Chapter 20 - I've Got a Cure

When I woke up, it was to a pounding head and bright colors that wouldn't come into focus. There was weight pressing into my side and worry in the air. Sharp pain, beeps, and needle pricks.

When I woke up, it was to memories I wished I could erase; like it had all been a dream. Moment by moment consciousness came with the price of betrayal, and buried somewhere in the haze of red there was a growl and rage, and Peter. It was so foggy...

When I woke up, I wasn't sure which dream I was waking from. I was in the hospital again, trapped between four sterile, white walls. My head was fuzzy. Everything further than the tips of my fingers looked blurry. I blinked.

There were flowers on my nightstand. Not two feet from the flowers, Peter lounged in a chair, boots kicked up on my mattress so close to my feet I could wiggle my toes and touch the soles. Carlisle glared at him from the other side of the bed, and Peter glared straight back — neither of them moving so much as a centimeter.

"Peter." His name came out in a rasp, the syllables crumpled together without definition. I was already drifting off again. "Peter, get your feet off the damn bed. Isn't it enough you ripped my throat out?"

The surrounding room growled—the hum lulled me back to sleep.

Sun streamed through the window, the light bright and distracting. The curtains were drawn back by a cheerful nurse wearing bubble-gum pink scrubs with hippos on them as soon as she realized I'd been awake for more than an hour and was feeling more antsy than tired. Some semblance of a meal was placed in front of me moments later, and it was in between glaring at the shriveled greens curled up in one corner of the tray and poking at the over-set cherry gelatin that Edward walked in.

I nearly lurched straight out of the bed trying to get to him. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," Edward said. He rushed closer, keeping me from disconnecting everything I was attached to. "I'm more worried about you. Every time I turn around, you're bleeding to death."

Edward hadn't asked for an explanation, but I felt compelled to give him one, anyway. "We didn't plan that part."

Or, at least, I hadn't. In retrospect, Peter had to have been planning it for some time.

"I nearly killed him," Edward said, glancing up at the ceiling. A grim chuckle escaped him. "Peter, I mean. It's not a fight I'd win normally, I think. I only stood a chance because he was so worried about you. In the end, that was all that could calm me down enough to listen to reason. Talk about irony."

"I'm not…" I wasn't sure how to say it. "There… there weren't any complications?"

"No, no complications." Edward reached back and closed the door, before he finally stopped hovering and took a seat. "Carlisle said even before the transfusion there was no danger of turning. There was so little venom in your system it wouldn't have made a difference. I am… I am impressed, with Peter's control."

It was extraordinary, how I was having this conversation with Edward, twice. "Do you know where he went? He's been here whenever I woke up before."

Edward's face remained carefully blank when he answered. "Jasper convinced him to leave for a while, said they have a score to settle. He's going to be furious you woke up as soon as he left." At that, Edward grinned. "Nice job."

That was a bit worrisome, but I was confident neither Peter nor Jasper would suffer any permanent harm. Instead, my mind snagged on Peter's certain frustration. The giggle that burst from me ached, but I couldn't hold it in. "Isn't it amazing how he infuriates everyone? Even Carlisle was glaring at him earlier."

"How did he ever manage that?" Edward asked, baffled.

"He had his feet on my bed. He was just sitting there, feet propped up, stuck in an endless staring contest with Carlisle. I'm so bummed I fell right back asleep and missed the end of it."

"Don't worry," Edward said. "I'm sure we'll eventually get a repeat performance."

We watched each other for a moment, waiting to see who would break first. It was me. "What happened in Volterra?"

Edward glanced away. "I saw a chance, and I took it. I didn't realize Jasper and Alice were so good at evading my gift. I should have thought it through, instead of raging forward, but..."

"Whatever happened to me not being the only one they'd underestimated?"

"I still achieved my goal — Aro did not read me, and Chelsea did not bind me." I could have sworn Edward was smug over it. "I held up my end, even if I wound up needing some help."

