A/N for 2020-02-10: This is a bit of a tough chapter, so if you don't do well with difficult endings, you might want to wait until the next chapter posts. And for those of you who enjoy angst, this baby is all yours (pun intended).

Chaysara worked her magic on this text, and then I fiddled with it, so all errors are my own.

- Erin

Bella had submitted with as good a grace as she could muster to Alice's cosmetic ministrations. Her fingers and toenails were a tasteful dusty rose. She had given an enthusiastic yes to a bath, though, knowing Sarah would be expertly kept. Charlie was tender and loving but not so well versed in keeping Sarah content.

Letting Alice do her nails seemed appropriate compensation.

"We'll bring her in if she needs you," Esme said. "You can go and get a good night's sleep."

It felt wrong to leave her in someone else's arms, and Bella's eyebrows slid closer together, considering the offer.

"She won't want for anything, Bella," Esme reassured her. "If she needs you, we'll bring her. I promise."

"All right," Bella said, trying to accept this gift.

"It's not like we can do this most nights," Rose called from the couch, flipping through a magazine. "I think Charlie might notice."

Alice giggled. "Probably not. He's a horrible snorer."

Bella laughed too. "True," she said, walking away, trying to make it look easy. She fooled none of them. "Night all." She slipped into bed, luxuriating in the special knowledge that she would likely not be woken all night long. It felt guiltily indulgent.

Alice had warned her that the boys would return by early morning and asked coyly if she needed to stand guard at her door.

"I think he'll respect my privacy, Alice," Bella'd said.

Alice had blinked at her and said "Okay," with far less certainty than Bella found reassuring.

But she woke alone, feeling like the world was a new place, rested, and . . . oh, she realized, avoiding touching her chest, needing Sarah.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she realized she shouldn't have been surprised when Edward's voice followed the knock on the door. "Sarah's ready for you, if you are."

"Okay," she called, but then started, seeing him suddenly inside the room.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," she said, shaking it off. "We're on your turf."

He wished she felt more at home than that. "I hope you'd consider it yours, too. You're always welcome here."

Bella looked up sharply at this. Had he heard in some roundabout way about Sue and Charlie or perhaps more directly, from the thoughts of others?

He was watching her, too. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable—but you are always welcome here."

"No," she said, "you didn't make me feel uncomfortable. Far from it. It's just—it's exactly what Charlie said to me when he and Sue told me their news."

"News?" he asked.

"They're getting married," she said.

"That's wonderful," he said, handing Sarah back. "Please give them our congratulations."

"I will," she said but wondered how welcome the Cullen's felicitations would be. She was standing, putting Sarah to the breast.

"Don't you want to sit?"

"No," she said, "I've mastered the art of standing, sort of walking, and breastfeeding—because otherwise, I'd be sitting all the time. And seeing as I just had the best night's sleep I've had in . . . forever, I'm ready to go find breakfast."

"Good," he said. "I have something ready."

The house was strangely empty. "Where is everyone?" She sat down nervously in the quiet kitchen.

"Hunting, work, and outside," Edward said nonchalantly, pulling a plate from the oven. "Careful," he said. "It's hot." His bare hands needed no protection, and Bella put her hand over the plate, checking. Yes, very hot.

"Would you like me to hold her while you eat?" he asked, hands stretched out hopefully. Sarah had eaten quickly and was wide-eyed and alert.

"Please," Bella said, and handed her back, surprised by the warm touch of his hand. She looked up at him, surprised. "How—?"

"We can absorb heat. We just can't make it." He smiled, smoothing Sarah's hair back as he watched her, absorbed in her thoughts, marvelling at how her hands were trying to grasp and hold.

Bella ate and watched Edward playing with Sarah. He was pacing with her, holding up different objects, moving them back and forth, and grinning when her eyes followed. Every once in a while, she would hear him talking to her, but they were far enough away that she couldn't catch the words.

She was trying to pinpoint the very complex feelings that were building underneath these observations.

His hands, and those of the others in his family, were capable of a destruction she could barely fathom. Her memories of what had become of James were murky at best, muddled by pain and morphine. The tenderness, though, that Edward's were showing was what was plucking at hopes buried by grief.

Her own hand went to her stomach, seeking the ghost of Jacob's touch as if she could find it there.

She swallowed, remembering.

His excitement for Sarah's arrival had been so . . . exuberant, palpable. He talked about it, longed for it.

That she was able to hold her every day was a guilty piece of grief. She felt it in every joy she cherished, and it wasn't only because he was gone.

"You're . . . really good with her," she said softly.

The emotion in her voice was unmistakable. He didn't want to provoke it more, so he smiled in reply, keeping his eyes on Sarah. Bella's heart rate was tightening its rhythm. He wished he knew what was upsetting her.

"Excuse me," Bella whispered softly, walking away.

He listened to her footsteps, hearing the soft click of the bedroom door.

She had no expectation of real privacy but hoped he would allow her the pretense of it. She let the grief and the guilt have their way with her, spilling themselves into the hand at her mouth and face, both ineffective receptacles.

Edward didn't knock but entered quietly, setting Sarah down. Bella was sitting on the bed, facing the window, distraught.

