A/N Special thanks to Octoberland for the beta work.

Chapter 26 Finding our Way

Edward's POV

She looks surprised by my words. The expression makes her features even more endearing. I know she doesn't yet fully understand the meaning behind them. On the surface it would seem an odd thing to say; I've only been away from her for a few hours. If she could see inside my heart and mind she'd understand however, that I mean it in other ways as well. I've missed her. The beautiful creature I fell in love with that I can just now see coming back to me. There is nothing I won't do, won't give to bring her out of the darkness and into the light. I love her more than her human mind can comprehend.

I place a tender kiss on the warm skin of her neck and look towards Alice. She's still standing just out of sight, searching through our new found future, thankfully skirting her mind away from the more intimate details. She's looking for the bigger picture, focusing on the elements that pertain to her. I lower my voice to the level beneath human hearing.

"Alice, I need you to run interference. Bella and I need some time alone, but I don't want the house to be left unguarded." I wince internally at the thought that someone needs to be close by, and that someone probably needs to be Carlisle. Should anything go wrong tonight, I will need his guidance and support. I still have no idea if what I'm contemplating is even possible or if it will even be something Bella will want. So much has changed; nothing is the same. Not our previous innocent promises or vows, and certainly not us. Just as our love for each other has altered us forever, so has this hell we've endured. Still, I know one thing for certain. Whatever the outcome of this moment I will protect her in every way I can. Even if it means that my Father needs to be present during what should be - in a perfect world - private.

"I'll take care of it, Edward. Don't worry. I can see it's all going to be fine now. It's going to…Oh!" Her voice turns sharp. "Don't look at that, Edward. Just stay out of my head. I will tell you if there is anything you should know, okay?" She disappears into the woods, most likely to find Emmett and intercede before he can make an untimely appearance.

I realize I'm frowning when I feel Bella's fingers running over my forehead as though she can smooth away the expression. I rearrange my features into one of warmth, and lock the door on what Alice's thoughts had shown me. It had been too quick to interpret with any accuracy. Something to do with the meadow and something she needed to prepare for. Now is not the time for her to keep me in the dark about anything, but neither is it the time to stress that point with her. Not with Bella in my arms, and certainly not when I plan to make her understand with every means available to me that she is my life.

Stepping past the house's threshold I gently place her back on her feet. Whatever happens from this moment on will happen of Bella's own volition. Though she doesn't yet know it, she alone will control my every action.

Pushing all other thoughts from my mind takes a monumental effort, but I succeed and turn to face her. She looks tired and fragile and heartbreakingly beautiful. For a moment my fears threaten to make me contemplate all that could go wrong.

I offer her a slow smile, the one that always seems to make her pulse race. "You look tired, love. Shall we go upstairs?"

She's studying me intently, searching my face for some clue as to my mood. Holding out my hand in offering she takes it quietly and I lead her to the staircase.

"You had a difficult morning," I remark casually as we enter the bedroom. An untouched tray of food sits by the chair at the window. Her appetite has been non-existent since the attack and the damage it is doing to her body is apparent in the sharp feel of the bones in her hand and wrist. I resist the urge to reprimand her for not eating, choosing instead to hope that I can coax her to do so later. Her hand in mine is limp and as much as I worry about her health I know we have much more important things to tend to.

She sighs deeply. "I wish Carlisle hadn't called you. He can't...I can't keep expecting you to swoop in and pick up the pieces when I fall apart."

Her beautiful face is pinched in anger and frustration, and I watch fascinated as she battles back the emotions. She doesn't recognize her own strength but I do.

"I want to be there for you, Bella."

"Do you?" The words are muttered beneath her breath. In her upset she's forgotten my vampire hearing and when she realizes it she hurries on, rushing her words in an attempt to cover her slip. "I have to learn to start handling things on my own, Edward. You won...can't always be there." I don't miss the second slip either. That I've allowed her faith in me to erode to such a point is unforgivable.

