A/N: Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters, obviously, but I'm the one who makes them do all the weird stuff. A huge thank you to my diligent beta Trekgeezer, who turned this chapter around in no time at all! And thank you to each and every one who reads this.

I remember vividly a day years ago,
We were camping.
You knew more than you thought you should know.
You said: I don't want ever to be brainwashed
And you were mind boggling, you were intense.
You were uncomfortable in your own skin.
You were thirsty,
But mostly you were beautiful.

If we were our name tags,
If we were our rejections,
If we were our outcomes,
I'd be joining you.

If we were our indignities,
If we were our successes,
If we were our emotions,
I'd be joining you.

Alanis Morisette: Joining You

Chapter 38

BPOV

The sunny picnic turned into something sinister and heavy the minute Edward started asking about my stretch marks. They're ugly, twisted things puckering my skin and I hate them. Some of them have been with me since I was a kid. To me, they are like battle scars, reminders of the fights that I've lost. But lying here, exposed to Edward's touch and eyes under the rays of the midday sun, suddenly I took comfort in the fact that this is as bad as it gets. Edward knows me now; he's seen the worst parts of me. He's aware of my ugliness and seems to accept me, regardless. It would be a relief to share my other failures with him, too.

Though, telling him about Lily, digging up those memories again when I've spent so much energy trying to put them behind me, has left me emotionally drained. I feel dazed when he tells me he loves me. It's like hearing something I've always known but at the same time it's startling and new. His eyes are so sad, but it's his sweet kisses more than anything that makes me believe him. This isn't just his pity talking. This is Edward showing me his heart. Saying it back isn't hard, it's … inevitable. I've basically laid myself bare, shown him my jugular. If I trust him with my life, with my shame, how can I hold back the fact that I love him? Our mutual declarations seem like a kind of promise. We're together in this now, for better and for worse.

So, now I'm trying to gather my wits, wiping at my wet face and pulling on my hair and clothes to achieve some semblance of calm. Edward is finally telling me that he's ready to talk: about Alice. "Go on," I say encouragingly. "Who is Alice?" Edward picks up my hand, and holds it in his large one, looking down at the blanket between us. He sighs, and pulls the other hand through his hair in that gesture of frustration I've come to know so well.

"Alice is, or was, my adopted sister. She's dead. She died this spring. That's the reason I left my family and can't see them or talk to them right now. They're in too much pain, and I can't force them to look at me knowing what they know about me." I feel a cold sense of dread trickling down my back that is pressed against the rough texture of the tree trunk. I force my voice not to tremble as I ask him carefully.

"What is it that they know about you that's so painful, Edward?"

He looks up at me, then down at the ground again, and his hand squeezes mine, hard. There's pain in his eyes, and something darker. "I was responsible for her, I should have taken care of her, but I didn't and she died. If it weren't for me, Alice would probably still be alive." His voice is tight and I can see his jaw clenching. I strive to stay focused, although what he's saying sounds far too much like my own words thrown back at me.

"Wait, back up, you have to tell me more. How old was Alice? How long had she been in your family? Why were you responsible for taking care of her?" I've seen Edward with children, how warm and attentive he can be. I can't imagine the Edward I know being careless or leaving a child alone to walk out in front of a car or fall out of a second-story window. Could the old Edward have been capable of such things?

He shakes his head slowly. "I was five or six when Alice was adopted. She was a toddler then and I became the big brother." He pulls up strands of grass with his right hand, keeping his face half turned away from me.

"Alice had a lot of problems. Early on I think they figured she had autism, because she didn't relate normally to others and seemed closed within her own world. Later on they decided it was some kind of attention deficit. She kept having these tantrums where she would throw stuff around, hurt others and sometimes herself, too. She almost got kicked out of school when she was five for stabbing a friend's hand with a pair of scissors." I gasp. He looks at me, pleading.

"But she wasn't like that, Bella, not really. She was the sweetest girl you could imagine, too. She loved playing with me when we were younger, and she would talk to me for hours, even when she refused to talk to our parents. She just didn't understand other people, and that frustrated the hell out of her." He sighs, and starts pulling at the grass again.

