A/N for 2020-04-26: My beta is an amazing character development fiend, amongst other things, and we are the lucky recipients of her skills. I hope you enjoy the fruit of our joint labours here, and that you are all keeping well in the midst of this pandemic.

Happy reading!

- Erin

Edward leapt, snarling as he caught hold of Bella, bringing them both down in a rolling slide that came to an abrupt halt against a boulder. Their momentum left a muddy wake in the forest floor, the outer edges of which were dusted in pine splinters and needles.

Bella growled and hissed, yanking herself free from Edward's grip as they both jumped to their feet. Then she stilled abruptly, wide eyes locked on Edward, waiting, he realized, for him to explain why he'd stopped her, even while every muscle in her body was still primed and ready to run.

"Where do you think you're going?" he spat.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at him. "I . . . I don't know."

So, maybe she wasn't running from him after all, but was it possible she didn't remember what she had done? Why they were even here now?

"You left me," he said, his voice cracking. "You left all of us. You went knowing she would kill you! What the hell, Bella?"

"I went to save Chelsea and my father." There was a robotic note to her words, but there was also confusion in her expression. It was as if she didn't understand why he was upset with her.

She didn't seem sorry for what she'd done.

"You left your children, Bella. You didn't even think about it!"

"I had to leave. You didn't fix anything!" she shouted back.

He noted that her hands were in fists at her sides as she stood frowning at him but at least she was no longer poised for flight.

He couldn't help thinking that she sounded more like a teenager who had been caught breaking curfew than the mature and intelligent, if sometimes bull-headed woman he loved. Some logical part of his mind whispered careful to him. She was a newborn, and she hadn't even hunted. He should care. He really should, but he could barely hold himself together.

"And you thought getting yourself killed would, what? Serve me right?" he snarled.

"No!" she said. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, but it was me she wanted." Bella hesitated for a moment, looking like she was searching for the rest of that thought. He didn't wait for her to find it.

"To hurt me!" he threw back.

He saw the moment that realization hit her...the hole in her rationalization literally staring her in the face. He watched her swallow hard, and he felt a momentary twinge of remorse for keeping her from what she needed to ease the burn. But the burn of his own pent-up anger was hard to let go.

Bella nodded once, acknowledging his words. "But I couldn't leave them there. Not when I knew it would save Chelsea...and maybe my Dad."

"But you would've sacrificed your own child to her? Our child? Without asking me? Did you not even think to ask for my or my family's help? To even consider the disaster you were making in leaving us all out of this choice?"

"You would've said no, Edward. You said no after she took Grant, and you said no after Sue, and then Charlie—"

"You fault me for wanting to keep you alive?" He put his hands in his hair, gripping it in frustration. "Bella, what you did was utterly insane!"

He watched his words sail into her like knives.

Her face contorted with more feelings than he could name. When she spoke, it was with the suggestion of a tremor in her voice. "I knew that if I didn't go, she wouldn't stop. It might have been Josh or Meredith." She began breathing quickly, her hand to her throat. "You weren't there . . . and I just . . . I saw a way to keep anyone else from dying." Her fingers clutched harder at her throat, face continuing to contort with confusion and frustration.

His turmoil raged on, but his logical mind told him she needed to hunt, and that it was far too dangerous to not have her do so soon. The painful memories of his own transition to this life bubbled up between the cracks of his anger.

"You're thirsty," he said, forcing his voice to be even.

Bella made a soft affirmative grunt, her pale hand still gripping her throat. She swallowed again, wincing at the action.

They were far enough north after their run that they didn't need to worry about humans. Only the most adventurous ones came this far, and then by helicopter. He hadn't heard any in the area over the last few days.

He'd thought many times of what it would be like to help Bella walk into this life, with him by her side—fantasized about the things he could share with her, recalling the many joys he'd watched his family members and their mates relish. In all those fantasies, he'd never imagined himself biting his tongue to keep more barbs from flying.

"What do you smell?" he asked her tersely.

Lifting her nose, she sniffed in a series of short breaths. "I don't know, but it's . . . animal?"

"Deer," Edward supplied. There was a faint scent coming from the west.

"What do I do?" she asked.

"What do you feel like doing?" he asked. He barely kept the angry edge from his voice. God, no wonder Jasper had warned him.

