."
"As soon as you start rinsing your coffee cups in the morning."
"What?"
"Bella, it's disgusting. The milk curdles, and it's chunky and just…gross."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
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"Do you still love me, even if I let my coffee cups get chunky?"
"Yes. But please be better about rinsing them?"
"I promise."
"And I promise to pick up my towels. I love you."
"I love you, too, baby."
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November
"You okay?"
"Yeah. It's not…it doesn't make me sad anymore."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Okay, a little. Not sad, just – I don't know."
"Maybe it's bittersweet?"
"It's – they're perfect, a perfect family. I thought if I helped them get that, then part of it could be mine. But then I remember that I don't need be on the edge of their happiness, because…"
"Because?"
"Because I have my own. I mean, because we're building our own, together."
"Exactly, Bella. We're building it together. We're building forever."
"I'm so lucky."
"You and me both, baby."
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December
It's Christmas morning, and I'm wrapped up in Edward so tight that I can't tell his body from mine. We're tangled up in his boyhood bed, the bed we sleep in every time we visit Forks. The bed where everything began, both the first time and the second.
I lay, listening to his steady, even breathing. It's soothing. At night, when I have trouble finding sleep, I lay my head against his chest and listen to the rhythms - his heartbeat, his breath, like the tide - and it calms me until I lose myself in dreams.
This morning, though, I'm content to lay enveloped in him, enveloped in happiness. We are happy. We are so happy that sometimes I want freeze a moment, try to capture it with my lens, try to mark it down for all time so that when there are bad times or hard times, we can look back and see how happy we were, and figure out how to get back to it. I find myself pausing in the middle of laughter, thinking remember this. This is it. This what you've been waiting for, your whole life.
Edward never lets me get lost in my thoughts for long. He finds me when I'm inside myself and he draws me out, back into the moment. It's one of my favorite things about him.
I smile as one of my other favorite things begins to stiffen against my backside. I press myself against him and notice that he has the fingers of one hand laced with mine, as the fingers of the other hand tighten against my forearm. I smile and kiss his arm, and his hand moves to my hip, before exploring further.
We're breathless, quiet and slow. His fingers do that thing that makes me forget my name, and I have to press my face into the pillow before I cry out. His hand runs along the back of my thigh, then shifts my leg up, opening me for him. I know with a touch what he wants, and he knows by the pant of my breath what I need. Without a word, he's inside me, his hand on my breast, the other still laced with mine, and he moves within me, moves with a slow, languorous pace, until we both lose ourselves to the rhythm, until he bites my neck, until he presses me harder, down into the mattress, both of us panting, both of us yearning, push and pull, bucking and shivering, gasping and shaking into stillness.
He kisses my shoulder where he bit me. He kisses a trail up my neck, down my spine, and then he turns me over and kisses me until I feel fragile and cherished and thick with his love.
"Merry Christmas," I whisper. I feel lit-up and glowy - not just from the loving but from the love. Edward hovers over me, his green eyes bright and full of something I can't place.
"What's up?" I ask. He's looking at me with something between a frown and a smile, and then he draws my hand, my left hand, up to his mouth and kisses my palm. It's a move that never fails to send a thrill up my spine, but this time it doesn't. This time I stop short. On my finger is a diamond ring, one that I've never seen before, but I know without question what it is.
I look into his eyes, and I can see he's pleading with me. I haven't seen this look on his face in more than a year, this desperate, yearning look.
"Will you?" he asks. "Baby, will you marry me?" The last words come out almost as a whisper, and I catch the waver in his voice.
The smile on my face is so big it hurts, and I feel my eyes wet with actual tears. I've never cried from happiness before, and I don't know why I am now. I am his and he is mine, and a ring can't change that, can't make it stronger, but it does. I nod and say yes. I say yes, yes, yes and he says yes, yes, yes, and it is call and answer, the words whispered against each other's lips, and his eyes are shiny, and none of it matters because this is forever. This is love, the real thing, and it's forever.
We lay in bed and talk about silly, loverly things.
"Can we have it small?" I ask. I don't want a huge affair, only the people we love the most, and who love us in return.
He nods against my cheek and lays his head on my chest. "Can we go to Florence for our honeymoon? I want to show you everything, baby. You'll love it so much."
I sigh with happiness, visions of cathedrals and kissing on bridges dancing behind my eyes. Edward lays his large palm against my stomach.
"Will you go off the pill?" he asks. My breath catches and he looks up at me, his green eyes burning bright, intense, and unapologetic. "I want to knock you up."
"When?" I say, but I'm just buying time. It's something I haven't let myself think about – having another baby. Having a baby of my own. Of our own.
"As soon as possible," he says. "Right now." His face takes on that earnest look again, and he rises onto his elbows, hovering over me. "Baby, I want to give you everything. I want to have a family with you, I want to have a future with you. You are…my life."
For the second time this morning, my eyes tear. It's something I've wanted so badly I haven't even been able to think about it, and here he is, handing it to me. I don't know how I got so lucky, how any one person could be so happy.