"She was smart, and kind, but everyone thought she was weird. In school everyone was afraid of her or taunted her, called her retard or psycho. Our parents didn't know what to do. Esme, our mother, spent all her time on Alice when she was little. Then, when Alice got put on medication, things eased up a little bit. Esme went back to work as an interior decorator, but she was still always there for Alice, whenever something went wrong." He looks up at the sky, and gets this far-away expression on his face.

"I guess I resented Alice for that, sometimes, that she got all the attention. I loved her, but I got tired of trying to protect her and trying to protect everybody else from the consequences of her actions. I felt like I got jerked around, trying to please everyone. Often, I was the only one who could get through to Alice. I could calm her down when she got wound up. Or else I was stuck trying to comfort Esme or soothe Carlisle when Alice had bawled them out." He chews on the inside of his cheek.

"In middle school no girl would look at me, and I had no real friends. I was just weird Alice's weirdo brother. I didn't dare invite anyone home for fear they would witness something ugly, like Alice throwing something through a window, or trying to scratch Esme's eyes out with her nails, or Carlisle shouting at her to calm the fuck down. I did everything I could to make everyone happy and to fit in, but I never got anything in return for my efforts – or so I thought." He looks over at me, his brow furrowing.

"I realize now that we were lucky to have Esme and Carlisle. They weren't perfect, but they tried to give us what they thought we needed." He hunches his shoulders as if to protect himself from something, an unseen cloud hovering above us. I stroke his arm slowly, soothingly, watching the golden hairs that are almost invisible in the daylight move under my fingers.

"So then you started rebelling against them, for expecting too much from you?" I ask. "I can see that happening. It sounds as if you never really allowed yourself to be a kid. You were trying to be a parent to your parents. That had to end." He leans his head back against the tree trunk, staring down at the ground, still frowning.

"I wish I had done things differently. Alice always looked up to me. When I became popular and started sneaking out, going to parties and doing drugs, she thought that was how high school was supposed to be. She thought I was cool, maybe even cooler when I tried ignoring her, even if she was hurt by it. By the time she reached high school she was out of control, too. I just didn't realize how much. I knew she was hanging with the emo crowd, and I guessed that she smoked pot with them, even if I never saw her with drugs around the house. I knew that she cut herself occasionally, but she always wore long sleeves so that no one would see." He sighs. "When I told our parents, Alice freaked out completely. She thought I had betrayed her. They became even more obsessed with trying to help her." He puts his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers with one another.

"The weekend she died, I was alone with her for the first time in ages. It was spring break and Esme and Carlisle had gone away to stay the night with friends, leaving me in charge. I knew I should have spent more time with Alice, but I was restless. When I was invited to a party by people I knew from high school, I knew I shouldn't have left, but I didn't think it could do any harm. It was in the neighborhood so I took my car and went over there. The party was lame, though, and I didn't want to get high, so I ended up in the basement playing video games with some of the guys." His face tenses, and a muscle in his jaw starts twitching.

"Then, later, someone told me my sister was there. I ran upstairs and found Alice, drunk, trying to flirt with some older guys who were just laughing at her. She must have followed me, or seen my car. It made me really mad, so I scooped her up and took her home. She was upset, crying; kept saying she wanted to talk to me, but I just dumped her in her room, told her she was too immature to be worth my time, and locked myself in the basement to be alone. She didn't come after me, and I felt relieved. It wasn't until much later, when I checked on her, that I discovered she'd killed herself. God, she must have been so lonely!" He chokes on his words, falls silent and hides his face in his hands.

I tentatively touch his hair. "Are you okay, Edward?" I ask carefully, even though it's obvious that he's not. He shakes his head, and a sob wracks his body. His voice is muffled when he speaks into his hands. "Can we please stop now, Bella? I don't think I can talk about this anymore, not … not right now." I scoot closer, so that I can put my arms around him and hold him. I whisper into his ear, "It's okay, Edward. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

The truth is that I'm not sure what to do about this. It's an awful burden to bear, a suicide in the family. Anyone would be reeling from losing a younger sister like that, and Edward obviously feels responsible. He needs to see someone, a counselor, to help him grieve and let go of the guilt. I'm not sure I'm equipped to save him from this.