Her arms slide around her middle and her breathing quickens. She begins a rhythm of swallowing and breathing that she's adopted to calm herself, and within only a few short minutes she's successful. Again I watch fascinated. Carlisle is amazed at her ability to do this so soon after all she's been through and I can't help but feel the same. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can manifest itself in many ways. Yet it is extremely rare for someone to be able to gain control over panic attacks as severe as hers in such a short amount of time. It is a pity she cannot see herself more clearly. For a human she is remarkably strong. The knowledge gives me the courage to push her.

"You spoke with Alice in the car today." Her face pales and she picks at imaginary lint on her sweater with overzealous concentration. Moving to stand in front of her I tip her chin up so that I can see her face. "Will you not ask the same questions of me, love? I might be in a better position to answer them than she is, don't you think?"

Scowling slightly she pulls away and goes to the chair, curling her legs beneath her and closing her eyes. "I should know better than to say anything to anyone whose head you have access to," she mutters crossly. I settle onto the ottoman at her feet fighting the urge to smile. "You don't have to do this, Edward." There are tears in her eyes when she opens them. I want to launch into a long list of all the reasons why I do have to do this, ending with an expletive filled rant on how ridiculous her beliefs are. I rein in the impulse however, never more grateful for my years of practiced self control.

"I beg to differ, Bella. I very much have to do this."

"Why?" she whispers softly, sadly. "You've already seen it in Alice's mind."

"I don't want to see it in Alice's mind. I want to hear it from you."

Bella's POV

He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly with his eyes closed. He's angry, though I'm not sure why. It isn't me asking to have this conversation. Tiny flutters of panic compress down on my chest getting worse with the realization that all I want to do is crawl out of this chair, and straight into his lap. I don't care that he's upset, I need his arms around me the same way I need air. God, I'm pathetic.

His eyes are still so dark when he opens them. "Ask me the same questions you asked Alice please." Words spoken with such tight control should never sound as velvet as his do. I force my eyes away from those impossible dark depths and look out the window. Fat drops of rain have begun to fall sporadically, making tiny thumping noises on the glass.

"I'm afraid Charlie won't ever forgive me," I say, fully expecting him to call me out on the obvious evasion. He doesn't. With a small sigh he reaches across and takes my hand. His thumb brushes back and forth over the skin between it and my index finger, an innocent cool touch that electrifies my entire body.

"Look at me please." Like an automaton I instantly turn my head to him. "I've been inside your Father's mind, Bella. He does not blame you. He is not angry with you. He loves you very much, nothing has changed, nor will it." His tone is firm and his eyes never waver. "Next question."

I try to tug my hand away from his, but he holds it firmly. "Don't make me do this, Edward." His eyes turn sad, though I can see the determination behind the emotion. He isn't going to let this go. I yank my hand harder feeling a snap of anger and he releases me.

"Ask me the question."

"Why, so you can lie? So you can make promises you probably can't keep? So you can tell me what I want to hear? You lied to me before, Edward. Why should I ask you now when we both know you could change your mind tomorrow? Or am I supposed to ask you every day, just to be sure?" I can hear myself yelling and the words I'm saying make me feel sick when his face twists in pain. I'm not playing fair. Throwing things he can't change back in his face. The panic is clawing at my throat again and it makes me mean, makes me want to hurt him.

"Ask me the question," he repeats stubbornly, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Swear you'll tell the truth." My throat closes on the plea and I can taste tears in my mouth. I didn't even know I'd started to cry. There is a red tinge to the corners of each of Edward's eyes and though I know better I'd almost swear he's crying too. The sadness overflowing them is so heavy he might as well be.

"I swear, Bella."

I can't stand to look at his face, his impossibly perfect angel's face. Not now so I close my eyes again. "Are you going to leave me?" The tightness in my throat clamps down on the words choking out all volume so that I can't even hear the question. Only the slight vibration of my vocal chords and the sound of air passing over my lips lets me know I even asked. It doesn't matter, I know he hears.