It hurt watching her hurt, and as he stood there, frustrated by his past mistakes, his resolve to wait for her snapped.

He put his arm around her, pulling her towards him. She leaned in, body still rocking with emotion. That she accepted this small comfort from him made his own body thrill with the electricity of her touch. She turned towards him, curling herself into his chest, and he pulled her closer.

They both breathed as regularly as they could, for entirely different purposes, letting their bodies acclimate to the other's.

His body was waking, angry and vitriolic at its enforced quiescence, screaming with desires. He forced his hands to remain still.

Then she tilted her head up, eyes open in what he imagined was want. His restraint evaporated.

His lips over hers were a meeting of fire and ice, she in the familiar shiver of his flesh, and he with the burn of her scent hot in his throat. She freed her hands to find a place at his neck and in his hair.

His own moved along her back, exploring with a most purposeful touch the familiar geography of her body.

She didn't want it to end, didn't want him to pull away like she knew he would, and she certainly didn't want to reckon with her guilt and grief. She just wanted to stay there, burning in this small perfection in time, feeling her body respond to his.

And where it would have ended before, it didn't. He closed the gap between them, her body's flesh molding over his. They fell back into the welcome resistance of the bed.

It hadn't been like this before. He'd been so careful, restrained. She had pushed every boundary and been pushed back without hope of reaching a border. Now, it was her own body warning her, the sparks and trills up her flesh telling her to stop.

When she found air, she used it to tell him as much.

If he didn't know his hearing was beyond human perfection, he might have doubted it. In that split second, as he considered this pinprick of uncertainty, Bella's fears blossomed from possibility to panic and then anger.

He was so focused on her that he didn't see her hand moving. It was only the transformation of her face in conjunction with the sound that made him realize she'd hit him and had likely broken the bones of her hand.

The sound that followed only confirmed this.

He was reciting Alice's litany inside his head. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!

Bella was curled over herself, still making indescribable sounds.

"Please," he said, "I think it's broken. Can I check?"

Her anger, though, was just ripening. "No!" she yelled at him.

When she calmed down enough to talk, Bella could see that her options were limited. She couldn't drive, and she wasn't certain enough of Jasper's control to put Sarah in a confined space with him.

Edward apologized for what felt like the hundredth time.

Anger was a much safer emotion to maintain t so she gritted her teeth and used the ample pain in her hand to fuel her fury all the way to the emergency room.

When they walked inside, Edward groaned internally. It was the same resident on duty that had treated Sarah. The young doctor had caught sight of him, and his thoughts were coloured loudly and largely by a precise resentment. Edward had shown him up too well.

There were few other people there, and Bella was seen soon. Edward stayed in the background, Sarah in his arms. Alice and the others would be back soon, but Edward hoped they left him enough time to try and undo the damage he'd done with Bella.

He was so lost in his own stew of self-admonishment that he missed the important connections the resident was making.

"So," he asked Bella, "how'd you break your hand again?"

"Ask him," she growled.

"Your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Pfft ," she said, glowering.

"I'd like to hear it from you, actually." He tried again, his voice even.

Edward looked up, alarmed, hearing the man's thoughts.

"I hit him," she said.

The doctor was carefully moving her arm, looking at her hand. "With some force," he murmured. "You deal with most of your problems that way?"

No, Edward thought, don't. He was going to open his mouth to intervene, but he was too late.

"Sure," she snorted.

Edward closed his eyes and thought several very impolite words.

"Okay," the resident said, "you'll definitely need an x-ray. I'll just go get that ready."

As soon as he was gone, Edward knelt beside her. "Bella?" he said.

"What?" she growled.

He closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, but he's going to go get the social worker."

"Why?" she asked, her heart rate jumping and stuttering.

"Because he's angry with me."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "And?"

"You just told him you solve your problems by hitting people, Bella."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the social worker: Ashleigh.

Edward hadn't liked the bent of her thoughts on the first night he'd met her, and he liked them even less now. She was shallow and insipid, fortified by the self-importance of her work. Like . . . and here he groaned mentally, Dr. Carr, her friend—she felt she was above the people she served and was putting in her time in a rural setting so she could eventually move into a city job. Bella's name was ringing a few bells in her head. She'd made the connection between her and Charlie, and . . . she was on the committee reviewing the complaints about Dr. Carr.

There weren't enough bad words to express what Edward was thinking or feeling.

Bella, meanwhile, knew the stirrings of an anxious panic in her gut.

Ashleigh was doing her best to put Bella at ease, not with any good intent but because it increased the likelihood of her saying something useful— or incriminating.

As the woman moved through the simple, required questions, Edward could hear that her decision was a foregone conclusion. A chill that he shouldn't able to feel ran up his back.

Ashleigh stayed while Bella followed the resident to have her hand x-rayed, turning to Edward with her most charming smile, saying, "May I?" holding her arms out for Sarah.

"I think you need to ask her mother that." He smiled back, not sparing her the wicked curve of his teeth.

She started and moved closer to the door, doubting what she'd seen, but perturbed beyond what her mind would allow her to consider. They waited in awkward silence until Bella returned. She was followed shortly thereafter by the resident.

