Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Here I am again! Sorry for updating so very, very late! I hope the fact that this chapter is twice the usual length will make up for that a little.

Many thanks to reviewers and readers, to Arabella's, and to BookishQua,who has recommended my story to so many of my readers :-) My absence on Twitter, Tumblr and whatever not often causes me to miss these things, but when I do find out, I'm ever so grateful. Thank you!

Finally, an updated recap: Our lovely couple went to Italy to resuscitate their relationship. Thing were going well, and Bella was sleeping, eating, and on some very rare occasions even smiling (!) until a member of the Volturi showed up and threatened them. After Edward threw said vampire off the premises, Bella had a minor relapse concerning the condition she was diagnosed with (which you might remember as 'catatonic schizophrenia'), but Edward was able to wake her up. After that, he called his family, and they all showed up the following day. Edward is not willing to change Bella and response to the Volturi's threat, but his family does not immediately agree. Chapter 21 starts two weeks after their arrival.

A sharp pop pulled me out of my reverie.

Stretched out on my favourite lounger, I had spent the better part of the morning reading and dozing. The popping noise made me realise that I'd done more of the latter than of the former, and I groggily peeled my eyelids open.

Carlisle had joined me on the lawn with a lounger of his own, a thin curl of steam wafting out of the bottle in his hand.

I frowned as he laid the cork on the small table, next to my copy of Death Comes to Pemberly. I'd started on it earlier this morning, I remembered hazily.

As I'd found out during the past two weeks, reading was the only thing left that could keep my thoughts away from the solid fear that had settled in my stomach. The dozing, and the nightmares that came with it, had become a necessity as my body or mind had – once again – reverted to a state of utter sleeplessness during the nights.

When Carlisle proceeded to fill two slender glasses with the clear, slightly golden liquid I'd come to recognise as Prosecco, my astonishment got the better of me.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out.

Carlisle smiled at me.

"I'm preparing a toast."

The foam swiftly rose within the confines of the crystal. Carlisle topped up several times while I watched incredulously.

"A toast?" I eventually managed to get out, shading my eyes with my hand to get a better look at him. "A toast to what?"

Carlisle put the bottle in the cooler, then handed one glass to me before sitting down with the other.

We clinked glasses.

"A toast to you," he proclaimed, smiling at me in a way I couldn't comprehend.

He smiled proudly. At me.

I rejected the idea immediately.

"I don't want to toast to me."

Carlisle shrugged. "You've handled the stress of the last thirteen days admirably. I must say I'm proud."

I frowned.

"I don't want to toast to me."

"All right then. You toast to whatever you want to, and I'll just toast to you."

Carlisle's voice was friendly. I watched, stupefied, as he lifted the glass, nodded at me, and took a sure, steady drink.

Then he swallowed.

"Do you like drinking Prosecco?" I asked him. Aside from calculated attempts to appear human, this was the first time I'd seen a vampire consume human food.

"Not particularly," Carlisle smiled, sniffing the beverage appreciatively. "But it's such a lovely gesture, I can't help but indulge sometimes." His golden eyes twinkled with mirth.

I watched in bewilderment as he lifted his glass again.

"Cheers," he grinned.

"Cheers," I muttered, and we both took a sip. It was cool, slightly dry, but not even close to bitter, and it bubbled pleasantly against my tongue.

Memories of Florence bubbled up in similar fashion, but I pushed them down.

"Is it any good?" Carlisle asked me.

I gave him a small smile, still reeling from his strange behaviour, this curious spectacle that was unfolding before me.

"Yes. It's delicious."

Carlisle's smile grew.

"Good." He seemed delighted, and sat back in his lounger, looking completely comfortable sipping alcohol with me.

I stared at him for a few more minutes, then shrugged and took another taste.

It really was delicious.

Good thing, too, as it would also probably be my last drink. The two weeks were up, and Edward had made no move to change me. Had given no indication of having changed his mind.

Sure, we'd talked about strategies, figured out the best way to handle 'the situation'. Or rather, he and his family had discussed tactics while I sadly sat on the sidelines, the fragile human whose life was on the line.

They'd try to engage me in the conversation, but I never had anything to add, uninformed as I was of the different ways to kill a vampire. I'd never killed a vampire. Had never had the chance, because I wasn't one and there was just no way to kill a vampire while being human. I'd never had the chance to be a vampire and kill a vampire.