His answer comes without a pause. "Never."

I wait for more. Wait for promises, for explanations, for empty words that don't come. After a long time I open my eyes. He hasn't moved and the red tinge around his eyes is darker, blending in with the purple semi circles below them. He reaches for my hand again. His grip is solid and he flips my hand, palm down, placing his thumb just beneath the engagement ring that had once belonged to his Mother. His eyes do not leave mine but the pad of his thumb unerringly finds the center point of the gems. He presses it down so that the warm gold band digs into the bone, painfully reminding me of everything he's promised.

"Never," he repeats adamantly one last time, and I fall utterly and completely apart.

Edward's POV

When she begins to cry it hurts. I want so badly to pull her out of that chair and into my arms. To soothe her with my touch, but I don't. She needs to do this; I need her to do this. I tell myself it's cathartic, human, necessary. I tell myself a million things and I cling to her hand trying to convince myself that this simple touch is enough for now. We are not done and it is bound to get worse before it gets better.

When the crying turns messy I let go of her just long enough to bring her Kleenex. When it gets messier still, a warm damp wash cloth from the bathroom, then a glass of water and a pillow from the bed. Eventually I hold not just one hand but both of them. And just when I know I can't take anymore and begin to reach out and pull her into my arms, she finally stops.

The rain has turned from drizzle to downpour, and through red swollen eyes she watches the water spiral down the outside of the glass. The tip of her nose is just as red as her eyes. She's a mess and dozens of soggy tissues litter the floor and the chair around us. Despite it all she's never been more beautiful or more alluring than in this moment. I have a sudden vision of lifting her off the chair and tumbling her down onto the bed. Of stripping her naked and making love to her over and over again until there isn't a single doubt left in her mind of how much I love her. Then maybe I'd bundle her into the car, drive all night to Vegas. Find the nearest cheesiest Elvis impersonating Justice of the Peace and get married in our jeans and t-shirts. Get a room at the nearest hotel and stay there for weeks, never letting her out of bed, learning all the different ways we could love each other. All the different ways I could make her pant my name until she's too spent to do anything more than sleep in my arms. Peacefully and without the nightmares that have haunted her, trusting me once again to keep her safe.

She turns back from the window, catching me in mid thought. Whatever she sees on my expression makes her eyes widen and her heart thump. I force the expression to go flat. This is the worst possible time for fantasies.

"Tell me why you think I would ever leave. Why you doubt me."

A small touch of pink dusts her cheeks. It is so faint it is barely there, but the absence of her infamous blushing over these few weeks have left me aching for its return. If it could my heart would be racing at the sight, slight as it is.

"You already know. Why do I have to repeat what you've already heard and seen in Alice's head?" The small flare of kittenish temper is nearly as titillating as the blush. I want to kiss her and see if I can taste that anger in her mouth. Instead I shake my head.

"Tell me, Bella."

Exhausted she lets her head fall against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling. "You've seen everything," she whispers. "Everything he did to me, everything I said to him. Why would you...?" With her head tipped back I can see the throb of her pulse, see the effort it takes for her muscles to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Why would you want me after that? How can you want me after that?"

"Bella, you've seen me at my worst. You watched me kill Victoria, you watched me almost kill you that day in the ballet studio when James..." I can't finish the sentence, the memory even now more than I can bear. "You've seen me in my darkest moments, you know all my darkest secrets and yet you love me anyway. If I told you that someone had hurt me, would you love me less, want me less?"

"No, of course not."

I wait for her slower thoughts to catch up. The slight look of chagrin makes me smile even though she doesn't look at me.

"It's different," she whispers, but her tone is tinged with new doubt.

"Is it?"

