Bella sat in the bed, both thinking about what Rose had told her and nervously anticipating Edward's return. She considered the veracity of what Rose had shared, weighing each purported truth in her mind. Into this mix, she added her own knowledge that she'd gathered in Volterra, recalling Carlisle's words in his treatise. If vampires were unchanging creatures, and Rose—and Carlisle—were correct, then Edward could still love her and not hate her as she had believed.

After months of doubting every goodness as suspect, it simply felt wrong to accept even the possibility that he might love her.

Edward loves me. She tried repeating it in her mind.

After a few minutes, Edward had still not appeared, and Bella was too anxious to wait any longer. She slowly got up, smoothed her hands over her shirt and then made her very deliberate and careful way downstairs. Eight treads into this journey, Edward appeared at the bottom-most landing.

"Please sit down if you get dizzy." His jaw was tight, and he looked very, very anxious—or apprehensive. She couldn't tell, being in such an unsettled state herself.

"I will," she assured him. She had no intention of adding to her bodily injuries.

Edward took a step back as she approached the bottom, and she let out a shaky breath. She had been trying to overcome the physical revulsion she felt towards all vampires, but it would be some time, and she appreciated that he was sensitive to this.

"Would you like to sit outside?" Edward asked. He gestured towards the patio doors. "It's very private here, but there's a view from the deck."

"Sure," she said. How long had she been inside? She tried to link together the periods of light and dark.

It wasn't warm outside, but there was no chill either. Taking in the deep green of the tall trees around them, she didn't doubt they were in the Pacific Northwest, but her precision ended there.

"Where are we exactly?" She sat down on one of the lounge chairs, resting her legs gratefully. Sitting was still very uncomfortable.

"Just west of Seattle—near Port Orchard," Edward replied, handing her a blanket.

Their fingers brushed as she took it, and she shivered. Fear? Yes, a little—but that delicious spark, too. How easy it might be to succumb to those feelings the way she once had.

How dangerous, too. How hurt she could be. How hurt she has been. Now that she was beginning to believe that Edward hadn't been injured by her bargain the way she had thought, she was remembering just how much she had been hurt by him.

"Were you here," she asked, "when you left me?"

"No."

Tight-lipped as usual when hard questions are asked, she thought. A shiver of annoyance ran up her spine, and she checked herself. Talk about swinging between emotional extremes.

"Where did you go?" She made her voice sound even, more even than she was feeling.

"The family went to New York. I went—many places."

Her jaw clenched at his continued evasion. "Do you not want to talk about it?" Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps it had been painful. If he loves you, she reminded herself, leaving you would have been painful.

"I tried to track Victoria," Edward said, "and discovered that I am an incredibly poor tracker."

He'd gone after her, and to think, Victoria had been so close by. Bella remembered the day on the beach when Jacob had plucked her from the water, so casually mentioning the red-headed vampire they had chased away just before Alice's stunning arrival and their frantic flight to Volterra.

"She came back," Bella said.

"What?" His eyes widened.

"Victoria came here, looking for me."

Edward stared. "How did you—?"

"The Quileutes. They're not just human." He would know this, but she wasn't certain what he would make of her enlightenment.

He groaned, hands in his hair. "I never even considered the idea that she would come back, Bella. Her mind was so full of flight and anger at me. I wanted to find and destroy her to make sure she never threatened you again, but I misread her entirely. And the Quileutes revealed themselves to you—you traded vampires for werewolves."

"I didn't exactly have any vampires to trade," she said quietly, continuing before he could interrupt or object. "And I didn't have much choice in the matter."

"I'm sorry." His voice was contrite. "I'm sorry that I left you at all, and in need of protection at that. I'm grateful that they protected you. It's just . . . there is no such thing as a benign supernatural creature, Bella. The wolves are dangerous, just as I am."

Bella thought of Emily's scarred face. She couldn't disagree entirely. It rankled her, though, that he expressed dislike of those who had been her only friends. Her friends were her own choice.

That was it, wasn't it? She'd had enough of men—mostly vampire men—making what should be her choices, hurting her with them. She set aside the realization, forcing herself to be calm and logical. Edward was not disapproving of her choice of friends; he was merely alarmed that they happened to be werewolves. She hadn't exactly let him make his own choice in Volterra, had she? No, there was damage on both sides of this relationship.

"Jacob was a good friend to me. He . . . none of the wolves hurt me." Of course, Jacob also hadn't written back to her in Italy. She wasn't sure if he still was a friend. He'd begged her not to leave, but she'd left anyway. She knew how it felt to beg someone not to leave. In all fairness, it was Jacob's taking that phone call meant for Charlie and his misleading statement to Edward that had made it imperative for her to go to Italy in the first place. Jake would never have intentionally put her in harm's way, she knew, but it only reminded her of how the misguided actions of men who professed to love her had inadvertently put her in the situation she was in now. Still, It would not be an easy reunion when she returned, if there was a reunion at all.

