Chapter 26

Together Again

Renesmee

"Ready to go?" Mom asked, as I finished putting my things in my bag.

"It's been almost seven weeks," I smiled. "I'm more than ready to go home."

December 8th, six weeks and five days since homecoming, and I was finally deemed healthy enough to go home. I couldn't believe that everything happened almost two months ago. It still was so fresh in everyone's minds.

I was so glad to be going home. Everyone was. It was proof that I was better, that I still had life to live. Being home would make it real.

"I'm glad to see you're finally going home," My favorite nurse said, coming in the room. He brought in one of those big wheel chairs that had a basket to carry all of those 'Get Well Soon' balloons and flowers I've received over the last couple weeks.

"Let me change, and then I'll be ready," I picked up a pair of jeans and a shirt that Mom had brought me, and went into the little bathroom attached to the room.

Taking off the t-shirt and sweat pants I had been wearing, I took a good look at myself in the mirror. Honestly, I looked pretty bad. I had a thick pink scar, from the base of my collarbone, down the middle of my breasts, and straight down to my pubic bone, not to mention the scar I had in the small area above my collarbone, at the base of my neck from the trach. I had lost a lot of weight in the weeks I was in the hospital. The morphine made me extremely nauseous, and I hadn't really been eating anything lately. My source of nutrients had been coming from another bag of IV fluids, so I wouldn't starve. I didn't look anorexic, but I was fairly close. My hair had also become slightly thinner since I've been here, but that's also because of the weight loss. Soon, hopefully, I would be back to my normal weight.

Sighing, I put on the jeans, and tied the belt to the last notch, hoping it would keep my jeans on. I slipped on the shirt, now baggy on my skinny frame. I pulled my hair into a low side ponytail, and left the bathroom.

"Okay, Mark, give me the damage. I think I can take it," I sat in the wheelchair. Mom handed me my duffel bag, and I set it on my lap. After all of the balloons and flowers were placed on the chair, we left the room.

"Drink lots of water, eat four to five small meals, instead of three large meals. You can take the prescribed medication for pain management, but that means that you can't be driving until you are off the meds. You can resume physical activity, however, it is up to your coach, and Dr. Torres on whether or not you can resume cheer leading. Your pre-op appointment is set for December 19th, and your laparoscopy; I believe is set for January 9th. Everything else you need to know is in this packet," He handed me a small packet of discharge information, as we headed down the hall.

"What would I ever do without you, Mark?" I smiled.

"You wouldn't have had as much of a fun hospital stay," Mark teased back with a white grin.

Mark took us to an elevator, and then we were in the main lobby of Swedish, where we were met with several doctors and nurses, clapping. From where I was, you could see several members of the press standing ready outside the doors.

I took in a deep breath, as we surveyed the lobby.

"I can do this," I said, closing my eyes.

"We could use the other entrance," Mark offered

"No, let's just go this way," I said, sounding determined.

"Okay," Mark shrugged.

We walked out of the elevator, and into the lobby.

"Glad to see you're finally leaving," Dr. Sloan said, as we went passed him.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"Congrats on your recovery," A nurse smiled.

"Don't come back now, you hear?" Another nurse joked.

"I won't," I laughed, waving goodbye to her.

There were a few other words of congratulations, before we hit the doors of the hospital.

"We could always use the entrance at the west wing," Mark said. "we could avoid the press all at once."

"No, no," I shook my head, and took a deep breath. "I'll have to face them sometime. Let's just get it over with."

"Okay," Mark said while laughing. "You're funeral,"

"Not funny, Mark," Mom said, glaring at Mark.

As the doors opened, the security guards tried harder to keep the reporters from blocking our path to Dad's car, waiting for us at the end of the walkway.

"Miss Cullen!" One shouted. "How does it feel to know your boyfriend's father tried to kill you?"

"How does it feel to know the same man also tried to kill your father?" Another asked.

Cameras flashed around us.

"How does it feel to be alive?"

Flashes nearly blinded me, "Can you tell us if you and your boyfriend are still seeing each other after his father did this to you?" I shot a glare to the man who said that.

"Hey, knock it off!" Mark shouted back. "Leave her be."

There were a few other questions, before we made it to the waiting car. Dad was standing outside of it, waiting for us. A few reporters were also trying to question him, but he shoved them aside.

"Look, we're trying to get our lives back to normal. It would help us greatly if you god-awful people would just leave us alone already," Dad nearly yelled at the reporter.

"It's been nearly seven weeks, just give it a god-damned rest!" He looked over at Mom, Mark, and I, and looked a little embarrassed to have been yelling at a news reporter.

