Time is never time at all

You can never ever leave

Without leaving a piece of youth

And our lives are forever changed

We will never be the same

The more you change, the less you feel...

"Tonight, Tonight," - The Smashing Pumpkins

I don't own Twilight.

AmeryMarie and famouslyso are the guinea pigs. I shudder to think what these chapters would resemble without your input. Thank you, ladies.

-Chapter 25: Cohesion-

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Frost coated the grass, lending an icy glitter to the landscape of the lawn. Fall pansies bowed under the extra weight, the lingering splashes of color muted beneath the morning mist. The air was fresh, the chill invigorating, silent except for the occasional bird call, and the lack of breeze made my perch on the porch of the bed and breakfast seem like a cocoon.

A very, very cold cocoon.

In my nervous, last minute packing spree the day before, I'd forgotten my heavy winter coat, so I had to make do with Edward's suit jacket. While it carried that scent of man and sandalwood that always meant "Edward," it wasn't the warmest article of clothing, especially when one was sitting outside before dawn in a pair of flimsy cotton pajama pants and an even thinner tank top.

When I woke up tangled in his arms this morning, I couldn't remember being happier. Warmed by layers of sleep and soft covers and man, I felt safe and secure, and it was easy at first to keep thoughts of my father away. But the longer I laid there, the more disturbing my thoughts became, bringing with them my old enemies—the cynical, belittling whispers that vied for attention in my brain, and I found myself having a harder than usual time reasoning them away.

They told me I hadn't really made any progress at all—that once one bad thing happened, I'd jumped right back into my old patterns.

I'd slept with Edward at the first sign of trouble, and all that was missing was the alcohol. I was nearly convinced it was about love, about reconnecting, about showing him and myself that we could get closer again, be a couple. Unfortunately, there was still that tiny, bitter, insecure bit of me that said it was all about forgetting, all about altering my state-of-mind. That it was just one step backward in my journey.

And I didn't want to believe that. It would break me. I loved Edward, more than was good for me, but I couldn't do anything about it. It was natural for me to want him, right? I had to tell myself that last night hadn't been about distractions, or even pleasure. It had been about love and comfort and the closeness we both needed after all our time apart.

That, more than anything, told me it hadn't been a mistake. And though I'd be hard-pressed to remember a better sexual encounter, I found myself remembering what had happened afterward just as well. He'd held me so tightly in his arms as we fell asleep, his fingers drifting gently over my back, the soft strands of his hair tickling my neck as he rested his cheek on my breastbone. There was no tension in his frame except for that used to hold me; his face was unlined and peaceful as we rested together, cocooned in blankets and each other, arms and legs entwined.

It just couldn't be wrong. I wouldn't let it. I still had another month left in Vancouver, another month without Edward, but I knew I could do it. We could still have this, I could go back and finish what I'd started all those months ago and come back to him a happy, healthy person, if not completely whole.

But I would be someday.

No matter how rough it had been from the start, what I had with Edward was good for me. He was good for me.

My father, on the other hand, was not. He'd killed what was left of my love for him when he thrust that glass of champagne into my hand. I could still feel the tingling burn of the lifeless plastic against my fingertips, still hear the whisper that called to me.

Just drink it. One little glass of champagne won't matter...

There's barely any alcohol in it.

It would probably even give you a buzz. It's been so long...

This time I knew I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. If I took that drink, it would prove Charlie right—confirm everything he'd ever said about his weak, alcoholic daughter. And I'd die before I put myself in that position ever again. Instead of focusing on all the things he had said, I made myself think about all the things he hadn't.

Like I'm sorry.

Or I love you.

I'll be here for you.

You can count on me.

Things Edward told me on a regular basis.

I let go of the scared, sad girl that wanted her father to make things better, because I knew he never would. The only person that could was me. And I wanted Edward to be there for me while I did. Not because he could fix me, but because he made me want to fix myself.