This time, though, the young doctor wasn't alone. Charlie's colleague Bill followed him through the doorway, the fluorescent light reflecting dully off of his badge.

"Bella?" he said, looking at her in surprise and then the doctor and the social worker.

"Bill? Why are you here?" she asked, confused.

Edward watched with growing dread, still holding Sarah. He moved to Bella and carefully transferred the baby to Bella's uninjured left arm.

Bill cleared his throat. He hadn't seen Bella since the funeral. "It's, um, standard to have an officer attend in cases like this."

"Cases like what?" she asked, struggling to adjust her grip on Sarah.

Bill looked nervously at the social worker.

Ashleigh was only too happy to explain. Her spoken regrets were dirtily cheerful.

Bella was having trouble breathing.

"Is there a relative who can take care of her while the investigation is underway?"

Edward was done with being silent though. "Sarah's a breastfed baby—you can't take her from her mother."

"She's allowed to visit her, with supervision, to feed her."

"At night?"

"During working hours."

"And at night?" he asked, railing against the woman's bureaucratic obstinacy.

"She'll just have to pump," she shrugged, as if this was inconsequential or simple.

They were twenty minutes into the ugly business when Charlie arrived, harried and out of breath, with a curt nod and a mouthed "Thanks," to Bill, who looked relieved at his presence.

"What the hell, Jefferson?" Charlie said, looking at the social worker and then gesturing to his daughter and grandchild.

"Don't," she said in a tone that told everyone all they needed to know about her insecurity. "You have no standing here," she said. .

He didn't, being family, but he didn't care. "You're pulling her out on what? Because her mom has a . . . " and he looked over at Bella, "broken hand?"

Ashleigh nodded, a solid movement indicating her authority.

Charlie snorted in derision.

"The baby's bruised," she added and jerked her chin towards Sarah's forehead.

Charlie was an unhealthy shade of red. "Fine," he said.

Bella opened her mouth to protest.

"No," he said, holding up a hand towards her and addressing Bella in a soft voice. "Trust me." Then, with a hardness in his voice directed to the other woman in the room, he said, "This is all going to be fine. This very experienced and qualified social worker is going to take your baby away so she can fully investigate her home environment and circumstances. You got nothing to hide, right Bella?"

Just a pack of werewolves and several vampires. Nope, nothing.

"No," she whispered.

"And if we have a complaint about how this was handled, of course, you'll wait until that three-day investigation is done because launching one now would slow down that investigation, right?"

Bella nodded, hoping her trust in her father was not misplaced.

He turned his attention back to Ashleigh. "Of course, you're going to place the baby in the care of a relative, yes?"

"Of course." Ashleigh smiled. "And that would be?"

"Billy Black."

Charlie gave Bella a warning look, seeing the face she was making.

"And he's her . . . ?"

"Paternal grandfather," Bella whispered.

Edward was trying to control his own panic. They wouldn't be able to protect her, not there.

Bella was trying to figure out how Billy was going to take care of Sarah.

"And is he capable of taking care of an infant?" Ashleigh asked, the smile fading now that she was working through a small stack of paper.

"Yes," Charlie said confidently. "He has lots of friends and family to help him."

The Clearwaters, Edward could hear in his thoughts. They would help. He shuddered internally, thinking of the wolves so near Sarah.

Shortly after, Edward left briefly to retrieve the rest of Sarah's car seat. When he returned, it was to see Charlie trying to coax Bella to hand Sarah over. She'd been trying to wake her to nurse her, but she slept in spite of her mother's efforts.

Bella's breathing was erratic, and Edward could tell that her control was loosening rapidly.

He knelt down on the other side from Charlie and said softly, "Would it be easier if you gave her to one of us first?"

She nodded and, leaning down to kiss Sarah and inhale her sweet scent, gave her to Charlie, who made his own valiant effort at control, and walked out with Ashleigh, whispering croakily to his granddaughter.

The resident, less smug now for seeing what he had unleashed, left, mumbling something about x-rays.

Bella's breaths were violent and uncontrolled, tied together with wracking sobs. She didn't hesitate when Edward offered her his arm, turning into his chest.

When the young doctor returned, he stood uncertainly at the door, knocking. It was Bella who told him to leave, using words that did not colour her vocabulary often.

He left and found enough wisdom to summon Carlisle in his place.

Edward was talking her through what would happen and trying to reassure her when Carlisle arrived with Charlie.

The surprise in Carlisle's thoughts was equivalent to the anger in Charlie's face.

Charlie spared no words for Edward but turned to Bella. "I'm going to make sure Billy has everything he needs and then come back home so we can get you down there at least once today, okay?"

She nodded. "Thank you, Dad."

"Everything will be fine. Sarah will be just fine. This'll be over in a few days, okay?"

She kept nodding and hoping and hoping and hoping.

When they were alone, Carlisle squeezed her good hand. "Let's get this set, okay?" he said softly.

"All right," Bella said, rubbing her nose on her shoulder.

Edward's arm was still around her, bracing her body against his own, trying to protect her against all the things that would come next.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.