I lean my forehead against his shoulder and think of how alike we are, even though so many things make us different from one another. We've both tried so hard, and yet we both feel that we've failed at the most important thing in life – giving someone we loved what they needed to live. My eyes tear up as I think of Lily, so tiny in that white coffin – beautiful and perfect, like a little doll. Our baby. But I've realized that even though something is obviously lacking in my makeup as a woman and mother, I have to move on, guilt or no guilt. And so Edward has to move on. I'm sure that his family loves him, no matter what, and that they're heartsick now that he's left them. I decide then and there that my goal will be for Edward to have the opportunity to be reunited with his family before the end of summer. I don't know how, but it's the only real thing I can do to help him.

Edward finally straightens up and wipes at his eyes, quickly, as if to hide his tears from me. I stop his hand, and hold it in mine, trying to catch his gaze. "Hey, Edward, it's okay. I'm so glad you told me, and I'm so sorry you had to go through all that alone. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Whenever you need to, I'll be here to listen. And I know that you probably can't believe this right now, but I can assure you that none of that was your fault. You don't have to say anything. I just want you to try to think about it seriously – the idea that what happened wasn't because of you. You couldn't stop it from happening, and you didn't cause it. Try to see it from the outside, that's all I ask." Edward says nothing, and doesn't look at me, but eventually he nods his head slowly, as if to show me that he's heard me. I scramble to my feet, not letting go of his hand, and gently tug on it.

"And now I think we need to get moving, if we want to make it to Berkeley by four o'clock. Do you want to drive or should I?" Edward slowly gets up, still avoiding my eyes, and looks around at the ground as if he's searching for something. Then he bends down and picks something up from out of the grass.

He turns to me, his eyes a little red-rimmed but just as beautiful as ever. There are faint traces of tears still hanging from his long, black lashes.

"There's something I wanted to give you, and this seemed like the right place to do it. I didn't know we would get so emotional, though." He smiles his crooked smile and shrugs his shoulders a little, then grasps my left wrist. He holds out a thin, black leather band. A small pendant dangles from it, catching the sunlight. When I take it between my finger and thumb I see that it's a small heart. It's made from some pale material that looks white and then green and lilac, almost like a tiny rainbow.

"It's abalone, made from the shells found on this coast," Edward tells me. He slowly winds the cord around my wrist and ties it with a complicated knot. The little heart now dangles from my wrist. I watch it, fascinated, as it sparkles in the sun.

His voice is soft when he continues. "I wanted you to have a memory from this trip, a sign of my love for you. Will you wear it?" I nod because I don't trust my voice enough to speak. He gently picks up my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist with warm lips. I feel warm and cold at the same time. My body automatically leans into him and I end up in his arms, pressing my face into his shirt. He smells incredible. He smells like home.

"Thank you, Edward. Yes, I'll wear it. You know I love you," I mumble indistinctly through my tears and the fabric of his shirt. He squeezes my arm, then kisses my forehead as he releases me. He looks down at me with the hint of a smile.

"Do you know, today is my birthday?" I immediately step back, shocked.

"What? And you didn't tell me before? Why, Edward?" He shrugs, and starts collecting our stuff without meeting my eyes.

"It didn't seem like a big deal. I don't even know why I told you now. Forget it." He sounds dismissive, but I put my hand on his back, feeling the heat of his skin on my palm through his shirt. He straightens up, then turns back to face me. I bite my lip, looking up into his face and run a finger across his frowning forehead until he meets my gaze.

"It is a big deal to me, Edward. I'm sorry you didn't tell me before, but I'm really glad you told me now." Suddenly I remember something, and I fish the little box with the ring out of my purse.

"Look at this. The antique ring I bought in the shop yesterday had a date inscribed in it, the woman there thought it was an engagement ring. Let's see … yes, here it is! It reads June 20, 1920, you know? Your birthday! Isn't it a strange coincidence?"

Edward takes the ring from me, holding it to catch the light, then tries it on his finger, although it's much too small to fit. Then he pulls it off, picks up my left hand, and slowly lets the ring slide home where my platinum wedding band used to sit for so many years. The cool metal feels familiar and strange at the same time. He looks at me, but neither of us moves or speaks. Then a bird settles in the tree above us and breaks into song, and the moment is over. I clear my throat and look down at my hand where the cloudy white moonstone winks at me when I move my fingers.

"How about we go out to dinner in San Francisco tonight, and we'll make it your birthday dinner?" I ask. Edward's eyes are guarded but then he relaxes and shrugs, giving me his lopsided smile.