I'd only ever been the victim. The fleshy container of about eight pints of blood. Blood which apparently smelled extremely appetizing. The rest of me, the container itself so to say, seemed to be less alluring.

Edward had hardly touched me during the past two weeks. I tried not to, but I shied away every time his hands came near me, the memory of the unknown man's touches lingering in my mind. A few days after the event, Edward had declared he was giving me space until I felt ready.

I didn't feel ready.

When Edward's family arrived and he made it so blatantly clear that changing me would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him, I'd forced myself to push all the pain and all the heartache away. The result was that I spent my last two weeks in a sort of permanent haze, a state of calm which was utterly bizarre in the face of my impending death. But it was there, and it helped me to function without breaking down in fear and humiliation, much like it had helped me to function during the first months after Edward had left me.

The comparison was crippling.

"How are you doing, Bella?"

I looked up and saw Carlisle watching me closely. His perusal made me uncomfortable, and I shrugged.

"Are you feeling okay?" he prompted.

"Sure." I shrugged again, wondering what was coming, getting so tired of these daily interviews. They had all come to talk to me, day after day, to ask me how I was doing, how I was feeling, like their superficial concern could help me.

"The bruises are gone," he added, glimpsing at my neck. "How are you feeling?"

I raised my eyebrow in irritation.

Really? Again?

"Like I'm about to die tomorrow," I deadpanned.

Carlisle expression morphed into one of faint concern.

"I'll make sure that won't happen."

I gazed at him, remaining silent.

"We all will," he continued earnestly.

I took another sip from my glass, feigning nonchalance. I liked to believe that I'd become an expert at that.

"Bella?"

"They won't fail," I muttered, echoing the words Alice had screamed at Edward two weeks ago.

"There's five of us," Carlisle countered. "Three of us have powerful gifts that they don't have. We've come prepared and we have a plan."

Oh yes, the plan. Tomorrow, when the two weeks were officially up, we were going to go to Rome and search the protection that only crowds could offer. The Cullens figured that the Volturi wouldn't attack in the middle of a city that, at this time of the year, would be fit to burst with millions of potential eye-witnesses.

I stayed silent.

I'd drawn my own conclusions about all this and didn't fancy having another discussion about them. Instead, I watched the tiny bubbles cling to the inside of my glass. Those tiny, fragile orbs defined only by their existence in a sea of liquid gold.

"We won't let you die, Bella. I promise you, you will live either way."

"No," I muttered, closing my eye and shaking my head. "Not either way." I laid my head against the back of the chair.

Carlisle's voice suddenly came from much closer. The gentle amusement had disappeared.

"You don't want the change?"

I opened my eyes, and found him crouching on the ground next to me, his face level with mine.

"I don't want to be alone again," I muttered.

"You wouldn't be," he said immediately, like this was the most natural thing in the world. "You'd be with us."

"But not with him. He doesn't want me to change."

Carlisle took my hands.

"He loves you."

"Yes." I paused. "But not enough. Not with a love that would let me stay with him forever."

"He loves you enough to try to prevent you staying with him forever," Carlisle countered.

I sighed.

"Big difference. He still doesn't want me for eternity."

"He does."

"He doesn't."

Now it was Carlisle's turn to sigh. I took another swallow, effectively draining my glass.

"What do you want?"

I stared at him. His eyes were honest. No disguises. No hidden agendas.

Nonetheless, it took me a while to admit it.

"If he would give me the chance, I would love him forever."

Carlisle's eyes turned sad.

"But?" he prompted, sensing rightly that there was, indeed, a 'but' coming.

"But I can't be with someone who doesn't love me the same way. Who'd stay with me forever, not out of love, but out of guilt, out of a sense of duty."

Carlisle smiled wistfully.

"I suppose telling you he loves you just as much as you love him wouldn't persuade you to change your views?"

"No." I smiled apologetically.

Carlisle leaned sideways, grabbed the bottle from the cooler and refilled our glasses. We clinked them against each other, and took a small first sip.

Cold and warm.

"If he'd let me," I said to Carlisle quietly, "I would love him forever. But now I'll love him until I die."

ooo000ooo

When the fog lifted, I looked into a pair of brown eyes. He sat in the chair that Carlisle had occupied just now, and he wore his customary big grin.