The quiet that descended on us was awkward, charged. We had something to finalize between us, but I couldn't figure out how to take that step. My head was foggy, and this conversation wasn't the one I wanted to be having right now.

"About what Peter told you at the motel—"

"I forgive you," I said, quick as I could cut him off. There was no sense in hashing it out; Edward and I wouldn't see eye to eye on this.

"Okay." Fortunately, Edward let it drop. "I'll only ask once more, and then I promise I'll heed your word; is this what you really want, Bella?"

I didn't need nearly as much time to think about it as I used to. "Yeah."

Edward smiled and stood. Almost as an afterthought, he leaned down to kiss my forehead. He spoke so quietly I strained to make out the words, but I didn't think he meant them to pass me by. "I love you, and I swear I'll never stop—but I'll also strive to love you better, the way you want to be loved."

"Me, too, Edward." I inched my hand closer and grabbed hold of his. "Me, too."

Edward bowed his head, a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth as he backed away. He didn't let go of my hand until we were too far apart to reach.

Peter barged in with all the subtlety of a hurricane. He loomed over me, fists clenched and eyes narrowed. "The next time I do that, it's for real. Do you understand?"

I waited for the surprise and gratitude for his declaration to come, but they never did. It took me a few minutes of calm to pinpoint why. Peter and I, we didn't have unrealistic expectations of each other, and right from the beginning I'd trusted that if it came down to it, he wouldn't have any qualms with changing me. He'd told me so.

When it became obvious I wasn't going to start screaming and throwing things, Peter relaxed. "You ok?"

"I think probably very no and very sort of, all at the same time," I said.

"They said you were doing all right." Peter grabbed my chart and flipped through the pages.

"For?" I prodded. Peter didn't get it. "They say I'm doing all right for… a traumatic blood loss patient? That's not a high bar."

"Oh." Peter put the clipboard down and sat next to me.

"What happened?"

"Did you know humans can lose up to thirty percent of their blood volume without requiring a transfusion? You lost a bit more; thirty-five? Forty? Somewhere in there." Peter cringed. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"I'm…" I couldn't get my thoughts to assimilate into anything resembling sense. It took a moment to parse the hazy memories. "You didn't…"

"What?" Peter asked, offended. "Kill you? Change you?"

I couldn't be sure if Peter was serious or not, but that was irrelevant. "It would have worked. It was… it was an option, and I know you thought about it."

Peter took a minute to respond. "I'll admit I considered it: it wasn't a viable course of action. After everything, do you still think so little of me? You assumed I wouldn't endeavor to preserve your life when that's what you wanted?"

"I thought once you'd bitten…" I trailed off, remembering that I of all people should know that this didn't work in such absolutes. This wasn't the first time I'd been bitten and lived as a human. Still, there was something more important on my mind. How many times was I going to have to ask this question? "Why didn't you just let the venom do its work?"

"It's not like it was any harder; either way I would have had to stop before you died." Peter took a breath. "They had to think it was done. If they thought you might be changed, they never would have let their guard down. They had to think I was on their side, even after Jasper showed up. We needed that one second of distraction, to get Renata."

He shifted his weight, some comical echo of how an uncomfortable human might fidget, then abruptly stood and gestured for me to scoot over. Once I'd made some room, Peter laid on his back next to me and crossed his arms behind his head, careful not to jostle. He arched his back as if he were stretching. We stared at the ceiling together for a few quiet minutes. Eventually, Peter found what he was looking for.

"I thought about it. I thought about it a lot — before, during, after — but I couldn't let it go down like that. You made a promise. You told your father that you would come back home. I wasn't going to be the reason you couldn't follow through."

And that was the moment I'd been waiting for. That was when I knew for sure.

"Yep. That ought to do it. That'll be the end of it, right there, the thing that finally did me in."

"What? What thing?" Confusing Peter would never stop amusing me.

"The thing that finally made me fall."

The corner of Peter's lip twitched when he caught my meaning. "Well, don't sound so horrified."