She didn't answer him with words, but looked away and crouched slightly, then launched herself into a run. He followed in her silent steps, and even for all his anger was able to admire the grace with which she moved in her new body. The scents intensified, and in a few minutes, they were able to see a small herd of deer in the distance.

The clouds were moving closer, their dank grey promising rain. A few drops showered over them as they paused at a rocky outcrop. Down below were several deer nibbling on the remnants of cold, November grass.

A gust of wind pushed southward. With it came the scent of something else. He and Bella weren't the only hunters in the area after all; these had been too far away for him to hear. It was the smell of fresh-spilt blood—human blood—that reached them next.

Almost without thought, Edward tackled Bella to the ground for the second time, preparing himself for a battle he knew he was likely to lose, but one he couldn't afford not to attempt. In the fracture of a second it took to pin her down, he scrabbled for all the techniques he'd ever been taught or had to use, trying to think how best to subdue her without harming her. Without the ability to hear her thoughts, he didn't have the advantage he'd had with Esme, Rose and Emmett.

But there was no fight from Bella. Instead, her body remained curled under his, her chest convulsing, as she tried to retch up what she hadn't consumed. Her frame shuddered, as if she was ill.

"Bella?" Had he been wrong to hope all was well? Another violent shudder beneath him made him shift his arms, and help her stand.

"Help me get out of here. Please!" she said, body convulsing again, spitting out venom into the dirt.

She was ill. His sense of panic growing, he picked her up, carrying her away, scenting for other prey, trying to make sense of her reaction.

When they were a safe distance from the hunters, he asked, "Are you alright? What happened back there?"

She put up a hand. "Don't even talk about it. The smell—" She shuddered again.

Edward's mind spun. She'd smelled human blood and—

"Were those werewolves?" She asked.

She thought they'd scented werewolves? "No," he said, shaking his head, mind still whirling with shock.

"Then what was that? And why did it make me so sick?" Her face was strained with worry.

He blinked, still trying to grapple with what he'd witnessed. "Bella, that was human blood you smelled."

She stared at him for a moment, and then turned away, forehead wrinkled with questions. "You're certain?"

If circumstances were any different, her question would have made him laugh. His solemn response was testament to the strain his own anger—and now worry—had put upon him. "I assure you, it was human blood." I would know, he thought ruefully.

Her body rippled with another shiver, and her hand clutched her throat again.

Anxiety made his own chest tighten. What had he done wrong? Would she be able to hunt at all? His thoughts began to scatter in panic, and he tightened his control of his emotions. She needed to hunt. "Let's try going further north." He held out his hand, inviting her touch.

She reached out her fingers in several tentative movements, clearly nervous to make this contact. He didn't blame her. Except for his flying tackles on this hunt, there had been no touch between them . . . certainly nothing as gentle as he'd imagined for them. When their fingers touched, her body and his softened simultaneously, as if on instinct. This, at least, was right. This was the same.

But thoughts of her betrayal still clamoured to be heard, and Edward knew its sting even in this small comfort. How could she have left him as she had when they had this between them?

Later, he told himself, trying to shake off his errant thoughts. Later. She needed to hunt.

"Come," he said instead, and tugged at her hand to lead her north.

They ran in silence, Edward trying to focus on their surroundings, avoiding the wrestling match that was going on between his worried questions and powerful emotions.

When the tangy scent of cougar reached him, he slowed them to a stop, drawing Bella up into the canopy of a large Douglas Fir. Pointing silently, he watched her nod, releasing her hand.

She observed the animal for the better part of a minute—a long time for a newborn. Her eyes followed its movements as it wove through the thick forest around them. Her spring was all instinct, and her bite the same. The cougar fought for its life, and Edward's own, aborted urge was to rush in to keep the clawed paws away from her. Instead, he held himself still, witnessing the messy business of dirt flying, blood splattering, and claws shredding Bella's clothes before breaking off on her skin. Edward's chest tightened, waiting on her reaction to this blood. But she drank, the relief obvious on her face, and then in the easing of her muscles.

While her reaction to human blood still worried and confused him, he knew relief, seeing that animal blood, or at least this cougar's blood, appealed to her.

When she finished with her prey, she dropped its body, standing and looking down at herself, blinking. Her shirt had been almost artfully sliced into diagonal strips, the irregular openings revealing perfected flesh beneath. The blood was everywhere, and Bella's quiet, "Ugh," was almost identical to her human utterance.