"Yes, that sounds great; just you and me and dinner in San Francisco. With a view of the Golden Gate Bridge?" His eyebrows go up and he gives me those puppy dog eyes that I'm sure he knows I can't resist. I make a face but smile all the same.

"I don't know, Edward, but I'll try my best to give you a view of Alcatraz. Please manage your expectations if you can." His reply is instant and teasing.

"Hey, Bella, I pretty much got all my wishes fulfilled last night, with you in a bathing suit and then seeing you wear the lingerie I picked out. I don't think there are any more birthday expectations I need you to fulfill!"

I pick up the blanket from the ground and fold it, shaking my head. He can seem like such a kid sometimes.

As we walk back through the high grass in the direction of the car, I can't help asking, "How old are you again, Edward? 21?"

He replies quickly, "I'm 22, today."

I nod, thoughtful. "So you only had a couple of months left till graduation when you left?" He's looking at the ground but hums affirmatively. I pause, then continue. "Then it really seems like a mistake to let your college credits go to waste. Would you mind telling me where you went to school?" He gives me a long look without saying anything, and my heart drops. "Okay, so you're not ready to tell me right now, but when you do I promise you, Edward, I will help you."

I reach out and touch his arm, and he looks at the ground again, but nods silently. The beautiful day around us vibrates with sound and sunshine, but there's a silent cloud hanging over us as we load the car and drive off. Out of the corner of my eye I see the glint of the heart pendant dangling from my wrist, and for a moment I imagine myself thousands of miles away, on a rainy street in Europe with nothing but this small reminder of a surreal and complicated love. I feel my mouth set into a line and I clutch the wheel with both hands. Edward turns the music back on and Creedence Clearwater Revival fills the car. "I feel there's a bad moon rising, I feel there's trouble on the way …"

We emerge from the wilderness at Palo Alto, and wind our way quickly up to San Francisco. The Chancellor Hotel is just off Union Square. It's nothing fancy but a good choice since it's situated strategically in the downtown area. There's 24-hour parking nearby, so we leave the car and walk a block to the hotel to check in.

I can't help wondering what the man behind the desk thinks as I'm checking us in. Edward waits, casually lounging against the desk, his long lean legs stretched out, our bags resting at his feet. Does the man think that I'm sharing a room with my son? That Edward's my lover? My escort? I swallow and sign the slip, retrieving the key cards and directions to our room.

I can't help noticing the warm smile on the face of the blonde woman sharing the elevator with us as she catches Edward's eye. He smiles politely back at her, then looks away, but her gaze lingers. When she notices me scowling at her, she has the grace to quickly turn her head, though. Bitch! Fortunately, she exits on another floor, and we finish the ride in solitude. Edward immediately steps closer to me, leans down and kisses my cheek.

"Don't worry, I've never liked blondes." I look up at him, and see him smiling at me, his eyes warm. I feel my face heat up.

"Sorry. Was I that obvious?" He shakes his head.

"No, I'm sure no one but me would catch your "I'll kill you now" look. I'm just very happy that, so far, it's never been directed at me. I wonder what I would have to do to deserve it. Destroy your laptop?" He allows me to exit ahead of him and lead the way down the hall to our room. I sigh and shake my head, amused against my will as I insert the key card and hold the door open for Edward to enter with the bags.

"I didn't know I had a lethal look in my arsenal, but I assure you it would have to be something pretty spectacular for me to direct it at you." I slide my arms around him, looking up at his beautiful face. "After all, you're my light and my joy. I'd be foolish to kill the source of my happiness, right?" After all the emotional upheaval of this day, I'm feeling as if my heart and mind have been through a wringer. Leaning into his body, I know that Edward's touch is enough to make me feel warm and alive again. He leans down and I nip at his jaw, which is still deliciously clean-shaven. He sighs when I kiss my way down his throat and start fumbling with his shirt. He pulls my hips to his body in a move that seems instinctive.

His voice sounds gravelly when he asks me: "Bella? Are you okay? And do we have time for this? Because if we don't, you really should stop touching me now." I give him my most innocent look before palming him firmly on top of his jeans.

"What? Stop touching you where, exactly?" He growls and pushes into my hand.

"Oh, you really shouldn't have said that!"