"I'm glad you were . . . safe and that you had friends. You deserve to have many," Edward said. "You deserve to have happiness." His face tensed, and his eyebrows furrowed. "So I ask this with great . . . reservation because, well . . ." His distress, so normally well concealed, was visible. "Bella . . . do you believe that I still love you?"

Her heart tripped over its next involuntary beat. She could get up and walk away. She could lie. Or she could say yes, taking that leap of faith and risking that fall into an abyss. It took several more stuttering heartbeats before she could speak. "I do." She blurted out the truth in her heart before fear swallowed her words again.

He closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders easing slightly. "And do you still want . . . us?"

His words blurred past her ears. She was still preoccupied with what she'd told him, trying to understand the implications of her utterance of those tiny words.

When she didn't respond to him this time, Edward's voice seemed to deflate. "I don't mean to presume. I haven't even asked if there was someone else—"

That snapped her back to reality. How could there be? She'd been in Volterra-ah, she realized he meant before then. "There's no one else. There wasn't anyone else." Her chest still ached because of his other question. Did she? Did she really want there to be an "us"? She found this so confusing. Yes, she still loved him. She had never lost sight of that truth, no matter what had come between them. And now she chose to accept that he loved her though the words still felt unreal.

Edward sounded remorseful as he spoke. "I would understand if you didn't want to be with me, given all that has happened."

His gaze held hers, and she studied his eyes, now a light honey colour. At least he was taking care of himself, or someone was making him take care of himself. She thought about how it had worried her, seeing his dark eyes in Volterra. This made her contemplate what it would be like, not seeing or being near him anymore, just as she'd been unable to in Volterra. She remembered how even those few brief sightings, as painful as they had been, had been welcome. Just to know that he was there, alive, had been enough. There was no question what she wanted if she let her instincts lead.

"Yes, I still want us."

She watched him lean slightly forward, his hands gripping the sides of the chaise as if he were just barely keeping himself back. He loosened his grip, carefully holding out one hand for hers.

She stared at it, unable to do more, unable to reciprocate. "I can't." Her voice shook. She really couldn't, not willingly. "I'm sorry, I can't. Not yet. I love you, Edward, but I think I need—"

"I understand entirely." He picked up the edge of the blanket that she'd left folded on her lap, twisting it around his hand. "Would this make it . . . easier?"

But it wasn't that his skin was cold. It was what that hand could do. She shook her head.

He pulled back his hand. "Okay." His smooth expression revealed nothing of the rejection he must be feeling, and Bella was grateful for this kindness from him.

And though they had erased one boundary between them and acknowledged the bond that held them still, she could not help but feel tears begin their journey at her eyes, running down her cheeks. She rubbed at them with the back of her hand. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Edward said. He smiled softly. "I take them as a compliment."

"You do?" Her brow furrowed.

"People don't normally cry in front of someone they don't feel safe with."

The truth of it was rooted deeply in her flesh and bones. Yes, she did. She smiled at him, a tiny and tenuous production. His smile grew in response to her own, and she took this as a very, very good thing and a beginning to a way out of all the grief they'd known in the last many months.

- 0 -

It was sunny outside, which meant that all of the Cullens were inside the house at the moment, or at least Bella assumed so. She blinked at the bright sunlight blazing through the family room skylights. Edward and Emmett were doing something with the video controllers in their hands. It was hard to tell what because the volume on the television seemed to be off. At some timeless point earlier in the afternoon, Edward had asked her if she'd wanted to watch a movie with him downstairs. She'd said yes, and she remembered watching the first part of the comedy. Clearly though, she'd fallen asleep—again. Carlisle had told her that she would still be very tired for a while but that it would get better fairly quickly. He'd also explained why, but her brain had stopped processing a lot of the information once he got to terms she didn't have a fully functioning grasp of. She blinked again, the blurry shapes around her clarifying more. At least she'd only needed to nap once so far today. If it was still today. She let her gaze drift over her clothes and the light blanket that had been draped over her. No, someone would have moved her to her bed if she'd slept for that long.

Edward glanced over at her from where he sat beside Emmett. Their fingers blurred with speed over the buttons. "Hi," he said, smiling at her. His fingers didn't stop moving.

"Awesome. You can witness me kicking his butt now that you're awake," Emmett said. Then he threw down his controller and stood up to do a victory dance. "Thanks for distracting him, Bella."

