Hai. I've missed you.

The night was still, with a smooth blanket of snow showing stark white against the skeletal black silhouettes of the bowing trees. High up on the mountainside Edward could hear the voices of Carlisle and his brothers, urgent and exultant with the quickening of the hunt, the heady musk of an elk herd heavy on the air. He should have been running along side them, yearning as he was for their acceptance, as Edward was as yet unwilling to find relief in their ready forgiveness, but try as he might, he could not concentrate on the pursuit.

Instead, he found himself creeping through the timberline, attempting to untangle the jumble of thoughts that clouded his mind. The customary burn of the bloodlust was gone, replaced instead with the acute awareness of the way his clothes pressed against his skin, the gentle rasp of fabric a subtle reminder of the hot, silken flame of Bella's flesh as her naked body had moved against his. Edward shivered, though he was most certainly not cold. His memory was flooded with images; images of Bella transported, her eyes heavy lidded with lust; of Bella above him wild and uninhibited; round and soapy in the shower; split and ripe like the most luscious of fruits; a gorgeous blush settling duskily over her bare breasts; tight and arching beneath him as he thrust into her welcoming heat, over and over, mindless and helpless, until the dark wave took them both.

And he knew now that the reaction that had so terrified him when he first encountered her was not the awakening of his baser instincts, but a response that he had been too inexperienced to understand. It was not the need to answer the overwhelming call of her blood that made him want to sink his teeth into the soft skin of her throat – it was the primal desire to mark her, to claim her as his own before all, her body, her mind, tasting her, pouring himself into her until the edges of their separate beings blurred, until they merged together as one.

Blood singer, Carlisle had called it, Edward knew now that the term was a poor approximation of what Bella's attraction really meant. Heart singer, he would call her, soul healer. It had not been an exaggeration when he called her a pearl. Beautiful and unique, a precious gift made just for him.

He could only believe that he had been so made for her.

But Edward, being Edward, still doubted.

He had no time to indulge in that train of thought, as Emmett suddenly slammed into him from behind, chasing full tilt after a panicked bull elk. The impact sent them tumbling, spraying the drifts of snow like sea foam, until they came to rest beneath a large cedar.

"Christ, Edward, where are you tonight?" Emmett scrubbed the snow out of his face. "I never get the drop on you like that."

Edward shrugged as he righted himself, carefully noncommittal. He felt as if he admitted to the rather tumultuous consummation of his and Bella's relationship he might sully it somehow – not to mention exposing himself to another round of merciless teasing from Emmett and Jasper.

There had already been enough "special flower" jokes about his own virginity to last Edward a thousand lifetimes.

Emmett looked at him long and searchingly, and then smirked, and punched Edward solidly in the shoulder.

I thought so. And then, aloud, "She's something else, is Bella."

Edward grunted, rubbing the spot where Emmett had hit him.

"She makes you better, I think. More transparent, at least." Emmett paused for a moment. "I hope she stays," he added fervently.

"I think she will," Edward picked a chunk of ice out of his ear. "I don't know why – I've certainly done nothing to deserve her."

"That's just the problem with you, Edward," Emmett grumbled in exasperation. "You always think you have to do something in order for you to fit into other people's expectations. You did it with Carlisle and Esme, you did it with us, and Bella . . . Jesus Lord, I don't even know where to start."

Edward opened his mouth to protest, and then abruptly shut it: there was no defense against the truth.

"You never trusted her – that she loved you enough to see past what you – what we are. You just assumed that because you hated yourself for not being human that she would eventually do the same." Emmett pondered a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm no expert, but living with a woman like Rose has taught me a few things. First off, no matter what, it's always your fault. Always. Second – and God help you if you didn't already learn this the hard way – never, ever tell a woman you know what's best for her. You have to trust that Bella can decide for herself what's best for her, because that's what's best both of you."

She's got a lot on her plate, you know. None of us ever had the choice.

Edward shuddered, shaking the last of the snow out of his hair. After all that had been said and done, it came down to the choice – of deciding between the relative peace of a brief human existence, or an eternity of bloodlust, violence and death.

"I hope she picks me." For once, Edward didn't care how pitiful it sounded.

"I hope she does, too." For all our sakes.