It was so her, he finally let himself smile. "Don't worry, you'll learn to be neater with time." He hopped down from the canopy, approaching slowly.

She looked up at him, features guarded. As she caught his smile, the defensive set of her jaw slid away, and a worried expression lodged itself in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she said. She reached for her left hand, going to twist her wedding ring, as she did when she was anxious. Not finding it there, she looked up at him with uncertain eyes and a taut jaw.

"It's at home, waiting for you," he said quickly. "I didn't think you'd want to chance breaking it."

"Oh." Her voice, so familiar yet still so new too, sounded breathy. She looked at the empty space on her finger, and then dropped her hands, fingers still worrying each other. "I'm so sorry, Edward, because I understand now why you left me before. And I held it against you, even after I thought I'd gotten over it. But now I . . ." She paused again, glancing down before looking up at him again.

It wasn't exoneration, and it wasn't relief that Edward felt making his body feel lighter, it was . . . some feeling humanity had no word for. As he had no words now.

"I knew exactly what my leaving would do to you. How couldn't I?" Her face twisted. "But there's only so much death one person can accept on their own behalf. I was falling apart under the weight of it. Sue, my Dad, all those people missing and dead, and then Chelsea—" she took in a deep breath. "I knew there was no point in living at the cost of all those lives. How could any of us live with that?" She dropped her hands to her sides, eyes nervously meeting his. "I don't expect you to forgive me for what I did. I broke your trust, but I had to do it to keep you and my children alive. And it worked."

"Barely," he said, thinking of their youngest. It had been so close.

"I know." Her teeth rested briefly in her lip, which she released, shaking her head. "It was such a quick decision, Edward. Maybe I was in denial about what it would mean for her." Her hands travelled to her now flat stomach. "I didn't feel like I had any other choice, but I knew that my death meant it would end there. I knew Josh and Mer would be safe with you. You promised you would take care of them."

That part still stung so much he couldn't help his own retort. "Yes, I did. It's just that, when you extracted my promise to never leave you, you neglected to offer me the same courtesy."

The fact that she didn't respond, nor could she seem to look at him right then, told him all he needed to know. She would do it again, if she had to.

The thought made furious flames lick up his skin. For all the parts of him that wanted to rage at her betrayal, there were others that saw the brutal logic in her choices. Even though he would always harbour regret for leaving her, he also knew that his choice had been made of the purest motivations. So had hers. He understood that. But there had been so much more at stake.

Both of their choices had led to disastrous consequences—some predictable, others not.

And yet, those choices had also brought them back to each other. A cold breeze ruffled her shirt and hair. No human shiver shook her frame, though. She was strong—stronger than him right now. She was forever.

She was his.

And he was hers.

This was the ground on which he landed: they belonged together. Everything else could be dealt with, one way or another.

Bella was now watching him cautiously again, looking for all the world like a defendant awaiting a courtroom verdict. But he was not her judge and jury, nor did he deserve to be. His next thought made him smile.

"Are we really arguing about which one of us had the greater right to martyr themselves?" he asked softly, his tone almost teasing.

She considered his question for a moment and, although she didn't smile back, she did nod slowly. "I . . . guess we are." The idea seemed to surprise her.

"I don't think I can put into words," he said, taking a step towards her, "what it meant, to have you forgive me, to accept me in your life so quickly when I returned."

"It wasn't quick, Edward. I had ten years," she said. Her stance was still wary but her tone was matter-of-fact.

He paused in his steps. "But you didn't forgive me during those ten years."

"I didn't think you were actually real then."

"So really, it was weeks between realizing what had actually happened and forgiving me."

Her eyebrows nudged together as she concentrated, remembering. "Yes."

Her memories would seem muted and fuzzy, for all the clarity around her now, but they would be true. She had forgiven him so quickly.

And he needed to return that now too.

"I forgive you, Bella," he said evenly. Reaching out his hand, for they were close enough to touch now, he lightly pinched the tips of her fingers, bringing them into his hand. "This is not in any way over and done with, but I forgive you. We need to figure out how to be together and trust one another, but I forgive you."

She shook her head. "You can't—"

"I can."