Tears welled and spilled onto my cheeks, leaving searing trails of heat that quickly turned icy-cold in the morning air. Dawn was breaking over the mountains, slowly turning the midnight sky to a soothing violet canvas laced with pink and gold rays that promised a bit of sunshine.

The heavy oak door slammed behind me, and then a few solid, quick footsteps pounded across the creaky wood of the porch. I turned toward the sound to find Edward staring at me, surprise mingling with the fading terror on his face. His feet were bare and his shirt wasn't buttoned correctly, hanging half-open, his pants wrinkled from lying on the floor all night.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as I stood, frowning because I had to untuck my feet from their warm spot underneath my legs. I winced as they hit the cold boards of the porch and wished I'd thought to do more than tug on a thin pair of socks.

"What are you doing out here?" he returned sharply, his breath steaming. His whole frame seemed to deflate as he raked his eyes over me, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. I tucked my arms around my middle, huddling into his suit jacket, not quite able to suppress the sudden chattering of my teeth.

"Thinking. I couldn't sleep anymore."

"You couldn't do that inside, where it's warm? Or perhaps, you know, somewhere I know where you are?" His voice rose a little bit, and I suddenly understood why he was upset. I couldn't believe I hadn't realized it before.

He was always afraid I'd leave him—and who could blame him?

I rushed over to stand in front of him and threw my arms around his waist. He remained stiff and unmoving for a minute, but then he melted into me with a shuddering sigh. "I never know what to do when I wake up and you're gone," he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

"I thought you left. You were gone," he repeated, and I hugged him harder. He needed proof that I wasn't going to disappear. Only time would give him that.

"Let's go inside, okay? I've been out here too long. We'll talk, I promise."

We made our way back to the room, where he kicked off his shoes and slid the suit jacket off my shoulders. It was already wrinkled as hell from spending the night on the floor, so neither of us bothered to pick it up. He held up the covers so I could climb in and he followed, wrapping his arms and legs around me in a full-body hug.

"I won't do that again. I'll leave a note or something. I didn't think." I felt his lips in my hair, his breath on my scalp.

"I'd appreciate it...but, I need to have more faith in you, don't I?"

"I know you have faith in me, Edward. You always have, haven't you?"

I could feel him smile—his cheek firmed against my hair. "Always."

"Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"I think I do."

And I knew, too.

He pulled back to look at me, tilting my chin with a fingertip. My bottom lip quivered, and I hoped he thought it was just a remnant of the early morning chill. His lips met mine in a soft kiss that warmed me just as well as any extra blanket could.

I smiled when we parted, closing my eyes and reveling in the comfort I felt just from being near him. "I just want to spend the rest of this weekend with you. Right here. I don't want to leave this room."

"I was going to ask you if we were still going to the brunch." Sue's sister was hosting a post-wedding brunch for the family, one last giant, excruciating get-together before the weekend was over.

"I can call Seth and Sam to beg off. They'll just be jealous that they can't blow it off." I looked down at Edward's chest, not wanting to mention Charlie.

"You think I'm going to argue?" He looked completely relaxed for the first time this morning. "You know, we should get the fuck out of this hellhole, go back to Seattle. I've seen enough taxidermy to last me a lifetime."

I grinned. "Yeah?" It was impossible not to laugh at his enthusiastic nod.

"Definitely...though there might be something to be said for Forks and its only bed and breakfast. And this bed." He tugged me closer with one hand at the small of my back, the other grabbing my thigh to pull it over his hip.

"Why do I get the feeling that you have a soft spot for most flat surfaces?"

"Especially the horizontal variety, if you're involved. Though vertical ones have their uses." His mouth covered mine, his lips soft and hungry. He rolled toward me, letting me have his weight, pushing me into the mattress.

Laughing, I turned my head to the side, because if I let him keep kissing me any longer, there wouldn't be any talking for quite a while. "You have a one-track mind."

"I wouldn't have a dick if I didn't," he quipped, nipping at the tender skin below my jaw. "Come on, I've been celibate for six months."

"Completely?" God, it was hard to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"I told you I'd wait for you, Bella."