They sat for a moment under the cedar's drooping branches, lost in the shared uncertain hope of the future, and the memories of lifetimes ago.

Finally, Emmett stood up, grabbing Edward by the elbow and lifting him to his feet.

"Think that elk is still anywhere in this territory?" Emmett didn't wait for Edward to answer, but instead yanked on his arm, pulling Edward willy-nilly after him, his laughing, easy breaths the only sound in the dark of the night.

X X X X X

Edward vaulted carefully over the railing onto the deck. His stomach was pleasantly weighted from the hunt; his senses sharpened infinitesimally from the fresh blood. The night seemed to shimmer around him as the moonlight sifted through the snow-covered branches, blue and cold and silver over his skin.

Bella and Alice were curled together on the far side of the open space, their voices soft in the freezing air.

Softly, so as not to disturb them, he sidled along the wall. He did not mean to eavesdrop, but he could not help but be curious.

It was his future, too, after all.

As if she heard him, Bella's eyes swiveled to his, finding him easily in the shadows. They fixed him with a steady gaze, full of decisive brilliance.

I will go with you, they said. I will go with you into the darkness, and beyond.

Something warm and light bloomed in his chest, filling him so full there was not room for air. And in that moment, he was certain he felt his dead heart beat.

She wants to stay.

She wants me.

Alice slipped out from under the blankets, and stepped quietly to his side, laying a gentle hand on his arm, drawing him firmly back on the earth.

"I love you, brother," Alice whispered, hugging him until his ribs creaked. "Be well."

She clung to him for a moment, the kaleidoscope images of a hopeful future spinning in her mind, before letting him go, leaping nimbly over the railing, and vanishing into the still fastness of the night.

"How much did you hear?" Bella's voice throbbed in his ears.

"Enough." Everything.

In the pale moonlight, Bella's skin was opalescent, the tiny blood vessels almost glowing as they pulsed through delicate webs beneath the surface; and the salt tracks of freshly shed tears glinted, sharp and crystalline down her cheeks.

She looks like one of us, Edward thought. God, how I wish she were. And he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he no longer felt guilty at the thought.

Abruptly the question swam into his mind: Exactly how did one ask their lover when they wanted to die?

Would it be some macabre domestic scene? Would he simply greet Bella cheerfully one morning over coffee and eggs: "Good morning, darling. Shall I be killing you today?" and hear her cheerful, "Oh yes, please, my love," while she eagerly pulled down her shirt and exposed her throat?

Or did she expect some sort of ceremony – some bizarre initiation where his whole family looked on as he sank his teeth into her willing jugular?

"What are you thinking?" Bella's voice shook him out of his reverie. There would be enough time for those questions later, he hoped; but for now, at least, they had the night alone to squander as they wished.

"That every second you amaze me," Edward answered softly, crawling under the blankets with her. "You are brave and brilliant, and beautiful and –" as he slipped his ice cold hands down the back of her pants, giving the smooth bare skin of her bottom a proper squeeze " – so very warm –" holding on tight as Bella bucked and shrieked beneath him.

"Bastard," she sputtered.

Edward snickered into her hair.

"You love me," he sing song whispered, while Bella tried fruitlessly to dislodge him.

"I'd love you more if you were less of an ice cube."

"Mmmm, no, I don't think so." And when she opened her mouth to protest, Edward stopped her lips with his own. He kissed her thoroughly, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, his body coming alive as Bella arched and trembled beneath him, her heart hammering loudly in his ears. He meant only to play, but the heat, the taste of her, was a heady tide, sweeping away sense and reason. "Tell me you don't love me," Edward murmured breathlessly between kisses, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, feeling her nipples rise under the thin fabric of her bra." Tell me you don't feel the same way I do."

"You know I do," Bella whispered as his lips found the pulse of her throat, "you know I do." She cradled his head with her hands as he sucked gently at the tender skin, caressing it with his tongue, drawing her precious blood to the surface until he could almost taste it. "I want you forever, Edward. I want this." Her voice was fierce with determination, but Edward could hear the faint tremor beneath her bravado.

She's not ready, he realized. And neither am I.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hands from beneath her shirt and rolled to his side. Bella's head was tipped back against the chaise, leaving her neck exposed. Edward could already see the bruise forming on her pale flesh – a token reminder of the thing that still separated them, the question that remained unanswered. Gently he tipped her chin so that he could look her in the eye.