Though the same shape, her eyes were now that piercing, violent red. They watched him now. It was like being cut apart, held by that gaze.

"I love you," she whispered. "And I don't deserve you forgiving me. I've left you with a mess, and screwed things up royally for our family. I haven't even thanked you for saving me—"

"I didn't," he said. This failure stung too. "You said it before—I didn't fix anything." In hindsight, it was so easy to have a chorus of "if's" wailing in his head. If only he hadn't gone with Emmett to investigate what had turned out to be a false trail, when he knew Leah was going to be there and Alice would be blind. If only he'd worked harder to protect Bella from—everything.

"I was wrong when I said that. I'm here—and only because of you," she said. Her hands squeezed his, the grip becoming painful.

His tiny grimace made her gasp, "Sorry!"

"I'm alright, Bella." He didn't release her hands when she tried to pull away. "But changing you isn't saving you." He hated to remind her of her very good reason for resenting him. He wondered why she hadn't yet berated him for ignoring her choice. "And you said no," he said softly.

"I said no?" she asked, eyes widening.

"Yes. And I am so—"

"But I wanted you to change me," she interrupted him, frowning, eyebrows nudging together in confusion. "I remember it. That part was so clear. I was holding Maddie, and you asked me, and—"

"Maddie?"

Bella hesitated. "Um, Madeline," she said. "It's what I think of when I think of her. But I know it wasn't even on the list so . . ." Her voice trailed off, jaw becoming tight.

He saw the sudden concern in her eyes that he would think she'd overstepped in naming their daughter without him, but it barely registered, so focused was he on the words that had come before. Instead, It was as if a tight band constricting his chest had suddenly snapped and let him breathe again. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head forward, overcome with relief. "I thought you would hate me, Bella."

"Never," she breathed. "I don't think that's even possible." Her fingers trailed firmly over his face, probably not as lightly as she wanted but she was obviously trying to be careful. "I really said no?"

He captured her fingers in his and kissed them, replaying in his mind all the ways that things could have been so disastrously different. "You did."

"I'm sorry for making you worry that I didn't want this," she said. "My memory of before that is so blurry. All I remember is that you were there and I was so scared and Maddie came . . . how long has it been?"

"Three days," he sighed. "Three very, very long days."

"And all this time, you thought I would be angry with you? Oh, Edward!" Her eyes shimmered with tears she would never be able to shed.

He exhaled, sliding his hands around her back and bringing her close. He breathed into her hair. "That—and I thought I'd been too late, or that I'd done something wrong. You didn't say or do anything the entire time. Did you not feel or sense what was happening to your body?" Remembering the pain of his own transformation, he let a shudder shiver up his spine.

Her head moved side-to-side, "No. It was just like waking up, except I woke up sensing . . . everything. It was so . . . shocking." He felt her close her eyes. Yes, it was overwhelming, but he wondered if there was something more.

"Shocking, how?" he asked, pulling back to watch her face. He strained again to hear her mind. Still nothing.

"You moved your hand, and even though I knew it was you, and that I was safe, I felt like I needed to protect myself." She shook her head, grimacing as if embarrassed.

"That's an entirely normal reaction," he assured her. "Trust is definitely something that's learned in this life. But what happened after that was definitely not expected."

"That was me, wasn't it?"

Edward nodded, worried. Not all 'gifts' were welcome ones. He knew that well enough. So far, hers had been nothing but destructive. But such things could be managed in time. She hadn't used it again on their hunt, after all, even when he'd attacked her, so most likely it could be controlled. He wasn't even sure yet if it was a defensive or offensive talent-or both. He tucked away his concerns for what such power would mean. For now, they needed to return home. There were still a lot of questions, and he could only hope that his family might help him and Bella find the answers.

"Edward?" She reached up and laid her hand against his cheek in what he assumed was meant to be a careful gesture. He tried not to chuckle, or flinch, when it landed more like a slap. "Thank you, for making me like you."

"For being selfish, you mean?" he scoffed, although his heart lightened at her words. "I couldn't let you go, Bella."

She nodded, her hand still resting on his face. "Yes, for being selfish. For loving me enough to be selfish, you stubborn, stubborn man. For giving me the chance I wouldn't have had to see my children again and to love you forever."

He drew her into his arms and laid his cheek against her hair. "Forever." he whispered.

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