"Am I asleep?" I murmured sleepily.

"Yes. You're dreaming."

I nodded wearily, and looked at him blearily through small and puffy eyes.

"You look good," I muttered.

"Ha!" He slapped himself on his chest. "Don't I know it?"

I chuckled softly. I'd come to get used to my 'visits' with Jacob. During the past two weeks, I'd seen him almost every time I'd dozed off during the day. It was almost as if he hadn't died.

Almost.

"How are you holding up?"

"Cracking up, I guess," I answered truthfully. "I hardly sleep, can't manage to eat more than a few bites at mealtimes, and I'm seeing my dead friend almost every day."

Jacob was silent. I reached for my flute of Prosecco, but it wasn't there. I frowned.

"Where's my glass?"

"What glass?"

"The glass Carlisle filled for me. The glass of Prosecco."

"Doc's getting you drunk?"

I snorted. "Of course not. He drank most of it himself. But I had a glass," I muttered, turning in my seat to look at the house.

It wasn't there.

Instead, there was just an endless expanse of lawn on which Jacob and I were currently sitting.

I turned again to look at the lake, this time, but that had disappeared as well. Instead, green grass stretched as far as the eye could see.

When I looked back at Jacob, the lounger he'd been sitting in had vanished, too, and we were lying together on a large blanket that had been draped over the grass. The sky was bluer than blue, and the sun couldn't be seen even though I felt it on my skin.

Hot.

Jacob's hand found mine.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asked me.

"With what?"

"With our surroundings. You're giving me whiplash, the way you keep changing things."

"Oh. Sorry," I murmured, distracted by the way he'd used the term 'whiplash' and the way it reminded me of a situation that lurked at the edge of my memory.

A breeze stroked our faces, and it carried an emotion that was easy to identify.

Calm.

"Jasper's home," I stated sleepily.

"Where's he been?"

"Hunting. Everyone left this morning, except Carlisle."

"Who got you drunk."

"Bless his heart," I grinned, even though I knew that Carlisle had gotten me nowhere near drunk.

He'd helped me relax. Softened the sharp edges of my feelings as they cut through my heart. Made me feel appreciated, noticed, seen.

He'd made me feel loved, even if just the tiniest bit.

"I don't want to wake up."

"Then don't. Stay with me."

"Yes." Just for a while longer.

"The weather's nice here."

"It's nice there as well."

"But people don't hurt you here."

"True."

"So stay here."

I shook my head. "No. We talked about this."

"He doesn't want you."

I turned my head to look at him, bringing our noses mere inches apart.

"You think?"

"Yeah," Jacob admitted. "And so do you."

It hurt like hell, even here.

"He's letting you die," Jacob went on. "Starting tomorrow, people are out to kill you, and he knows that, and yet he does nothing to stop it. To save you. Who does that?"

I was silent for a while, trying to imagine clouds in the blue sky. They popped up suddenly, and took the forms of crimson peonies and golden marigolds.

"Do you think I should have left him?"

Jacob said nothing.

"I couldn't leave him," I muttered disconsolately. "I love him."

"Still?"

"What?"

"I mean, even now?"

"Of course."

I made the peonies dance within the blue, and had the marigolds circle around them. Then the sky turned black, and the world turned to night, and the flowers started to shine, replacing the sun I hadn't seen before.

"Bells?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a freak show."

"Thank you."

"And now it's time to go."

I turned to look at him. His eyes glittered happily in the darkness. I squeezed his hand.

"Bye, Bella."

"Bye, Jacob. Guess I'll see you soon," I whispered, and wrenched myself away.

ooo000ooo

My head involuntarily rolled against the headrest of the lounger, and for a second I was blinded by glittering skin.

"Jasper," I groaned, struggling to see him sitting next to me, a careful smile on his lips. His hands were folded on top of his lap.

"I'm sorry for waking you."

"Why did you do it then?"

"I was wondering if you'd like me to read to you again." Jasper took the book that had been lying on the side table and held it up for me to see.

I glanced sideways and saw Edward standing just outside the double doors. He turned around and disappeared into the shadows of the house.

Pain fluttered in my chest, but I held it down.

"Did he eat?" I asked Jasper.