I can't speak, just nod, and his face breaks out with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. It takes my breath away, how beautiful he is, and when I close my eyes as he covers my face in kisses, I see my future. I see messy haired little boys with his same green eyes, and pretty little girls in pink dresses, clinging to their daddy's hand. I see Edward tossing balls and drinking imaginary tea, and I see him answering the door and staring down frightened young men when they come calling for our daughters.
"I love you so much," he whispers. "So much."
We lay in bed in the quiet morning, waiting for the house to wake up and warm up. His head is on my chest, and I can feel by the twitch of his fingers that he's falling back asleep, but I'm too happy, too excited, to do the same. My thoughts focus on the future, and the past.
Love looks like different things on different people. On Charlie, it looked like a first car built like a tank, snow tires every November, and gruff talks with scared boys who wanted his daughter's future. On Alice, love looked like a painting, a new dress, or a cooking experiment gone amok as she tried to breathe new life into a favorite dish (the Greek salad casserole was not a hit, God love her). On Renee, it looked like walking away, because she knew she would do more harm than good if she stayed. On Jasper, it looked like staying and holding on, no matter what.
On some people, it looks like the postcard you think it should. It looks like a happy family, just starting out, a mother and father cooing over an infant in their arms. It looks like washing dishes together on a weeknight, bumping hips as Sue washes and Charlie dries. It looks like a pile of fresh laundry, Esme's perfect creases, sitting on top of your bed, or the way Carlisle holds your hand while he feels your pulse anytime you don't feel well.
On Edward Cullen, love looked like heartbreak. And then it looked like the fits and starts of friendship that was frustrated for want of more. It looked like perfect cups of coffee, his tears in my hair, staying up late and playing the piano for me. It looked like running away, but then coming home again. It looked like backrubs and eyes that hadn't closed in two days, as he held my hand and waited for me to wake up.
On Edward Cullen, love looks like the past, and the future, and every sweet and hard moment in between. It looks like the diamond ring that his great-grandmother wore, his hand against the flat of my stomach as he talks about our future, and the top of his head against my chest as he falls, effortless, into sleep, listening to the beat of my heart.
At times, I felt like I'd spent my entire life trying to show the people around me that I love them. I was so familiar what love looked like on me, that I'd never tried to see what it might look like on them. It took Edward to open my eyes and show me that the love I needed, the love I craved, had been all around me, all along. What could be more beautiful than that?
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Ridonkulous AN:
This story has been over a year in the writing, and I figured about ten people would read it, and only then because they're my friends. My aim in writing this tale was to explore various "love" relationships in a person's life, be they familial, romantic, or born of friendship. I hope, at least, that I've succeeded in that task.
The reception this fic has received has knocked my socks off. I really…I'm just humbled by your response. Thank you, so very much. All of you. I am getting to the review replies. I'm so, so grateful. Thank you.
As mentioned before, there are a few outtakes: 1 from Em/Ro, 1 from Carlisle and at least one (but maybe two) from Epov. I'll get them up eventually, but it'll take me some time. I'll be adding them on as additional chapters of this story, but clearly labeled.
This entire fic was written to the tune of Sarah McLachlan's Surfacing and Whiskeytown's Faithless Street (expanded disc including the Baseball Park sessions). I listened to other things too, but those albums are how I got from A to Z.
A long time ago, I wrote a fic and in each AN, I begged for a beta. Krismom finally answered my plea. Over time, she's become not only one of my most trusted advisors, but also a friend. I love you girl.
Around that same time, I got an amazing review from FarDareisMai2. I remember reading it before work one morning and being so touched. We eventually started PMing and then chatting, and now she, along with Zigster, are the other legs of the tripod that keeps me standing and stable. Love you, girl. SFM!
I also want to thank the girls at Edwardville. You all don't know how I've loved reading your responses. Sometimes it made me blush or laugh, but mostly, I learned a lot about what works and what doesn't from a reader's perspective, and that is invaluable. Thank you.
AmeryMarie, Contagiously and TallulahBelle all preread various chapters of this story. Their selfless feedback only served to make this tale better and to save me from myself. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
For those who have asked, I'll be writing some Jasper/Bella o/s to fulfill my FGB promises. I will also be completing "And Yet They Shine," as well as "This Land is Mine," and "Venice Beach Stories (the Paul/Rachel Storyline and possibly a Jasper O/S). I don't have any plans for a new E/B fic, but I'm not ruling out the possibility.
Regarding research: I've never had a child or been pregnant. In order to write this story, I researched surrogacy. I read several blogs written by women who had chosen to be surrogates either for friends, family, or total strangers, and I also read blogs by women who were using a surrogate to fulfill their dreams of a family. I continue to believe that surrogacy is one of the most selfless acts a woman can make.
A note on the tense shifts: The purpose for me, as a writer in writing this, was to play with tense shifts and try to illustrate something through their use. So most of this tale was told in past tense, with Bella remembering things in present. I wanted to illustrate that Bella was very much living in the past by having the flashbacks be present tense. When she woke up in the hospital, she was back in her own skin, and living in the here and now, which is why chapters 19-21 are written in the present tense. I apologize if that was confusing to anyone. It was really just me mucking about with writing devices. That said…if I have to tell you what's going on, I've failed at that particular task as a writer. Apologies, and thank you to those of you who persevered anyway.