"I want what you want, Bella." He kissed her solemnly. "But I don't want you to think you have to rush things because of me."

Bella nodded, and licked her lips. "I think I'd like to stay out here a bit longer, if you don't mind. I'm not ready to go in just yet."

Edward tucked the blanket more firmly around them. He knew what she really meant. "We can stay out here as long as you like, Bella. I don't mind."

A sudden, brief puff of wind whispered through the trees, ruffling the snow off their branches and into the air; and the tiny flakes fell over them like diamonds, sparkling on their skin, and in their eyes, while above them the stars kept watch in the infinite stillness of the night sky.

X X X X X

Eventually even the electric blanket was no longer enough to stave off the bitter cold, and despite the protestations that rattled out through her chattering teeth, Edward scooped the whole mess of Bella and bedding up and carried her inside.

He whisked her quickly into a darkened room, the warm air stinging against the chilled tips of her ears and nose, setting her on her feet just inside the door.

In the faint light from a bank of windows on the south wall she could see that the room spanned the upstairs of the building that adjoined the main house. The only furnishings to speak of besides a long row of bookshelves full of boxes, were an old oak bedstead pushed up against the opposite wall, and the great hulking shape of a grand piano, swathed in moving canvas, lurking under the moonlight streaming in from the windows.

Everything was still, but the room seemed to vibrate with hushed expectation, as though it were waiting for someone, for a purpose that only they remembered.

Bella looked at Edward questioningly.

"They weren't certain I would ever come back," he said softly. "Esme couldn't bear not to keep a room for me, but . . . she knew everything I had was tainted with . . . the memory of you. What's here is actually from my parents' home in Chicago." He grimaced sadly. "I think she wanted me to remember that in spite of everything I was still someone's son – their son – and that maybe I could start over with that."

The oak bed frame was dark with age, and repeated polishing, and the patchwork crazy quilt spread over the mattress was faded with age.

That's Edward's bed, Bella realized. When he was still . . . what do I call him? Human? Alive? He's only ever been Edward to me. So instead she asked:

"Does it bother you, having your old things around you?"

"Hmm?" Edward's eyes flicked down to her face as they stood inside the doorway. "I don't remember my old life enough to miss it. I remember bits of things – sometimes I think I see the shape of my mother's face, or hear my father's voice when it's quiet – but these things don't serve as mementos. Not in the way my things from Forks would have."

He followed Bella as she walked to the slumbering piano.

It looks like a mummy – a piano mummy, Bella thought absently, and then, aloud, "Do you still play?"

"No." Edward's voice was heavy with wistful finality as he plucked at the heavy cloth shroud. "But not only because you were gone." He looked at her then, his expression earnest and determined. "Come sit with me – I have something to give you."

Edward took her hand, drawing her towards the big oak bedstead, pausing only briefly to take something off one of the bookshelves. Gallantly he handed Bella onto the bed, and then knelt at her feet on the floor.

"Bella, I've made so many mistakes. I've lied, I've cheated, I've killed. I've denied myself – who I am, who I ought to be. But most of all – worst of all, I hurt my family. I hurt you." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out whatever it was he had taken from the shelf "A little over a month ago you – gave – this to me."

He pressed something cool and metallic into her hand.

Even without looking Bella knew what it was: her amber necklace.

The necklace she had thrown at his feet on that fateful night in Alaska, cursing her frozen heart, cursing him for making her so.

The tiny chunk of amber glowed faintly in her scarred palm, the trapped fly just barely visible in the cloudy resin.

She had barely a moment to see that broken chain had been repaired, and the blood carefully washed away, and then Edward clasped his hand over hers, curling her fingers around it.

"I want you to have it back." He went on quickly as Bella began to protest. "Not because of what it meant to you then. I want you to think of it as a pledge – my promise to you. All my life I've played a part: a son, a companion, a vampire – a monster even, but never me. I've let myself be an instrument to everyone else's expectations just like that damned piano in the window." Edward chuckled ruefully. "I've never played a note that wasn't a lie."

Bella opened her mouth, and then shut it again.

What can I say to that, really?