"You didn't even do the...uh...five-knuckle shuffle?" Shit. So many great euphemisms for rubbing one out, and I pick that one? Lame.

And why did I have to make the hand gesture too?

"So you're asking me if I jerk off? All the time. Want to know why?"

"If you say the latest issue of Hustler, I'm going to be pissed."

"Not even close." He pinned me to the bed, interlacing his fingers with mine and pressing them into the sheets on either side of my head. "Though I'm impressed you went for the Hustler. Pretty hardcore."

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. "No comment." He bent down and stopped me—with his mouth. Just as I was getting into the kiss, he pulled back and rubbed the tip of my nose with his.

"I think my girl might like porn. I'll have to remember this."

"Like you'd be able to forget."

"That's not a no, then."

"You're right. It's not." I raised a brow and smiled coyly. He groaned and pushed his hips into mine, rubbing his erection against the apex of my legs.

"Fuck, I love you," he breathed, his lips grazing mine. He licked over my mouth, angling his head to thrust his tongue deep. I hooked my calf over one of his, trailing my heel up and down the curve of firm muscle, and he moaned. Releasing one of my hands, he trailed his fingers lightly down my side, pausing briefly to palm my breast before slipping under the loose waistband of my pajamas. I hadn't bothered to find my underwear when I'd dressed in the dark earlier, and I could tell by the way his kiss intensified that he was pleased. His teeth grazed my lower lip, biting gently, as he slowly stroked his thumb over my hipbone.

He raised his head, peering down at me, eyes hooded with desire, and the very air in the room seemed to crackle and spark. His heavy breath caressed my cheek in rhythm with the slow back and forth stroke of his thumb, marking a tingling path that had me arching against him. I was falling, sinking, drowning in his gaze, lost in the feeling of this thing between us that crept beneath my skin and warmed me from the inside out. Hope flared deep inside me, sparked only from the way he watched me, needed me. How could it be wrong, how could it be bad or dangerous, when this man looked at me like I was the rarest, most precious thing in this world?

"Don't fucking leave like that again." It wasn't a request, but a low, rough command. I shook my head in a silent agreement, not sure I could trust my voice in that moment. His hand curled into a fist against my lower belly, his knuckles brushing lightly over my mound. Then he opened his hand, pressing his palm flat against me, grinding the heel of his palm over my clit. His fingers framed my lips, squeezing them together, fingertips digging into my sensitized flesh. I arched into his hand, squirming, trying to force his fingers where I really wanted them. "Need something?" he asked, daring me to voice my desires.

"You," I whispered, biting my lip as he pinched lightly, sending a shock of pleasure darting up my spine.

"I needed you this morning." He pinched again, a little harder this time. "I fucking need you all the time."

"Oh, God..." I moaned softly, threading my free hand through his hair. He began moving his palm in a little circle, pressing, squeezing, driving me insane. At the same time, he thrust his hips against mine, the heated ridge of his erection pushing roughly at the very top of my thigh. Heat bloomed and built as he worked me, making my body throb as wetness began to coat his fingers. One finger traced the seam of my sex, sliding easily through my lips, pushing deep, but it wasn't enough. "More, Edward. I need more."

"I'll give it to you, baby," he murmured, planting soft kisses down my neck. Releasing my other hand, he shoved the strap of my tank off one shoulder and pulled the neckline down below my breasts. He scooted lower on the bed, cupping a breast in his large hand. His teeth scraped over my nipple as he worked another finger inside me and placed his thumb over the peak of my sex. Then he really settled in, working me fast and deep, adding a third finger. He wasn't gentle, biting and sucking on my breasts, likely leaving marks, moaning into my flesh as he drove me to a blinding, shattering orgasm with his fingers. It pulsed and rushed through my veins, burning me from the inside out.