The sunlight sparkled off of him, and to Bella, it looked entirely ridiculous. She laughed, the sound that came out of her so relaxed that she almost didn't recognize it as emanating from her. Edward glowered at Emmett, which made her laugh even more. It was so . . . normal.

Emmett stopped his dance, pulling the controller from Edward's hand and holding it out in Bella's direction. "Wanna try?" He took a step towards her.

He didn't get very close because Bella flinched in her seat, and Edward inserted himself between her and his brother, a low vibration in her own chest telling her that he was growling.

"No, thank you," she said, standing up and sliding further away from them both, resettling herself on the far end of the couch. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Edward was bound to be a little hypervigilant, she told herself, all things considered, but the movement recalled others like it from Volterra, ones better left forgotten.

Her cheeks were warm, and when she glanced back up, Edward's posture appeared entirely relaxed and human again. Emmett's back was disappearing behind Rosalie's in the direction of the basement stairs.

Edward ran his hand through his hair, disordering it and making him look more his uncertain self again. "I apologize. I'm feeling rather—"

"Overprotective. I can tell."

It was a small and abashed smile that appeared on his face. "Yes. Rosalie is still rolling her eyes at me."

Bella smiled, too, feeling herself relax a bit.

"Are you hungry? You were asleep for a little while. I can—"

"Thank you, no. I'm fine." She shrugged. "Sorry about the movie."

He shook his head, dismissing her apology.

She exhaled, the minor feeling of alarm now completely gone. Taking stock, she realized that it felt odd, being awake, at leisure, and well . . . calm. She'd been so unwell for the last few days and more than just physically. Clearly movies put her to sleep though, and she didn't want to read. She did want to do something with Edward. She cast her eyes around the room. Ah, yes. The chessboard sat on a small table tucked away behind the loveseat. Edward had begun to teach her how to play towards the end of last summer. "Are you up for a game?" she asked. "Actually, no. Let me rephrase that. Are you up for likely kicking my ass at chess?"

She liked watching him grin. "How about I teach you a few more moves? You're not that far from being able to play seriously against me. You have the greatest advantage available." He tapped his head.

"Do I?" she asked, moving to sit across from him at the small table.

"It appears so."

"Is that a really polite way of telling me you can hear what I'm thinking, but you're too gentlemanly to tell me?" To her knowledge, there hadn't been a repeat of his being able to hear her thoughts since it had happened, but the possibility was there.

"I wouldn't keep that from you, Bella." He set the chess pieces in place. He had the black, she the white. When he reached over to reverse her king and queen, his finger just brushed hers as she dropped a bishop into place. The familiar jolt was a pleasant one. It travelled up her hand and arm to her heart where it curled into a tiny fading whirl of warmth. It used to feel that way, she told herself. Normal for us.

Us. That didn't feel normal yet. She was still getting used to the idea. Her body was still getting used to being near Edward. But it was becoming easier, and that was something.

After two moves from him and three from her, he cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "The Spanish move. It's a good strategy for a long game."

She shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. She'd liked playing chess with him, not that she'd ever won, but it had been fun to know that his family considered her uniquely qualified to beat him at some time in the future. Of course, beyond this basic opening move, she'd forgotten a great deal of the game. She'd only recalled it after watching the old men by the fire play one day at the Conti's cafe. Watching them shift the pieces, she'd recognized the classic opening.

Despite what Edward said, it wasn't a very long game. She really had forgotten some of the key points he'd given her all those months before. After what seemed like only a few minutes of play, she was down to an alarmingly few number of pieces.

"Always protect your queen," he said apologetically, shaking his head as he lifted the crown-topped piece from the board with elegant fingers and replaced it with his bishop. "Check."

She groaned. "Well, at least some things never change."

"What things?"

How did he ask that with a straight face? "Losing to you?" she replied, nudging a pawn forward, wondering if she could take his bishop next.

With an exaggerated sigh, Edward brought his queen from across the board and set it beside Bella's king. She had to give him credit for the sympathetic tone of his voice as he murmured, "Checkmate."

She laughed into her hands before reaching forward to tip her king over with a flourish. "As I said, reassuringly similar." Resting her hands on the table, she watched his features light up with his smile, his golden eyes glowing with something like happiness. Yes, very reassuring.

A/N for 2020-08-24: Many, many thanks to Chayasara for her patience with my salt-shaker of commas and for making all my words make sense. Eeyorefan12 gets credit this week for playing out and filming the chess game described herein, which, once I saw it, confirmed for me that I am most definitely not a chess player! According to her research, Eeyorefan12 assures me that the game *might* just be plausible.

For those of you who are still here, hope you're enjoying the ride!

- Erin

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