I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

Author's Note: Because I know that I could never, EVER really relate to the experiences of someone who has gone to war, I haven't even tried to express those feelings here. Bella's reflections are those of an outsider because honestly, I don't think anyone who hasn't actually been there, done that can appreciate those experiences. I can, however, relate to the thoughts of someone who has loved someone who has gone to war. My grandfather, who ended up fighting in three wars (WWII, Korea, and Vietnam) only spoke of his experiences in the most superficial way. My father, who did three tours in Vietnam, was the same way. We got the funny stories, the amusing anecdotes, the jokes and lighthearted observations. The most horrific experiences were not for public consumption, mostly because we could never understand them. So my references are deliberately vague, because while I might be able to honor their sacrifices, I cannot really understand them.

#36 An Outsider Looking In

I looked in the mirror one last time, checking my hair. Acceptable and as good as it would get. Make-up? A little more than usual but not too much. Dress? Maybe a little bit low cut, but Edward would appreciate the view. It wasn't slutty, just a bit daring. It would do. I wasn't ready to go downstairs. He'd be waiting for me anxiously, but I needed a moment.

My hands were shaking as I tugged at the neckline of the dress one more time. Okay, maybe it was more than a little daring. I rummaged in the drawer and found the double-sided tape that Alice insisted every woman should keep around "just in case." Maybe she was psychic or something, but I'd certainly put it to good use today. After applying the tape to the outside of my bra, I felt more secure. There was no need to flash the girls, not with an audience anyway.

Later, I thought. I'd flash later. For Edward. We'd ring in the civilian life...again.

This would probably be the last time I'd see him in his dress blues. And the first. Odd… I'd seen him in his ACUs dozens and dozens of times. But never in his dress uniform. I wasn't embarrassed to admit that my girl parts were getting a little tingly at the thought. Yeah, there really was something about a man in uniform. My mother and I had shared quite a few naughty giggles over it, especially once I was older and married.

And let's face it, living on a base afforded a woman a lot of opportunity to enjoy the scenery. As my mother said, "You can look at the menu all you want. You just don't have to order." Even now my mother looked. I kept her little secret. "I'm married and in love," she'd told me once. "I'm not dead."

That brought a smile to my face. It was so typical of my mother. She was still a free spirit, despite her age and her responsibilities as my father's wife. She'd always been the perfect officer's wife, and now she served as the police-chief's wife with grace and warmth. I thought she was probably entitled to enjoying the scenery.

It was time. I glanced at my watch again.

I stepped down the stairs carefully. I could navigate in heels, but I didn't like to tempt fate. Deliberately, I kept my eyes on my feet. I saw the bright crimson nail polish just peeking out of the peep toe shoes. That was for Edward too. God the man and his thing for toes! It was adorable and perverted, much like Edward.

Then I got to the last step and looked up. I felt my breath lock in my throat.

He shifted nervously, tugging at his collar. Oh. My. God.

He was beautiful. He was… I couldn't even think of the right words. I stepped up to him and adjusted his tie, mostly to give myself an excuse to touch him. He felt warm and solid beneath the layers of cloth. I smiled up at him. "Hello, soldier," I teased and the light burst into his green eyes.

"Hey," he replied. The raspy, husky voice was back. Oh my. Yes, the girly parts definitely liked that.

I had so many things I wanted to say, but they were locked up tight inside of me. So I settled for kissing his lips and resting my head briefly on his chest, letting my fingers lightly run over the medals on his chest. I tried to still the little frisson of fear that ran through me as I thought about what those medals represented. He had risked his life. He had been in danger.

But that was over. He was here. He was safe. He was mine.

I was smiling when I looked up at him. "Come on, handsome, let's get you retired and roasted and then put to bed." He grinned at me, looking both naughty and innocent at the same time. That seemed to be an Edward Cullen specialty.

Then I turned to see the boys all lined up. In suits no less. They'd wear those same suits to our wedding, unless they outgrew them in the next two months, which was always a possibility.

And my breath left me again.

When had they gotten so grown up? Emmett was Mac all over again. It hurt to look at him sometimes, but it gave me comfort too. I hadn't known Mac at this age, and there weren't many pictures of his childhood, but I knew that he would have looked just like this. I bit my lip. No tears, I reminded myself. No tears today. This was a happy day.

Then Seth, getting almost as tall as Emmett. Not as broad, built more leanly like my side of the family. He'd be long and lithe when it was all said and done. He tugged at his tie much like Edward had.

Sam, fidgeting and looking uncomfortable, pulling at his jacket sleeves and shifting his feet in his shiny new dress shoes.

Jake beamed up at me, clearly impressed with his new threads. "I look good, huh?"

I had to laugh and agree. Then we were on our way to the base. I glanced at Edward, surprised to see that he was starting to look nervous. He kept tugging at his collar.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He twisted his neck as if he had a stiff muscle. "I dunno," he muttered. "I just don't like being the center of attention."

I stifled my laughter. Silly man, he was the center of attention wherever he went; his good looks and long, lean body ensured that. He didn't really have a clue how gorgeous he was, and in uniform…? Well, let's just say that I had a healthy appreciation for his appearance.