"I've been trapped like that little fly of yours," he continued. "But not anymore. I want to be me – who I was meant to be – to be someone you deserve. And I want you to be with me when I find out who that person is." Edward brushed his thumb gently over the scar on her wrist. "You were never the frozen one. I was. And seeing what you've done, and how you've changed has made me realize – if I could have just a fraction of your courage, maybe I can change, too. That's what that your necklace means to me. That's my promise to you."

I promise I can change, his eyes entreated. Please don't leave me alone in the dark.

"Oh," was all Bella managed, and then she was gripping his hands, the necklace forgotten, pulling him up on his knees, kissing him tenderly, letting her lips tell him the words that had been burned upon her heart.

I loved you false; I'll love you true.

Forever.

She tasted his lips like they were candy, slick and sweet and hard against her own, and Edward lifted her, impossibly strong, tipping her back onto the bed. He spread her out like an offering, holding her captive with his body, and though she was no longer cold, Bella shivered.

Edward pressed his lips to the corner of her jaw.

"I have played songs written for kings," he whispered. "For lovers, for faerie tales, for every thousand ways a heart can break, but it would have been blasphemy to even think of music while you were gone." His voice rippled over her skin, his breath cool silk against her throat. "Shall I play you, now, Isabella Swan? Shall I show you the song you have written on my soul?"

Bella could barely nod – his words spread like fire, low and hot in her belly, until her whole body was alight with them – and then Edward was moving down between her thighs, carefully undoing her belt, and slipping her jeans down her legs. He paused to untie the laces of her boots, kissing the tender skin on the inside of her knees as he did so.

The room was silent except for the languorous thud of her pulse, and the soft thump of her shoes hitting the floor. Her every nerve tingled in anticipation as Edward pressed her wrists into the pillow above her head, giving them a gentle squeeze to indicate she was to keep them there, and then brushed his fingertips slowly over her breasts, teasing her gently, deliberately avoiding her taut and aching nipples, and then lightly over her belly belly, dipping into the hollows of her pelvis, and then he spread her legs wide and settled on his heels between them.

Edward used the flat of his palms to make a circuit from her ankles to the tops of her thighs, urging her already heated blood to the surface in long delicious strokes. Gradually he worked his way higher; up over the swell of her hips, his fingers tugging playfully for a moment at the elastic of her underwear, and then up under her shirt. He splayed his hands gently over her stomach, his thumbs meeting just under her navel, following the natural line of muscle to her sternum, and then out over her ribs, just barely touching the underside of her breasts.

Bella's breath came in quiet huffs as she arched softly against his touch, letting his hands find their way beneath her to the clasp of her bra. For a moment Edward's expression was a mix of lust and frustration as his fingers fumbled behind her and then there was a mumbled curse,and a most unskillful ripping sound rent the air.

"Ooops." Edward somehow managed to appear both sheepish and smug at the same time.

"Huh." Bella looked nonplussed at the mangled bits of fabric dangling from his fingers.

"I, erm, well. I guess I'll need some practice with that." Edward tossed her ruined bra over his shoulder. His teeth glinted wolfishly in the semi-darkness as he grinned down at her, and then Bella was laughing with him as her shirt met the same fate, and she peeled his clothing off in the same fashion, until they were both bare and breathless and rough with want; and Edward pulled the blanket over them both, wrapping her in warmth as he settled between her thighs.

He slid into her with a groan, and Bella felt her heart clench. Her body tingled with the familiar, gliding strangeness, the soft friction of skin on skin, and she lifted her hips to meet him, trying to bring him closer, closer, ever closer, as if she could somehow draw him into herself. She pulled at his back, his skin, his hair, her lips finding his, and she breathed his breath as though she could breathe his soul.

Edward's eyes were locked on hers, dark and vivid, burning her with their violent intensity.

"Stay," they begged her. "Don't ever go."

"Yes," she whispered back. "Yes, yes, yes."

Yes, to the feel of him, cool and dangerous and everything she had ever wanted.

Yes, to the song they wrote between them, forever in flux, never perfect, but wholly theirs, and theirs alone.

And finally, Yes, to the unspoken question, the end and the beginning, swirling into one brilliant crescendo until Bella could no longer bear it.