I sighed and leaned back against my pillows. "I'm so screwed."

"So, to take a page out of your book, what exactly does this mean?" Peter asked. One look at him told me all I needed to know. Peter knew exactly what this meant; he was just determined to make me say it. His gaze focused on the ceiling above us, a smile playing at his lips.

"Apparently, I have more warm, squishy feelings for you than I thought." I scowled; it was more fun to pretend to be put out over it.

"This is strange for me," Peter confessed. "With Charlotte, everything was a given. We loved each other. We would always be together. And then, we weren't. I will love her for as long as I walk in this world. I couldn't stop if I tried to, and to be honest, I don't try all that hard. She's part of who I am — but I think you understand what that's like. I cut out my heart and let it burn because that's what I had to do, and I never lied to myself about the consequences — but that love, it never left me. From that moment forward, I was certain that anything beyond a vague hope for a different future was just a fairy-tale. I don't think like that anymore, not since meeting you."

His words reached into my heart and grabbed hold with every bit of tenacity he was capable of. If I hadn't been sure before, I was now. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"I think we just had a healthy and productive conversation about our feelings." The remark was full of mirth.

"We actually seem to do that a lot. At least, recently."

"I suppose." Peter snorted, relaxing some now that the harder part was over and we could settle into our usual banter. "I'll deny it until the end of my days."

I settled back as well. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Peter glanced at me. "Just don't tell Jasper."

The grin that crossed my face was something entirely new, an expression I couldn't have said I'd made before, but the teasing felt so good. "And what are you going to give me in return?"

Peter snorted. "I won't tell Alice which lovely shirts you used as smocks."

"Oh, that is just mean."

"Anything to keep Jasper from getting a taste for meddling."

That was a terrifying thought. "Deal."

"I am sorry, you know," Peter said, "for not giving you more of a heads-up, for making it seem like I wasn't going to try to keep you alive. It's just… well, I didn't know if I could follow through if I had to deal with you being all understanding about it. Plus, you're kind of a terrible actress."

I supposed I could be angry with him over it, but honestly, I should have seen it coming. "Whatever. You're such a dick sometimes, but I forgive you."

"Well, thanks, I guess." I might have been imagining the undercurrent of relief in his voice. Then again, maybe not.

"What do they mean?" I asked, nodding toward the flowers.

"They're just daffodils."

I made sure to show just how much I didn't believe him with an arched eyebrow and expectant gaze. Those flowers weren't just flowers, not a chance. Everything had a message.

Peter made a good attempt, but folded quickly. "Regard, or rebirth. But they're not from me."

I probably should have known. Peter wasn't really a flowers kind of guy. "Edward, then?"

"Yes." Peter looked immensely uncomfortable. "They can also mean unrequited love. I guess he's not so bad."

I grinned. "If I'd known all he had to do was send flowers—"

"Oh, stop it."

Laughing kind of made me feel like my head would explode. I lost my breath in the chuckles and had to fight for air.

"Hey, now," Peter said. He reached back to wriggle his arm beneath my neck and helped me sit up for a moment. He ran his palm in a firm line up and down my arm. "Take it easy, or Carlisle won't let me in here anymore. He's already angry enough over the whole sucking you half-dry thing. I'm on strike three, after this morning."

"You really should stop antagonizing everyone. I'd prefer if they liked you."

Peter scoffed. "I can't help that it's so easy."

"You are definitely the only person in the world who thinks getting Carlisle riled up is easy."

"I'm a man of many talents," Peter boasted. "Don't worry, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The drip I was hooked to careened into the side rail with a crash that brought the nurse on-call running. "I bet. I just bet."

"Rounds in five." She warned Peter with an indulgent smile as she righted the mess of tubing and wires connecting me to the monitors.

Peter gave the nurse a grateful nod, and waited for her to leave before asking, "Want to go to Forks, once Carlisle lets you out of here?"

I wriggled closer and reached across my chest to clasp Peter's hand in mine. "That sounds wonderful."