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The fireplace warms her toes as she starts waking up. Edward is no longer beside her under the blankets but crouching next to her feet, poking embers with a fire iron. His wound has stained the sheets and its edges have darkened. She watches his muscles as he moves, admiring his athleticism and observing the delicate skin beneath his bruise that has dried somewhat. She observes him as he sits on the mattress beside her feet, runs hands over his face, and sighs. It's a bit heart-breaking, and she wiggles her toes to tickle his hip. He looks up.

"You can talk to me, you know," she mutters, sitting up but holding blankets around her. Aware of how sleepy she must look (and maybe how many times she must've repeated this sentence to him), she slides one hand in his, pulls it in her lap and starts tracing lines on his calloused fingers. He closes them, trapping hers, and kisses her forehead, lingering. She revels in the gesture, nervous and hoping.

Yes, they'd been close before, but these little gestures as well as their intimacy were new.

"I know," he replies, quietly, eyes holding hers. "How did you sleep?"

"Very snuggly," she says, smiling. "I'm particularly taken with my first-class heater."

He looks down. "I'm sorry."

"Did I not say first class heater? Because I meant first class heater."

He smiles and starts to draw patterns on her hand with his thumb as they both gaze at the edge of the sky behind the mountains. It's light orange, a chilly tone rather than a warm one, and the snow-capped mountains seem dismal in comparison. It's around eight AM judging by the sky.

Looking away, Bella catches Edward staring at their joined hands. "Why do I have a feeling you're on the verge of saying something?"

"I am." He makes eye contact, embarrassed-looking. "No elephants. I just want to do it when we have the entire day for ourselves."

"Right," she replies. "It's just so unfortunate that my Friday is packed with pedicure appointments."

He laughs, motioning at the clean bandages as he turns. "Would you mind…?"

"Not at all," she says, curling legs beneath her as she cleans and binds his upper back. When she's done, she accidentally-on-purpose slips her feet on the carpet next to his, and so they sit in silence for a few moments, legs warmed by a fireplace, embers glowing in front of them and puppies wailing in the distance. Edward, once again, intertwines her fingers with his and starts touching her scars, slowly and deliberately. Bella waits, watching him with no intention of shying away.

"Will you ever tell me the story behind these?"

He trails lines along her scars, and without explaining, Bella turns her leg so that he's able to see the side of her thigh, right above the knee, the only place where you could separate a bite mark from the general scarring on her calves. His hand halts, and his eyes snap to hers before he starts observing the nature of her scars more deliberately. She complies to his barely-there touch, twisting and turning her legs in order to show him all of them. It had never been a conscious decision to keep their origin from Edward, but the more he couldn't understand her aversion of a man's best friend, the less she wanted to explain.

But they were on the verge of something, truth, love, or pain, perhaps all three, and maybe it was time to let go of some things in her past.

"Your dad's Rottweiler?" he asks, voice low and horrified.

"Most of it doesn't look like bite marks because he gnawed more than anything, tore away some skin, stuff like that."

Freaked by her calm attitude, he covers the clear bite mark with his entire palm. "You never… I've seen you on the verge of tears, refusing to leave the car at the sight of a Rottweiler, but you never said…"

"At first, dad thought he could make me get used to him by letting him sniff me. I was five, I think. But he had a telephone call and Lassie freaked me out, so I started running and…" She motions at the scar he's holding. "I know I shouldn't have run. I know. But I was only five, and I was already terrified, and he left me… He seemed regretful enough when I was bandaged and got a tetanus shot. I avoided Lassie like the plague. But in second grade, I was playing at home and accidentally drew all over dad's contracts, and as punishment, he—locked me in the back yard, with Lassie, and I… I didn't even move, but the dog, I don't know, smelled my fear, but at least I knew to lie on my stomach this time and cover my neck… in fifth grade, it—"

"Bella," Edward whispers, pulling her knees on his lap when he crushes her in a hug, tightly holding on to the back of her neck when he squeezes her close to him. "I'm so fucking sorry for teasing you."

"It's okay," she mutters, remembering how playful he'd been; perhaps she hadn't been scared because she trusted him, and she knew he'd never actually drop her. He'd never actually let her get hurt, at least not physically.

"But it's not. And I know you agreed to meet the dogs today, but you don't have to. Hell, I'll carry you for the rest of your life if you want."

Bella presses a kiss under his collar bone.

"How is your father not in jail for how he treated you? Was nobody curious as to what happened to your legs?"

"They were, but dad promised to punish me if I told anyone, so I learned to hide it. I don't even mind how my legs look anymore, but I'm used to not showing it. Some habits are hard to break."

Running fingers through her hair, Edward looks at the embers in the fireplace without actually seeing them. "Your grandpa… He caught on, didn't he?"

"It's the only time in my life I've seen him angry. He's so gentle, you know? But he went ballistic. He reported him to Child Protective Services, too, but dad has connections, so he—I don't know how to say it. He bought himself a clean reputation, in a way. But when I asked grandpa if I could fly off to Michigan after my last day in eighth grade, he scooped me up and hugged me and never said a word. Next thing I know, I had a ticket. Flew all by myself, too. I can never repay him."

"You could get your father kicked out of D.C. if you said a word."

"I know."

Edward holds her, fisting her curly hair and pressing her tightly against his chest. "You are a remarkable woman."

She squeezes him back, smiling but not saying anything as Edward continues to trail lines along her skin ever so gently. It's new, this kind of intimacy, and Bella lets herself enjoy it. She lets herself hope.

"You don't have to meet the dogs if it's too much," he repeats. "I'll carry you."

"From your luxury bathroom to the house and back again for the next week? What an adventurous holiday I'm about to have."

"I mean it," he says, pulling back to look in her eyes.

"I know you do." She pulls him in another hug, kissing his cheek. "But maybe it's time I met them. You only have to promise not to leave me alone with them. Not even as a joke. I won't get it, and I'll die of terror."

"I'd rather die."

She nudges him. "I'm serious."

He kisses the top of her head before getting up. "So am I," he replies, barely a whisper, as he starts getting dressed. He waits for her in the hallway; making sure Alice has her food and water, boiling water for tea on the porch with her Esbit cubes and putting the bag he'd prepared for their three-day adventure next to the door. She emerges, pulling on his old but warm coat, drowning in it, and sends him a smile when he takes her hand in his and squeezes it. All seven dogs are at the edge of the forest, surrounding gran, and they make Bella nervous.

"How badly do you need to pee?" he asks, eyes amused when she grimaces.

"On a scale from zero to ten? Maybe… a seven."

"Okay," he replies, smiling. "We can work with a seven."