"Yes," said Jasper. "Did you?"

I nodded.

"What did you have?"

I rolled my eyes. "I had an apple on the train," I joked half-heartedly.

Jasper sighed, and raked a hand through his hair just like Edward always did.

"Are you getting tired of me?" I asked him.

"Of course not."

"Because you don't have to read to me. I can read. I can do it on my own."

"I know you can read, Bella. Of course. But I want to. We both like it."

I remembered the first time he'd offered to read to me. I'd been lying in the sun, and the stark whiteness of the pages had made me dizzy.

"Don't you agree?"

Warm air fluttered past my lips as I exhaled. "Yes," I breathed. "I do like it." And I liked Jasper, ever since he approached me just after they arrived and apologised, profusely but without embellishment, for what had happened in September. His blunt honesty had been refreshing, and it had warmed my heart for a while.

"All right then." He stood up and took the seat that Carlisle had occupied before. "Death Comes to Pemberly this time, I see. You've been busy. Yesterday we were reading Antonio's Revenge."

"Yes," I muttered. Not being able to sleep had added a substantial number of hours to each day.

"So, page 55, I presume?"

"Sure," I acquiesced, not really remembering what had happened at Pemberly before I'd fallen asleep.

"Right then," Jasper said jovially, and started to read. "'But his words were lost in a renewed howling of the wind in the chimney and the company followed him out of the music room, down the main staircase and into the hall. Stoughton and Mrs Reynolds were already there. At a gesture from Darcy, Stoughton opened the door.'"

Jasper had a good voice for reading, and the story was nice. A bit shallow, perhaps, and probably not all that interesting after all, but nice.

Nevertheless, when Mr Bennet was mentioned, my thoughts were inevitably catapulted back to the conversation I'd had with my own father, yesterday morning. We'd chatted about ordinary things, like the sights I'd seen and the places I'd been. I'd mentioned that we were planning to go to Rome, and he responded with a 'blimey' and a remark about how I'd have to eat lots of ice cream for him.

I couldn't tell him anything else, of course. He'd made to end the conversation in a casual way, but I needed to say more.

"I love you, Charlie."

He'd been surprised, a short silence at the other end of the line.

"I love you, too, Bells," he'd answered then. "Of course. I do miss you an awful lot, you know. Make sure you call again soon."

"I'll make sure," I assured him falsely. "Goodbye then, dad."

"Bye, Bells."

And he'd hung up. He wouldn't realise it was goodbye until he'd receive the call, or the letter, the two colleagues at the door, or whatever it would be.

A passage from Antonio's Revenge floated to the forefront of my mind. I silently whispered it to myself while Jasper's voice relayed how Lydia yelled hysterically that her Wickham had been killed.

'Had heaven been kind,

Creating me an honest, senseless dolt,

A good, poor fool, I should want sense to feel

The stings of anguish shoot through every vein;

I should not know what 't were to lose a father;

I should be dead of sense to view defame

Blur my bright love'

"What's that?"

I started. Jasper had stopped reading and was looking at me quizzically.

"Nothing," I said hastily. "Please, go on."

"Of course. 'It was then that Alveston intervened. 'Forgive me, sir, but I feel I must speak. You discuss what Miss Darcy should do as if she were a child. We have entered the nineteenth century; we do not need to be a disciple of Mrs Wollstonecraft to feel that women should not be denied a voice in matters that concern them. It is some centuries since we accepted that a woman has a soul. Is it not time that we accepted that she also has a mind?''"

Huh. I huffed at the irony, and heard a car door slam in the distance. Turning my head, I saw Edward getting into the passenger door of the Mercedes, and it drove off.

"Where's he going?" I interrupted Jasper.

"They're going to the store so you can have a proper dinner," Jasper murmured without looking up. "Should I read on?"

"Yes, please," I muttered, and closed my eyes again.

ooo000ooo

My back was toward him when he lay down next to me, yet I didn't need to turn around to see what he would look like tonight.

Edward's eyes would carry the hurt they carried every night, when the weight of the day seemed to press down on him.

I turned a page.

"Did you get some sleep today?" His voice was carefully neutral.

I nodded. "Some."

Wickham's trial seemed to last forever, yet I dutifully read through it, slowly turning the pages until I would inevitably run out of them.

"Can I hold you?"