Eyes closed, she threw her head back, arching her body against him, and Edward pressed his mouth to her throat. He was wild almost – reckless in her arms, his lips nipping at hers, his tongue restless on her skin, while he moved within her. She could feel the rushing build, the tightening of her skin, the prickle of blood in her fingertips; and then Edward flattened his hand on small of her back, tilting her hips toward his, trapping her against him and pushing himself even deeper. Her body exploded with sensation, and she cried out, helpless, as her consciousness splintered into a thousand glittering fragments; and Edward shuddered and stilled, tipping after her into the void.

A long time later, when her racing heart had steadied, and the slow dark of sleep was upon her, Bella heard the telltale slam of a door, and she came to the somewhat disturbing realization that if there had been any doubt among the rest of the Cullens as to the nature of their relationship, there certainly wasn't any now.

And she thought she might have heard Edward chuckle as she drifted off into slumber.

X X X X X

Daylight was streaming full and bright through the windows when there was a knock on the door. Bella jerked awake, momentarily blinded. Beside her, Edward lay face down, completely immobile, his limbs spread starfish-like over the bed.

There was another tap. It sounded impatient.

"Bella? It's Rose."

Damn it.

Bella tossed off the blankets, and then realized that she was still naked from the night before. Her ruined bra hung jauntily off the oak footboard, reminding her exactly what had happened to the rest of her clothes.

Edward's bare backside glimmered mockingly at her in the light from the windows.

"Oh, Jesus. Edward," Bella kicked him in the thigh. "Get up."

A garbled mumbling issued from the pillows, but he made no effort to move.

"Bella? Edward? I know you're awake."

"Oh, double damn it," Bella muttered, and yanked the quilt off the bed, wrapping it around herself, leaving Edward bare as an egg on the bed. "Coward."

Rosalie looked impossibly perfect as Bella awkwardly pulled open the door. Her exquisitely arched eyebrows rose infinitesimally further at the sight of Bella's bare limbs.

"Ugh," Rose sniffed. "You smell like sex."

"Rosalie," said Bella tersely, hauling the blanket higher over her chest. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We thought you might like some clothes," she answered easily enough, but her mouth puckered in a moue of distaste, indicating that her being the emissary for this gesture was clearly not her idea. It was then that Bella noticed the neatly folded pile of clothing that Rosalie was carrying. "And since Esme's clothes won't fit you anymore – " Rose looked pointedly at Bella's broadened shoulders, and then down at Bella's breasts, which were still threatening to spill out of the quilt " – she wanted me to lend you some of mine."

"Oh, um –" Bella did not have time to finish as Rose hastily thrust the clothing at her.

"Just wash them before you . . . " Rosalie trailed into silence while her eyes focused on something just over Bella's shoulder. "Oh my God – burn them."

Bella turned just in time to see Edward standing next to the bed, wearing nothing but a beatific smile, and pillow clutched prophylactically over his most provocative bits while he blissfully scratched his bottom.

"Disgusting," Rose looked as though she were going to be ill.

Bella could only stare, frozen with mortification, as Edward and his pillow made their way over to her side.

"Thank you, Rose," he said, smiling wickedly at his sister and deftly snagging the clothes out of Bella's awkward grasp.

Rosalie hissed and whirled away in an elegant flurry of hair and moral outrage, while Edward's poorly muffled snicker followed gleefully after her down the stairs.

"You're horrible." Bella smacked Edward's arm, and then shrieked as he tossed her over his shoulder, dropping his pillow, and leaving the quilt stranded on the floor along with Rosalie's clothes; ignoring her halfhearted protests as he carried her back to the bed, bouncing her once on the mattress, and then pouncing on top of her.

It was well into the afternoon before either of them actually got dressed.

X X X X X

Eventually Bella made her way downstairs and into the main house.

Edward had finally pulled the shroud off the old Steinway that had once belonged to his real mother. Watching him flex his fingers wistfully over the worn ivory keys, Bella felt almost like a voyeur, so intimate was the moment. And so she opted to give him what privacy she could by joining the rest of the family.

Which was why she found herself now, sandwiched between Emmett and Alice on the couch.

Bella had given up trying to hide the love bites on her neck – barring a turtleneck that went up to her ears there was no way she could conceal them – and so she had decided to grin and bear it. Literally.