I opened my eyes as his fingers left me, leaving me needing more. He was shucking his wrinkled trousers, and my mouth went dry as I watched his erection spring free from the restraining fabric. He kicked them off his ankles, bunching them at the foot of the bed, and then his fingers were fisting in the cotton of my pajamas, roughly tugging them past my knees until I could untangle them from my feet. He was inside me a second later, pushing, pulling, hands everywhere, and it was so, so good. I was splayed out before him, held wide open, lost in the rustle of soft sheets and the harsh rhythm of his breath as he held my body molded to his. His face hovered just above me, lips barely grazing mine, the molten green of his eyes catching and holding. Long fingers brushed stray strands of hair from my cheeks and threaded in the hair at the nape of my neck, using it as a handle to keep me still. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on; arching, twisting, taking as he gave me everything. When he came, trembling and shaking in my arms, I held him tighter, giving him all of me in return.

We laid there in silence for a while as our breathing slowed, still wrapped in one another's arms, limbs tangled together under the sheets. Edward's head was buried in the crook of my neck, his breath feathering over my collarbone.

"Don't fucking leave again," he whispered, no longer commanding, just repeating, pleading. It was an empty request, I knew, because he knew I couldn't make any promises. I didn't know what the future held for us, because nothing was ever concrete—but I did know that I'd never stop loving him.

So I told him just that. "I love you. Always."

Lifting his head, he watched me with knowing eyes and a soft smile. "Always."

-x-

The weeks following Charlie's wedding sped by.

My days were filled with wrap-up sessions, meetings, and more than a few goodbyes. I found myself taking on a more active role in meetings and groups, becoming one of the 'success stories' that new residents resented yet yearned to emulate. It was bittersweet, knowing that I'd been in the same place once...and it was possible I would be again.

I'd try my hardest to make sure that didn't happen; most of the time, I was sure it wouldn't. I wasn't the same person I'd been when I first arrived at The Orchard, and the change was definitely for the better. The events of the past that had broken me weren't forgotten, but they no longer dominated my every waking thought. Instead, I took them as they came, reasoned them through, using the tools I'd developed here in the last months. I still had my occasional bouts with doubt and fear and I had nightmares more often than I cared to admit, but I knew I could come out on the other side. I had a wealth of support in my friends, though Charlie's continued indifference was painful. It still hovered in the back of my mind, always present and piercing, making my stomach churn with nerves and insecurity, but I welcomed the pain in a way—because I could feel it without succumbing to my past demons.

Edward and I talked almost daily, both of us getting ridiculously excited as each day passed. I was still worried that we wouldn't have enough separation once I returned, but then I remembered how alone I'd felt when I pulled away from him these past months. I remembered how good it felt just to talk with him, to sit in silence in his arms, to feel the soft rhythm of his breath as he slept next to me. The real test would come when we were living in the same city, but I had faith that we could do this—we could be together without letting our connection swallow us whole.

I made all the arrangements for my return to Seattle—my cable was turned back on, my truck was being serviced, and Alice was all set to make sure the apartment was ready for me to come home. Of course, who knew what that meant when Alice was involved. I'd probably have an entire new wardrobe and a house full of new furniture when I got back. Plans for me to return to my usual AA meetings with Jake and Stephenie had been concrete for the last couple weeks, and I was looking forward to settling into a new routine at home.

Tanya left sober living two weeks before I was set to leave, and we promised to keep in touch. Before she returned to New York, we spent an unseasonably warm day at the beach, sharing a final batch of cookies and taking pictures. The day she left, she gave me an album filled with photos of our time at The Orchard, wonderful reminders of the friendship we'd forged from the ashes of our former lives.

It was my last full day in the house, and I bustled around the space, clad in messy sweats and an even messier ponytail as I readied the place for its next inhabitants. I had good memories of this place, and I hoped it could do for others what it had done for me. The last thing I packed up was the little desk in my bedroom. As I tucked away the things I'd amassed during my stay, I marveled at the four paper journals I'd managed to fill in my six months here, in addition to the memories of my mother that I kept in a document on the computer. Someday, when I was ready, maybe others would read it...Renee's fairytale.