I stilled. His voice was fragile, and a wave of pity made me feel unsteady.

"Yes," I nearly whispered. One hand hesitantly came to a rest against my stomach, and his other stroked my hair.

"I'm so very sorry," he murmured against my neck. "I realise what my behaviour must look like to you."

I turned another page. A woman committed suicide by jumping in front of a carriage.

"Please, Bella. I love you."

His hand left my hair and came to rest on my upper leg instead.

"I cannot condemn you to a damned existence, just so I can keep you with me for eternity."

We were both silent for a while.

I turned another page. Darcy was vomiting in the middle of the street, now.

"How uncharacteristic," I whispered in the darkness.

"Bella?"he asked, obviously trying to engage me into conversation.

"I want a family," I said instead.

His hand stilled against my thigh.

"You have a family."

I stared at the dark ink of the letters on the paper.

"I have two parents. They're not a family. They're two separate persons."

"You've got us. We're your family."

"You're all different," I murmured. "I don't belong."

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"You do. You're part of me."

I closed my eyes.

I love you.

"Will you stay with me?" I asked him.

"Of course. I'll stay with you forever."

But this was not what I needed to know. I covered his hand on my stomach with my own.

"No," I whispered, entwining our fingers. "Just stay with me for now."

ooo000ooo

In Rome, you could smell the sun. It shone so mercilessly that my hair quickly became too hot to touch, and my body became altogether overheated.

Yet I didn't move to the shadowy sides of the streets as we wandered through them. Here, they smelled of sweating bodies, burning toast, urine, and hot pavement. With every step I took, five vampires, walking on the other side of the street, were silently entreating me to walk in the shade.

I declined.

As hot as it was, there was a semblance of space in the sun. Of freedom, of the ability to do as you like. It was only an illusion, but I relished it.

And so, as the sun burnt the top of my head, and as my feet were smouldering in their sandals, I was more comfortable than I'd been all day. We'd left Lake Como in the wee hours of the morning, and had arrived at the hotel in the centre of Rome about five hours later.

The journey had been rather unpleasant, to say the least. While Esme and Carlisle had sat in the front of the Mercedes, Edward and I had sat in the back. While I had tried to read in a desperate attempt to quench my nerves and keep my general state of mourning the impending loss of my life invisible to the others, Edward had made it virtually impossible by staring at me for most of the time. In the end, I had compromised by just staring blankly out the window and ignoring his enquiring gaze.

So here we were, wandering through the sweaty centre of Rome, trying to see some of the sights. We'd gone out at my proposal, and yet I couldn't focus on anything but the heat, and the dread, and the loneliness amidst the throngs of people.

We rounded a corner, and were confronted with a sheer mass of activity, a chaotic hustle and bustle of human beings as they pushed their way out of one shop and into another. I came to a slow halt, and from the corner of my eye saw five white forms do the same.

"Bella?"

Edward's voice was louder than usual in order to be heard above the rumble of Rome. I swallowed, making my dry throat ache, then stretched my neck, wiping it with my hand.

"Bella, please come to this side of the street."

I took a few deep breaths before walking onwards, determined to get to the end of the street. It didn't matter that I'd forgotten which tourist attraction lay there.

People bumped into me, their sticky bodies brushing against mine, yet I welcomed the contact. I heard all sorts of languages I couldn't understand - and never would - and wondered where all these people came from.

As I licked my parched lips, someone bumped into me so hard from behind that I stopped in the middle of the street. People immediately swarmed their way past me, moving on regardless of the circumstances.

Closing my eyes again, I wiped my forehead with the palm of my hand. My head was pounding.

I let out a shaky breath, my hand still cradling my forehead. Elbows nudged me, long hair fluttered against my bare arms. Whiffs of sweat and strong perfume hung heavily in the air.

Too strong.

So tired.

My heart was pounding in my ears, pain shooting through my head in the same rhythm. Faces were looking at me, scowling at me, regarding me inquisitively, angrily, fleetingly. No sound but my heartbeat existed. Raising my head, I looked straight into the sun before immediately shying away from the light that hurt my eyes.

I took a few steps, finally seeking the shade, but I couldn't find it. I turned around and all I saw was people, people everywhere. My feet travelled in a different direction, and again in a different one, until my head suddenly felt very light, and the world started swaying.