She immediately regretted her decision.

If a wake up call from Rosalie had been mortifying, Emmett's gleeful scrutiny was a thousand times worse.

"Rose said to thank you – she didn't remember what puking was like until this morning. Nice raspberry, by the way." Emmett poked her in the neck, and then snickered when her entire face turned nearly the same shade. Alongside her, Alice giggled.

"Emmett, stop teasing." Esme reached between them, and handed Bella a steaming hot cup of coffee.

"Yeah, Emmett." Alice gave Bella's arm a cheerful squeeze.

"You, too, Alice," said Esme repressively. Alice huffed, but didn't let go.

"Thank you." Bella buried her flaming face in the mug's welcome heat.

She blushed even further when she heard Esme's sympathetic hiss as she fluffed Bella's hair gently over the worst of the bruising.

In spite of the embarrassment, Bella realized she was grateful, because the teasing meant she belonged; and she leaned her head back into Esme's gentle touch.

It's nice to be mothered.

"Bella," Esme began. "I – we, were wondering if you would spend the holidays with us. We know you missed Thanksgiving - you might be busy – this is sudden –" Esme stumbled on as Bella turned to look up at her in surprise. "But we haven't had much to celebrate in a while, and, well, we'd be honored to have you if you want to stay."

Bella grasped Esme's cool hand in her own as her chest constricted with sudden warmth.

"Of course," her voice sounded thick even in her own ears. "Of course I'll stay."

I haven't got any –

"OH, CRAP." And Bella suddenly remembered the one last thing she had promised to do when she left Montana.

And then it was Alice and Emmett and Esme's turn to look after her, nonplussed, as she bolted out of the room. They didn't know why she ran, but they were all certain she said one thing before she left:

"He's gonna kill me."

X X X X X

"Swan, so lovely to hear from you." Dr. Reyerson's brusque, familiar tone crackled over the line without the preamble of a "hello."

"Hey, Doc." Bella was alone on the back porch. From the inside of the house she could hear the faint plink and hum of a sorely neglected piano being tuned.

"I got your reports, so I'm assuming this is a social call."

"You could say that." Bella felt her cheeks redden. It had been years since she had talked to anyone about the prospect of a romantic relationship, and the idea of baring her heart to the cynical eye of her mentor was something Bella found more than a little embarrassing. "I think I might need to talk to you about my apps for next year."

"You pregnant?"

The piano went suspiciously silent.

"What? God, no! Jesus. I know what to do with a penis when I see one." Bella clapped her hand over her mouth. Fuck, I just said that.

Reyerson barked out a laugh, and in the background, Bella could hear Jake's disapproving huff.

"Relax, my girl, I know you know better."

Bella was fairly certain Reyerson could feel the heat of her blush over the phone. This was beyond awkward.

"I take it the 'peace talks' went well."

Fire. Her face was on fire.

"Umm, yes," Bella hedged. "That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Isabella," Reyerson's tone was serious now. "I think I know why you're calling. It's all right. But I'd rather look you in the eye when we talk about this."

"Me, too." She paused, hearing the telltale heavy breathing that most certainly did not belong to Dr. Reyerson. "How's Jake doing?"

"He's fine. Minimal destruction. Although right now he's eyein' this phone like it's your favorite pair of underpants."

Bella snorted, then sniffed. She missed her dog.

"Tell you what, Swan. You come see me before the beginning of the semester and we'll figure this out. Right now, you have your break . . . and I'll have my scotch. Enjoy your holiday. You've earned it."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Oh, and Swan, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Bring the boy with you. I want a word with him."

Edward's fingers slipped off the piano keys with a dreadful clang.

A word, indeed.

A/N: Guess where we're going!

Sooo. First off, I want to take up my broken record and say once again, that I'm sorry this has taken so long. The best way I can put it is that this story has taken such a hold on me that I'm sad to see it go. There's not much left to tell, and as much as it needs to be out of my head, I want to savor every last bit of it.

I want to thank each and every one of you who have stuck with me, and cheered me on. I know I haven't been able to thank all of you personally, but please believe that I have treasured each and every one of your comments. Thank you for keeping me inspired. As always, I hope this was worth the wait. In my eyes, at least, it was worth the telling.

Thank you all again.