The contents of the desk barely filled one cardboard box by the time I was finished, and I was down to the last item that rested atop the wooden surface—Edward's watch. I smiled as I remembered the first time he'd given it to me, right before my first meeting. A day hadn't gone by since I'd been here that I hadn't thought of it or held it at least once. The metal was always a cool, centering talisman in my hand, a reminder of all I had waiting for me back in Seattle. When I slipped it into my carry-on bag, I relished the excitement mixed with a twinge of fear, tucking it away deep inside, knowing, as I zipped the bag shut, that this meant I was really going home. To Alice and Jasper; to Jake; even Rose and Emmett...to Edward. To my family—the family I'd chosen, the family that had loved and supported me through it all.

To the people that really mattered.

The next morning, when I left the room for the last time, I left behind only one thing: a half-finished, rough wool scarf still attached to its ball of yarn. Maybe it would do the next person the good it couldn't do for me.

-x-

I could feel the damp, chilly air as I stepped off the plane and across the threshold of the jetway and made my way up the ramp. Welcome home, I thought, wishing the people in front of me would hurry up. For the life of me, I'd never understand why people walked so slowly in confined places. The oblivious couple in front of me meandered lazily up the corridor, dragging their roller bags so far behind them that I almost stubbed my toes on the wheels. I rolled my eyes and counted to ten in my head, easily dodging Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum when we finally entered the terminal.

The place buzzed with voices, pages and announcements as passengers and attendants alike hurried to their various gates and destinations. After a quick pit stop in the restroom, I made sure my hair wasn't sticking up in all directions from my fitful nap on the short flight and headed for baggage claim. My stomach wound into a knot with each step, and I found myself scanning the heads of the crowd ahead as I entered the claim. I told myself I was just looking for the correct baggage carousel, but unless the conveyor had wild, reddish hair and gorgeous green eyes, I was lying.

It took me a few minutes to spot him. He was sitting in a lone row of those uncomfortable airport chairs, his legs sprawled out in front without regard to the people around him, and he was sound asleep. A little laugh bubbled out of me as I neared him, noting the way his neck was bent at what had to be an uncomfortable angle and his mouth hung open, red lips parted just a bit. I wondered how long he'd been here, and then I hoped no one had picked his pocket while he sat there in dreamland waiting for my flight to arrive. As quietly as I could, I eased myself into the seat beside him to wait for the my luggage, avoiding the crowds of people who lined the carousel to watch the still motionless conveyor belt. I knew this airport well enough to know it was going to be a long fucking wait, and I was perfectly happy to pass the time watching Edward embarrass himself in public.

He was so handsome in his worn jeans, a soft, light green sweater, and a distressed leather jacket. His green scarf hung off of his collar and dangled over the back of the chair. I grabbed the end and lifted it, lightly brushing the fringe over his cheek. His nose wrinkled and his brows drew together, but he didn't wake. I caught an older couple watching us, all careworn faces and soft, knowing smiles. Before I knew it I was smiling back, perfectly willing to let them in on the moment.

Turning my attention back to my very own Sleeping Beauty, I tried again with the scarf, getting an annoyed grunt and another wrinkle of his nose. How he could be that out of it in a public place was beyond me. Well, actually, it wasn't, but all my theories involved being drunk. Finally the speakers blared above us, warning everyone that the conveyor was about to move, and Edward finally jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath. His hand went immediately to the back of his neck, and I swore I heard a crack when he straightened it. I just sat back, waiting for him to notice I was right beside him.

"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath as he stood, still unaware of my presence. It was so hard to keep from laughing as he searched the crowd and turned in a slow circle, his eyes aimed too high to see me right away. I stretched out one leg and lightly touched my toe to his shin, making him jump. "What the..." Those green cat's eyes landed on me, and the cloudiness of sleep and confusion dissolved as a smile spread wide across his face. "Bella!"

The airport became a blur as he grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. The tips of my toes barely touched the ground, and I held on to his neck, linking my fingers over the thick hair at his nape to keep myself steady.