"Yes, I mean... I don't know." Failing afternoon light catches the reddish tones in her hair as she shakes her head in confusion. A wayward curl falls across her cheek and her eyes flash in sudden irritation. "You don't touch me anymore. Not like you used to...before." The delicate rose color on her cheeks flares a little darker this time. "I mean you touch me but..." She sighs in a sound that is half embarrassment half frustration, and drops her head to look at me. "Before we were...practicing for our wedding night." The rest of her words come out in a rush as though she's afraid I'll interrupt. "A part of me understands, Edward. Really I do. I know you're worried about me, that you're trying to be careful, to give me time. But another part of me feels like maybe..." Exhaling hard enough to move the curling strand of hair off her cheek, she ducks her head and picks at the fresh Kleenex in her hands.

Placing my finger beneath her chin I force her to look back up at me again. I need to see her eyes, her expression, and the sweet beauty of her face. "Another part of you feels like maybe...?" I prompt. I could finish the sentence for her but I need to hear her say it in the hopes that my response will somehow reach her.

"Like maybe you've changed your mind. That maybe you don't want me like that anymore."

"Bella, I want you in all ways." I trace her lips with the tip of my finger marveling like always at their perfect supple warmth. With a sigh I take my hand away and fix her with a strong gaze. "But you have been hurt, love. What Jac..." I have to close my eyes and clench my hands into fists to finish the sentence. "What he did to you? That leaves wounds and not just the ones you can see." The anger is just as raw and brutal as always. I shove it away striving for my equilibrium. Rage at Jacob has no place in this conversation. When I open my eyes again I'm back in control.

"You need time to heal. Physically and emotionally." Frustratingly she looks away from me again, taking her expressions and her thoughts with her. I resist the urge to plead with her not to do so. She needs space and time to get her own thoughts in order. I know this level of candor is hard for her, even at the best of times. And this most certainly is not the best of times.

"I know it's going to take time to heal," she murmurs. "I just need to know you still want that with me."

In spite of my resolve to give her space I cannot handle being unable to see her eyes. "Bella, look at me please." I wait impatiently for her to comply, and then capture her face between my palms. The warmth of her is searing and wondrous. "I still want that with you, love. Very, very much."

For a second the impulse to show her exactly how much is strong. Her eyes however squash that impulse. Now that she can't look away I can see the fear and insecurity in their depths and I know we've come to the next point in her confession to Alice. I wait for her to voice her fears and when she does not I know that once again I need to push her past this. Lowering my hands to capture hers I ease my body back a little more than it was before, striving for an acceptable pressure free distance without losing contact.

"Do you want me to touch you like that again, Bella? Are you ready for that?"

She swallows nervously avoiding my gaze while her palms grow damp against mine. Her gaze flits restlessly around the room unable to settle on any one thing for more than a second. With a deep intake of breath I see her shoulders square and she looks at me bravely.

"Yes," she whispers licking her lips past a sudden dryness in her mouth. "But I'm afraid." A single tear hovers on her lower lash. Cupping her cheek I wait for it to fall and catch it on the tip of my thumb. It carries the essence of Bella's floral scent tinged with salt and sadness, the heat of it a shocking pierce on my skin. Her fear makes me ache with matching sadness.

"Tell me what you're afraid of," I ask quietly.

The pulse of her carotid artery beats out a steady rhythm against the fingers that find their placement beneath her jaw line. Another tear joins the first.

"I'm afraid that I won't...be able to...stand it." Her words catch on a small sob and she shakes her head turning her mouth to my palm. The sweet exhale of her breath on my skin feels exquisitely raw, awakening hungers I normally suppress. I realize that before the attack Bella and I had ceased to go a single day without pushing and testing the edges of our boundaries. I'd almost forgotten how erotic the feel of her soft sighing breaths across my skin were.

Her expression turns pleading, as though she's begging me to understand something as yet undefined. "I know that Jacob didn't..." She has to swallow several times before she can continue. "I know he didn't rape me. I know I was lucky that he didn't."

The churning ball of ice in my guts is suddenly so large I'm not sure my body can contain it. She has no real concept of just how true her words are. In those moments between Charlie's arrival and mine, I'd read Jacob's mind. He'd meant to finish what he'd begun. Whatever conscience or morality had governed him in his life it had been lost to the drugs and the rage that rendered him unforgivably violent. If it takes me the rest of my immortal existence I will make him pay for that violence. Not just the act he committed, but the one he'd contemplated as well.