Slender, strong arms slithered around me immediately, arms covered in some soft fabric, dragging me out of the sun, my feet slipping beneath me as I tried to keep up. I sank down on the pavement. It was rather cool against my bare skin, and I distantly noted that I'd made it into the shadow.

Cold hands, golden eyes. My sunglasses were off. A breeze, cooling the sweat on my skin, making me shiver. Angry stares from above of people I didn't know.

A water bottle against my lips. Swallowing as sound came back. All of them saying things, to me and to one another, creating a big swirl of noises I couldn't make sense of.

"I'm fine," I murmured into space, feeling my hair being tied into a knot at the back of my head. Cold hands against my back.

The bottle was back. I grabbed at it, but my hand came back empty.

A man speaking to us in Italian. His shoes were black and shining, his apron was the starkest white.

"Perhaps we should, Carlisle?"

"Yes."

Alice tattering away in Italian, Edward cupping my face. I was finally able to focus on his face.

"Can you stand?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to raise you now," he muttered, grabbing my elbows and pulling me upright.

His arm was around my waist, and he entreated me to walk with him. My feet worked, and he led me into darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw we had entered a restaurant full of people, their faces turned toward me. Edward led me to a round table in the middle of the room and guided me to a chair.

I sat down, leaned back, and closed my eyes. Minutes must have gone by as I slowly came back to myself, and recovered my wits enough to thank the Lord for air conditioning.

More Italian, and a thud as a bottle of water was placed on the table. I started, and sat up, blinking sheepishly. Edward immediately opened it, filled the glass that stood in front of me, and held it out. Our fingers touched, and the water was cool and felt so good that I emptied the glass in one go. He filled the glass again, but I shook my head, and he put it down on the table.

His hand found my forehead.

"Are you feeling better, now?"

I nodded carefully, but the pounding in my head had only lessened a bit.

Fingers, coming from my left, pressed against my wrist.

"Pulse is getting back to normal," Carlisle announced.

The waiter approached our table and started handing out menus. One by one, they all politely accepted them.

"I'm sorry," I murmured once the waiter had left.

"Don't be, Bella," Carlisle immediately tried to reassure me. "We've all gotten used to being in certain situations that require us to, let's say, alter our appetites."

His voice was so friendly and sincere that I gave him a small smile, feeling nothing but misery and embarrassment.

"It's no trouble, Bella," Alice piped up, smiling tentatively at me. She opened her menu, a carefully composed look on her face, and the others followed her example. I was sure she meant to be reassuring, but she made me feel uneasy and strangely homesick.

Leaning back, I tried to relax the muscles in my belly. It wouldn't do to barf in here, not in the midst of all these people. Trying to control my breathing helped, and the world around me faded away.

"Bella?"

Edward's hand was on the edge of my seat. The waiter stood on the other side of the table, staring at me. I looked back at Edward.

"What will you have?" he asked me.

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat."

"I don't want to, now." Not with five people watching in disgust.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he broke the connection by turning and rattling to the waiter. Ordering for me.

Sheer irritation quickly turned to anger, and Jasper's eyes were on me in an instant. I didn't meet his gaze, but settled for looking over my shoulder at the other people in the restaurant. Ordinary people, who had stopped looking at me a while ago. Their chatter, which had dimmed substantially after our entrance, was slowly gaining strength again.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "Bella, how are you feeling?"

"Ask him," I muttered mulishly.

"Bella," Edward imitated his father, "you shouldn't - "

"Stop," I interrupted him. "I'm not willing to discuss this again."

"Well, I am."

"Oh are you?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. You know, it takes two to have a discussion."

The waiter saved the day, serving us our antipasti on several big plates, and placing individual, empty ones before each of us.

Edward took my plate and filled it with bruschetta, all sorts of cheeses, olives, mushrooms drenched in garlic and oil, and slices of mozzarella with slices of tomatoes.

When he placed it before me with a determined look on his face, I was done being silent.

"What do you want from me?" My voice was as cold as it had been that first day, when he came back.

Edward stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to die healthy?"

His eyes widened. "I don't want you to die at all!"

His voice was louder than it should have been, and I saw four vampires stiffen slightly.

I merely stared at him.

"You are letting me die," I told him quietly after a few seconds.

"I'm not. I'll protect you."