"Hi," I whispered, closing my eyes and pressing my nose against the soft cashmere of his sweater. My head fit perfectly just under his chin, the warmth and hardness of his body the most comforting foil to my smaller frame. I took in deep, soothing breaths, soaking up everything his mere presence offered me, and somehow it felt more intimate than a kiss amongst tangled sheets. Here, in the midst of the lingering scent of jet fuel, musty luggage, and too many travelers, he smelled like home. Like fresh, green woods and rain, like a cool summer breeze beneath a clear night sky lit with thousands of stars.

"I missed you so much." The warmth of his breath tickled my scalp as he hugged me tighter, almost squeezing the air from my lungs before he set me down.

"You just saw me a few weeks ago," I said, trying to play it like I hadn't been counting down the hours—hell, the minutes—until this day. A raised eyebrow was all it took to let me know he didn't believe me for a second. "Okay, yeah, I missed you like hell, too."

"That's what I thought," he returned with a sexy slant to his smile as he slung an arm around my shoulders. "Let's get your stuff and get the hell out of here."

"Did you eat breakfast?" I asked as we made our way to the conveyor belt, where luggage was slowly but surely winding its way up from the bowels of the airport. Airport food left a lot to be desired, and my stomach was rumbling from the lack of sustenance.

He shrugged and shook his head. "Wasn't hungry. It was too damn early." Smiling down at me, he added, "But now...now I think I could eat." There was a dark glimmer in his eyes that heated my cheeks. My luggage approached and saved me from having to formulate a reply. I tried to snag the lightest bag, but Edward snatched it from my fingers and slung it over his shoulder, and by the time we headed out to the parking garage he looked like an overloaded bellhop. Since it was still so early, he'd gotten a good spot, so it didn't take us long to reach his Volvo. He hesitated as he started for the passenger side door and tried to fish the keys out of his pocket.

"And here comes the moment when our hero realizes there's such a thing as too much chivalry," I teased, reaching into his jeans to grab the keys. I might have copped a feel while he couldn't do anything about it, as weighted down as he was.

He rolled his eyes. "You're so ungrateful."

I popped the trunk and took one of the bags as he set it on the ground, heaving it into the car. "Not ungrateful, just independent. And stronger than I look," I told him flippantly. He smirked and we started loading the rest of the things into the trunk, rearranging the luggage until it was packed away to his satisfaction before slamming the lid.

Pinning me with a searing look, he backed me against the bumper and moved in, resting his big hands on my hips. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Me too. I was afraid of this for so long...but now? Now it feels good. It feels right." I slid my hands around his sides and linked them at the small of his back, tipping my head up to his. "Thanks for picking me up." I didn't just mean it in the literal sense. Though I was the only one who could help myself, he'd definitely been the catalyst that led to my sobriety...and I couldn't thank him enough for that.

"Anytime," he returned, a smile softening the predatory look in his eyes. His grip tightened on my hips as he leaned forward, lowering his head, his shadow blocking out the bare fluorescent lights that lit the garage. I closed my eyes as his lips touched mine, welcoming the way my heart tripped and then raced at the contact.

I was home, and this was real. My new life—one that had truly begun on a cold night at a B&B in Forks, yet was almost a year in the making—was finally becoming concrete.

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There you have it. Bella's come so far...and we've reached the end of the road for these two. I know I didn't give you much warning, but this just felt right. I've got an epilogue written, and I'll post as soon as I've got it betaed.

Thanks for hanging in there with me, through the blocks and the three-month waits in between updates while I tried out my angsty wings. I'm still not sure if they fit, but it was nice to try them on. I never know what to say here...just know that I'm beyond grateful that you've all taken this ride with me. Maybe I'll have something more profound to say when I post the epilogue. :)

Thank you for reading. I can't say it enough. Thank you.

On a side note, I'm a judge for the Let the Games Begin Contest, so get to writing your Sportswards. It's March Madness so there's plenty of inspiration out there. Deadline is March 23rd. To read the stories already submitted, visit http:/www . fanfiction . net / community / Let_the_Games_Begin_2011 / 89098 /