"Dr. Cullen," Mark nodded, sounding impressed.

Dad raised his eyebrows, closed his eyes, and smiled, shaking his head. "Well, let's go. I'm sure everyone at home is more than excited to see you,"

He stretched his hand out, and he helped me out of the wheelchair.

"Thanks." I smiled.

"Of course," Dad gave me a kiss on my forehead. He opened the door for me, and I slipped into the backseat of the Land Rover. After everything else was put in the back, we were on our way home.

xXx

"Welcome home!" Alice exclaimed, as Mom, Dad, and I walked into the front door.

"Wow, guys," I smiled, walking upstairs, and looking at the decorations Alice and Rose put up.

"Ali, did you really have to?" Dad asked with a small laugh.

"Of course I did!" Alice protested. "It's the first time the whole family's been together since the shooting. And we have lots to celebrate." She winked over at me.

"Nessie!" Hayden and Hyatt said in sync, sliding down the hallway in their socks.

"Boys," Rose closed her eyes, looking annoyed.

"Sorry, Mom." They said together.

"Hey, Little Terrors!" I laughed. I gave each of them a fist bump.

"Have you been good for Jake so far?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Define 'good'." Hyatt said with a smirk.

"I still don't know why you didn't name them 'Fred' and 'George'." I told Rose with a laugh

"Speaking of your boyfriend…" Hayden started.

"Is he as great a kisser as you said?" Hyatt finished while giving me a classic evil Emmett smile.

My checks flushed red, and grew increasingly hot.

"Boys!" Rose looked shocked.

Emmett tried to stifle his laughter, and the twins burst out in it.

"Dad said that you told Jake that he was a great kisser in front of everyone." Hyatt continued.

I looked at Emmett, the glare was not missed.

"It was just a few days ago, Black Friday," Emmett started, trying to collect himself.

"You weren't as high as you were the week before, but you were in that happy, fuzzy, warm state of being high. Dad, Edward, and Jasper were with us, and while Jasper and I were telling Eddie about the game, Jake came into the room, and gave you this little kiss. You smiled, and said that he was a great kisser." Emmett snorted, "But then, little miss Renesmee over here started crying. It was awful, because then Eddie came in and went on this rampage, and then accused me of harassment and brought up that bitch who tried to press harassment charges against me freshman year."

"EMMETT!" Rose screamed, "Language!"

"I am never going on morphine again," I said, after a few minutes.

"Very good decision, Nessie," Dad said with a small laugh.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"I think he's downstairs with Aimee." Esme said.

"Thanks," I smiled, and went downstairs.

I found Jake downstairs. He was leaning over the playpen, watching Aimee sleep. I smiled, and gently leaned against the door frame.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Nessie," He turned his head, smiling. "I'm glad to see you're home." He stood up, and walked over to me. Putting his arm around my waist, he gave me a chaste kiss.

"I'm sorry about apparently telling everyone that you're a great kisser," I chuckled.

"Well, I am, aren't I?" Jake gave me a cocky grin.

"True…" I smiled. Jake enveloped me in a light hug, and I moved my chin up on his shoulder, just over where he had been shot. I moved my head to fit the hollow of his neck, and breathed his woodsy smell, really taking him in, for the first time since the shooting.

"I love you," I sighed into his neck.

"I love you, more." Jake kissed the crown of my head.

"I know," I smiled, leaving Jake's embrace. "I overheard you and Henry talking right before I actually fell asleep."

"I see that," Jake laughed a little, as we left the embrace. I noticed a small box on the couch, and went to go check it out.

"Whose is it?" I asked Jake, taking it in my hands and sitting on the couch.

"It's mine," Jake said, sitting next to me. "Rachael found it in our dad's old room. It was left for me."

"Are you going to open it?" I asked. "You've had it for nearly five weeks by now. Don't you want to know what's inside? What Billy left for you?"

"No." Jake said curtly. "And I never will. That man has been out of my life for twelve years. I want nothing to do with what's in that box."

"Jake, you can't honestly hate him, he's your father."

"He's paid no care to me, Rebecca, or Rachael since Mom died. He tried to kill you. I have every right in the world to hate him. He doesn't care about anything or anyone since she died. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hate him."

"Because he's your father, Jacob," I argued.

"That doesn't mean anything,"

"He loved you, Jake."

"Then why the hell didn't he get his act together after she died?" Jake yelled, but then went quite, remembering that Aimee was still sleeping.

"You would know the answer better than I do," I said quietly, getting up from the couch.

"You will open that box, Jacob, if it's the last thing I do." I went upstairs and slammed my door shut.

He will be opening that box.