"You can't. You're letting me die. I am eighteen years old, Edward. Eighteen."

"Alice doesn't see you die."

"She doesn't see me live, either!"

His eyes didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. I looked away and picked at my food.

The mozzarella was good, but I barely tasted it.

"I'll change you," Edward whispered. "But not like this. Not on their terms."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"You'll change when you want to. Not because you have to."

"What if I don't want to?"

I looked up at him. The strangest expression was on his face. I hailed the waiter and ordered, in my own, broken American-Italian, a large glass of iced tea.

We were all silent until the waiter came back after a few minutes. He placed the tea in front of me, and I took a sip.

It didn't help me calm down.

A song started playing softly in the background. It didn't recognise the opening, but when Ella Fitzgerald started singing I realised I knew the song by heart.

Every time we say goodbye, I die a little

Softly, so softly I almost couldn't hear, I whispered the words and hummed along with the melody.

Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little

They were all staring at me, I knew that, but I felt distant, slightly fuzzy, like I was somehow a little way removed from the scene that was unfolding here, at a dinner table, in a restaurant in Rome.

Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know,
Think so little of me, they allow you to go.

I took another sip of the iced tea while Ella crooned on. The headache was coming back.

"I cannot understand why you are doing this," I muttered to the table in general.

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked.

"You lost your humanity," I answered. "Did you ever stop and wonder what this would be like for someone who isn't immortal? Who doesn't live their lives knowing that they have an unlimited supply of time on their hands?"

Their blank faces told me they hadn't wondered. Not for a while now, at least.

"You lost your humanity," I repeated. "You all started out like this, didn't you? Started out like me?"

No response. Frozen faces.

There's no love song finer,

But how strange the change from major to minor

"But you've forgotten what it was like. To feel the need to make the most of it."

"Of what, dear?" Esme asked.

"Of the time you have left."

Every time we say goodbye.

"I've never done anything. Never finished high school. Never went to college. Never married. Never got a job. I never did anything. Except fall in love. And the man I love is letting me die. And you're letting him kill me. I can't understand why."

"Bella," Carlisle softly interceded, "we promised that we wouldn't let you - "

"I'm terrified," I interrupted. "Didn't you ever stop to wonder what it must feel like to know you are about to die? To know that you are being hunted, again, and to suspect you won't be so lucky this time?"

Ella was silent for the moment. Some sort of flute played, joined by another one.

"I am scared out of my fucking wits here, and you are doing nothing. Nothing."

I glared at them. Their faces had started swimming a little in the space before me. Then I turned to Carlisle again.

"You left. Disappeared for months, left without a backward glance. Never said goodbye, even though I used to come to your house regularly because your son had fallen in love with me. And now you're back again, acting like nothing ever happened, and you come to Italy at a moment's notice."

I paused and drained my glass.

"I cannot understand you," I repeated. "And I cannot understand how you could ever think I would trust you enough to take your word for it. To believe you when you promise me I am not going to die."

I swallowed, finding it hard to take a breath. My hand glistened after I wiped it across my forehead.

"Love, are you all right?"

I shook my head.

"I don't feel well." My voice sounded distant. Suddenly, the table lurched toward me as if I was falling, and I held out my hand to catch myself. Yet when I knocked over my empty glass instead, I realised I was still sitting in my chair.

"Bella?"

Edward sounded frightened. I tried to stand up, but my legs wobbled underneath me, and I had to use the table for support. The sudden movement made me gasp for air, but I couldn't get enough of it.

Edward's hand grasped my elbow now. The world tilted again, and I stepped back to keep from falling. A crunching sound came from underneath my sandals, and I looked down to see what had caused it.

I stood in shards of glass, feeling stickiness against my feet. I remembered the glass that I had accidentally knocked from the table.

The glass of iced tea.

"Oh God," I muttered, staring at the shards, understanding now. So simple, after all...

My knees buckled, but Edward caught me.

Edward. Always Edward.

"Bella?"

I tried to breathe, but the world still faded around me.

"The tea," I whispered hoarsely.

I was falling, falling further still, but the hands on my back remained where they were.

"Jesus," someone gasped. A question was asked, but I hardly heard.

I was already on my way.

Thank you for reading! Please don't worry, I love happy endings ;-) Let me know what you think?