Before I know what's happening, I'm picked up and unceremoniously thrown down on the queen size bed. Edward follows, smothering me with his body and a passionate kiss. His warm hand is already stroking my thigh under my dress, climbing higher and higher, until he's returning the favor, palming my center on top of the lacy blue boy shorts. They are definitely damp beneath his exploring fingers. I wriggle on the bed and moan into his mouth, pulling his shirt up in the back where I can reach it. He stops kissing me and looks down at me, his eyes wild but also full of laughter.

"Okay, Ms. Swan, are you ready for a quick fuck?" By now I'm tingling all over, needy and impatient, so I nod.

"Eager, huh? Well, so am I!" And with that, Edward slides off the bed, flips my skirt up over my head and pulls down my panties in one swift move. I hear the jangle of his belt, and just as I untangle my head from the fabric, I whelp, surprised when he grabs my legs and pulls me to the edge of the bed. His pants are only pushed down over his ass but he's obviously ready, already nudging at my wet center. He slides up and down, watching mesmerized as we both get wet from my excitement.

He mumbles, "Oh, Bella, what I would like to do with you …" and I feel a cool shiver of anticipation run through my hot body.

"Edward, please just do it, now," I blurt out. I'm rewarded by the sight of his eyes darkening as his hand squeezes my thigh. Lightning quick he has a condom ready, and then, without ceremony, he lets himself slide home. I squeal, surprised at the abrupt intrusion, and he stills. At this angle, I can feel him deep inside me. For a moment he stays there, his mouth half-open, his eyes filled with emotion as he looks down at me, spread out before him.

"Bella, I can't tell you how damned beautiful you look right now. Please, can I just … please let me just fuck you?" I smile. What does he think he's been doing for the past few weeks?

I recognize the urgency in his voice so I reply:"Yes, Edward, I already asked you to. Please, just fuck me." And he does. It's quick and without frills, unlike our usual lovemaking, and normally I wouldn't expect to cum. But somehow the sight of Edward letting himself go with such abandon, making helpless animal noises as he gives me all he's got, is incredibly arousing. Or maybe I'm just worked up after crying my eyes out and then riding in a car with him all day. I only know that within seconds the tingling in my abdomen is spreading and building, tighter and tighter, until I hear myself crying out as I spiral over the edge. Edward keeps up his relentless rhythm, shaking my whole body with his thrusts until he, too, cums, chanting my name, as he collapses on the bed, half covering me with his body.

"Wow!" he breathes, as he presses his sweaty brow against my throat. "That was intense!" He looks up at me, touching my lips with his hot fingers, his voice a little concerned. "Are you okay?" I nod, exhausted, tears in my eyes. I feel emotional, but not in a bad way.

"Much more than okay. I think we both needed that. Oh, and I'll make time for a quick fuck with you any day, Mr Masen," I say, trying to defuse any bad feelings on his part. He smiles and kisses me, pulling out and taking care of the condom as he rolls onto his back on the bed.

"I'm sorry if that was a bit rough. I promise I'll make it up to you later. I think I just had to get some sexual tension out of my system." He touches my hair, and his eyes are more serious when he says, "I don't think I've ever felt as raw as I did with you today in the meadow. Literally, it was as if I had no skin, no protective layers whatsoever. I'm so sorry for what you had to go through, and I feel so honored that you wanted to share it with me." His eyes sparkle, and his fingers trace my cheek tenderly.

"Maybe it's wrong, but for some reason I've been longing to be inside you all day. I even considered giving you road head to make you stop the car at one point." I raise my head in alarm and look at him, frowning. He hastily continues, "But I knew you wouldn't approve." I shake my head tiredly, then look at the time.

"Holy crap! We need to shower and change now, Edward! Please try to hold your libido in check until we get back here tonight, okay?" He chuckles as I scramble for the bathroom, taking my bag with me. I never knew sex could be so time consuming!

A/N: Whew, so finally we get to learn a little bit more about what happened to Edward. My heart goes out to everyone who's had to experience a suicide in the family: that's one of the most devastating things to bear. Do you think Bella will be able to sway Edward's mind about seeing his family? What do you think will happen, now that they've arrived? Have you ever seen the Golden Gate Bridge in the morning fog? I love it when you leave a review or a PM!