She's looking out the window again, struggling for her words and this time I'm thankful. If she were to see the expression of pure hate on my face it would no doubt terrify her. By the time she looks back I've choked back both the look, and the impending explosion.

"Still, he touched me, Edward. In ways that you...haven't." Again her eyes plead for understanding. "I hate that," she cries. "I hate that so much, you have no idea..."

"Bella, I..." I can't stand to see so much pain but she cuts me off, squeezes my hand hard enough it probably will leave bruises on the undersides of her fingers.

"No! Let me finish, please." I lower my hand from her face and wrap it around the arm of the chair. The wood frame crackles beneath its plush fabric cover, compressed by the force of my grip. I don't know if I truly have the strength to endure this conversation. The urge to run from the room shames me into staying.

"Now that is all that's in my head. Him. His touch, the way it hurt, how scared I was, how sick it felt even when he was trying to be gentle..." She makes a small helpless choking sound and I wonder if she's going to be sick. I move slightly, prepared to help her if she is. Sensing my actions and the reasons behind it she shakes her head. "No, I'm okay. I'm alright." Slowly she forces her panic and illness down while I wait helpless and as sick as she.

"What if I can't stand it, Edward? What if I end up never being able to let you touch me? What if every time you do, all I remember is...that?"

I could tell her a million things in this moment. I could tell her it wouldn't matter, that I could live without it, that she never needed to prove anything or do anything and I would still love her for eternity. It's Emmett's words that ring in my head then, reminding me that no matter how true those vows would be for me, they wouldn't be for her.

Do you think I would do Rose any favours even now, if I didn't treat her the way I do? Like a woman and not a fragile artifact meant to be put on a pedestal and admired, but never touched?

Eventually all that we couldn't have would poison everything we could. Useless words and vows are not what she needs from me now anyway.

I can see the panic trying to take hold of her. Very gently I pull her closer to me, scooting my body to the edge of the ottoman so that I can wrap my arms around her trembling body. She comes to me eagerly and without restraint, rising onto her knees in the chair and throwing her arms around my neck.

Perfect. The feel of her, the smell of her, her innocent beautiful reaction, all of it perfect, and I smile in instant relief. To prove my growing theory I slide my hands up and down her back and she nestles further into the embrace. Feather light and cautious I kiss the side of her neck, her jaw, the tender pale skin of her tear stained cheek, slowly marking a path to her mouth. Once there I nuzzle her lips softly with my own, murmuring endearments and love words before kissing her carefully but thoroughly. She never once pulls away. Her fears are ungrounded. Whispering her name in soft praise for her courage I can only pray that my own fears will be just as equally ungrounded. If ever a moment existed where I needed to be worthy of her trust it's now. Please God, don't let me fail her.

Bella's POV

Edward's arms are exactly what I need. All the sadness, all the aching pain both physical and mental eases in his embrace. Still present, but suddenly and wonderfully tolerable. For the first time in weeks I start to feel hopeful. Even better than that is the newfound belief I have in him and his commitment to me. I still don't know what our future holds. I still can't say everything is going to be fine. But at least I can breathe. At least now the crush of fear that he'll leave is gone. Or worse that he'll stay, resenting me, blaming me for everything that has happened, and forcing me to make the choice to leave.

I still don't know however, if what I'm hoping is possible, and that hurts. I won't let him marry me if I don't know. I won't condemn him to a life without a real wife, in every sense of the word. I might be a virgin, I might even be naive, but I know enough about love and marriage to know that it wouldn't be fair to him if I can't get over what's happened. Living with the Cullens has taught me that. Especially in the last few weeks. All their quiet glances, the soft touches, the disappearing acts into bedrooms where open doors are suddenly tightly closed. The soft sounds that carry even in a house as large as this one. Telling me that they're finding comfort from the constant stress that lingers in the aftermath of Jacob's and the Packs betrayals. I can't ask Edward to give that up. Even if he doesn't yet realize what exactly he'd be sacrificing, my human hormones do.