I had lived around men in uniform my whole life. Honestly, I felt more comfortable around uniforms than I did civilian clothes, but I could admit that seeing Edward in uniform was an experience quite unlike any other.

I wondered how he felt right now. A huge, important chapter in his life was ending. I knew Edward well enough to know that he had given his heart and soul to the Army. It wouldn't be an easy thing to leave behind. This was a night for reflection as well as renewal.

For the most part, Edward avoided talking about his experiences in the war. That seemed to be a common reaction. Even Mac, who hadn't seemed to let much burden him, had made light of some experiences and simply refused to talk about others. I understood that reaction.

Edward was a different man in so many ways. He was more open with his emotions, wearing his heart on his sleeve in many ways. Except when it came to his combat experiences. Those were kept locked away and tucked behind walls, a part of his life he didn't share.

I hadn't pushed Edward. He dealt with things in his own way. His scars told me part of the story. His silence told me another. I understood enough to comprehend that there was a part of his life that I could never really know. It could only be understood by those who had shared it, lived, survived it.

So in some ways, I was an outsider looking in. Tonight, he would say good-bye to a part of that. His memories would always be his, but tonight he would be giving up a part of what defined him. He would have new labels, new roles, new definitions, but that didn't take away what he had had in the military. He had been a soldier for the whole of his adult life, it defined him in a way that a mere job could never do.

I pushed aside those thoughts and pulled him in for a kiss. I could see the shadows edging closer in his eyes. Old hurts, old fears... Yes, tonight would be difficult in ways I could never understand.

He was mostly quiet on the trip to the base. The boys were similarly subdued, perhaps recognizing in that way that kids had, that something significant was happening. Like me, they had been raised in this life. They had a clue. They knew far more about loss and honor and service than most kids their age. They knew more than I wanted them to know, but that was to be expected.

They were Army brats, with all of the burdens and knowledge and responsibility that that entailed.

We arrived and Edward parked and then he paused for a moment, sitting still and silent. Then he looked at me and the shadows were deeper, darker. I could see him banish them with a shake of his head. Inside, there were people gathered, uniforms in abundance, and women like me who had dressed up to impress, or maybe to distract a man they loved.

This was, despite the festive air, serious business.

His Brigade Commander was there, with words that made it clear how much Edward was valued. This was a side of him that we rarely saw, the soldier instead of the man. There were speeches, and Edward's accomplishments were praised. I could see Emmett staring at Edward with a new respect. They knew about sacrifice; they had lost their father to the war, after all. But they were seeing Edward now not just a as a man who loved their mother, but as a soldier, as a warrior who had gone to war. They were realizing that Edward had faced the same horrors that their father had faced; had made many of the same sacrifices and choices. He was a soldier, and for them, that meant something. It was a term of honor and respect, and they knew all about the sacrifices that such men made because they had lived with them, seen them up close.

As I listened, I learned more about this man I loved. I had already known that he was brave and selfless, but he was so much more than that. He was the epitome of the soldier he had been for so long; he had given all of himself to a cause that was bigger than himself, served a nation that was not always grateful or aware of what he gave up to do so.

And as relieved as I was that I wouldn't have to fear surviving another deployment, I was also proud of him. I was so achingly proud of what he stood for and what he accomplished that I felt like my heart was expanding inside of me, almost too large to stay contained.

He spoke then, saying more with his silences than he did with his actual words. So much loss and pain and fear, but of these things he spoke very little. Instead, he spoke of the men who had not made it home to their families, of men who had died so far away. In a way, he honored Mac with his words – Mac and every other man and woman who had not made it home. He paid homage to them, the price they had paid.

I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I put on my game face like every other spouse did. We had a job to do too. It was our role to be strong and silent when we wanted to be weak and cry out with our loneliness and fear. It was our job to hold the family together, to keep our eyes on the ultimate goal and give strength to those ones who faced the terrible realities of war.

I was good at my job, almost as good as Edward was at his. I wouldn't push at the walls he had built up. His walls made him strong in a way I would never fully appreciate. I heard his sorrow as he spoke the names of the men he had served with and who had been lost. I heard his pride as he spoke of their accomplishments while making light of his own.

And I heard his relief that he wouldn't be leaving me. As hard as it was to end this chapter of his life, he was looking forward, not back.

We were quiet on the way home, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts and impressions of the ceremony.

The boys went to bed and Edward and I went to our bedroom. We closed and locked the door, making everything else fade away.

He touched me, his hand warm and hungry, his mouth wet and hot against me. He didn't speak, perhaps he couldn't. But his body called out to mine. He needed healing and solace and celebration.

He was both desperate and quiescent at my touch. He did my bidding even as his body begged for mine. Kisses began softly, moans became whispers in which I told him how much I loved him and needed him, how proud I was of him, and how happy he made me.

When he finally slid home, when his body became a part of mine, I felt something shift inside of me. Something in my heart, my soul...

I held him close and listened as his heart slowed its thundering rhythm.

I held him as his body relaxed and his muscles grew slack with sleep.

I held him as he dreamed of things that made him cry out and hold me so close that my bones ached as much as my heart did.

I held my own vigil that night. He slept while I kept watch over him. I was an outsider looking in, looking over – as strong in my own way as he was in his.