Edward's mouth finds mine, and all those thoughts spin dizzily away in the sensation and taste of him.

"Bella," he murmurs against my mouth somehow making my name sound like high praise. He whispers that he loves me, needs me, a dozen inconsequential nonsense things that somehow are exactly everything I need to hear.

When he pulls back so I can breathe I can taste my own tears on my tongue. He brushes them away gently and leans his forehead against mine. The sweetness of his breath is nearly as dizzying as his kisses.

"What if I can't, Edward?" I ask again, helplessly. Will he leave me then? Will I leave him? Can I leave him?

"Tell me what happened today at Charlie's, Bella. What happened to set the panic attack off?"

The question confuses me, and I shake my head. "Just tell me." His hands create the softest patterns on my back, soothing me into compliance.

"I'm not sure exactly. Carlisle was changing Charlie's bandages. The surgery incisions are so...raw. I guess it was hard to see them. Then I started thinking about last night and everything you would have seen in my mind. It came on so fast."

"And then?" He pulls back a bit to see my face, smiling softly in encouragement.

I shrug, frustrated. I don't want to talk about this now, but I sense he isn't going to let this go anymore than he's let anything else go today. "Then I started to fight it off and Aunt Julie touched my back. You know I hate that, I can't help it..." I sound overly defensive and he hushes me gently.

"It's okay. You don't need to explain that, I understand. But, love? Where are my hands right now?"

I frown at this inane question. "On my back... Oh."

He smiles. "Yes, oh. I also just kissed your neck." He reiterates his point by doing so again. "And your jaw." The cool touch of his mouth makes me shiver. "And," he breathes, a second before he kisses me again. "Your mouth." His tongue skims over my bottom lip creating a new more powerful shiver. Pulling back he studies my face for a long moment. "Bella, you never flinch when I touch you, not even when I touch your back, an action that done by anyone else frightens you terribly. I am not saying we won't have to be careful. I'm not saying you have nothing to fear. What I am saying is that for you and I there is no such thing as 'can't'." Gently he brushes his lips back and forth over mine once more. I feel nothing but pleasure at his touch. No panic, no fear beyond a slight nervous edge that is completely tolerable.

His arms around me are cold, reminding me that I'm not exactly feeling warm myself. I try to hide the shivering by pressing closer to him. He senses it anyway, like I'd known he would.

He pulls back again and something about his expression surprises me. He looks suddenly intent and determined. Even more determined than he's been before. "Are you cold?"

The question doesn't match the expression, but I nod anyway. There really is no point in denying it. My teeth are going to start chattering next and give me away.

The determined look grows. "Do you trust me?"

Licking my lips nervously I nod again.

Careful of the still sore spots on my body he seems to have memorized he pulls me closer until I'm on my knees at the edge of the chair. Then he lifts me onto his lap. "Wrap your legs around my waist, love."

When I comply he rises to his feet and carries me to the bathroom, kissing me slowly the entire way. By the time he sets me down on the counter I'm too breathless to care about the absence of the mirror behind me. Moving away, he starts the water in his huge walk in shower, adjusting the temperature carefully.

"What are you doing?" I ask inanely. It is rather obvious after all.

"You're cold," he replies with a small smile. "I thought a hot shower might warm you up." He moves back to me and cups my face in his cold large hands. "Bella? Will you let me do something for you?"

"What?" There is no power or volume to my voice, not when he's looking at me like he is. It is a wonder I can even breathe at all.

One of his hand moves down to my neck, and he leans down to brush a soft kiss over my cheek and on the corner of my mouth. "Will you let me take care of you, love?" He draws back just enough to see my face, to no doubt judge my reaction. So far I'm turning to mush. Melting under what I now see as Edward in full on seduction mode.

"Will you let me help you shower?"