A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 37 - The Only Thing

Warm fingers skim my temple and cheek, then trail like cotton gauze around my jawline, repeating the action on the other side of my face. The fingers are joined by a pair of soft lips brushing against mine with back and forth, featherlike strokes. Though my eyes remain shut, quiet moans erupt, conveying both my enjoyment and exhaustion at being woken in such a way after a long…and amazing night.

"Is it morning already?"

"Barely," Edward whispers against my mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

My eyelids flutter, weighed down by sleep but anxious to see him and confirm this wasn't yet another dream; one a million times more pleasant than my usual ones, yes, but still a dream.

Faint, almost indistinct slivers of daylight peek through the tightly shuttered window blinds, scarcely enough to make out the outline of Edward's face but enough to see his eyes. It's his gaze, the emerald too incandescent and the intensity too piercing for a mere dream, that convinces me I'm awake.

"It was real," I breathe.

He offers me a low chuckle, now skimming his fingers through my hair. As my eyes adjust to the relative darkness, I note that Edward is no longer in bed with me. I'm wrapped in the blankets' warmth, not his. Instead, he's on his knees, crouched at the edge while smelling of soap and aftershave and wearing a shirt and tie.

"This is as real as it gets, Bella, and I'm going to figure out a way to make it permanent." He presses his mouth to my forehead, lingering for a few heartbeats before he pulls back. "When this is over, those words you won't let me say…" he smiles, "I'll say them a thousand times on that beach in Hawaii."

Our gazes lock and hold, expressing more than those three words could ever express, words which are woefully insufficient for the depths of our feelings.

"But for now, I've got to go. Go back to sleep for a bit, and I'll be home as early as possible."

"Okay."

He gets to his feet. "Be careful today."

"I'll try not to hurt myself while binge-watching TV and fighting Emmett for the remote."

He smirks. "You know what I mean, Cat Girl."

"I do know what you mean. You be careful too."

OOOOO

The next few days take shape as a sort of balancing act between the tediousness of daylight hours juxtaposed with the blissful reward of evening.

No, that's neither fair nor exactly true. It's only true insofar as the next few evenings turn out to be, quite paradoxically and against every previous expectation, the happiest evenings of my life.

The days themselves aren't the punitive exercise in lonely confinement I once expected them to be. In fact, they contain more activity, more diversity, and way more…friendship than I would've ever imagined on the day of my arrival. Special Agents Brandon and McCarty, or Alice and Emmett as I call them, have become more than agents assigned to guard me until my safe house comes through.

Most mornings, shortly after Edward leaves, I wake to the amusing sounds of Alice and Emmett debating everything from what's for breakfast to whose turn it is to walk to the garbage chute.

"Oh, so I've got to throw out the damn garbage cuz I'm a dude? What kind of barbarian, anti-feminist crap is that?"

"You want me to throw out the damn garbage? Then, you make the fucking breakfast; how's that? You cook the fucking breakfast, and I'll throw out the damn garbage."

"Fine. You make the fucking breakfast. I'll take out the damn garbage."

When I join in, they treat me as one of their own instead of as a case, and the debates continue.

"Wait, why can't Bella throw out the damn garbage?"

"I've got no problem throwing out the garbage. In fact, I'd love to take out the garbage. I'll take it right down to the Staten Island landfill and grab some fresh air while I'm at it."

"And when Edward gets home tonight, and she's not here, Em, you can let him know why."

"Fine, fine. I'll take out the damn garbage."

Apart from providing me with basic, day-to-day needs and ensuring that I don't disappear to any landfills, Alice and Emmett spare me from the inevitable boredom of lockdown. We do binge on TV, yes.

"I knew it! Haven't I been saying since two seasons back that he was her father?"

"I thought he was her brother."

"Either way, what the hell is going on in that family?"

But we also do much more. We try our hands at recipes.

"Oh, my God, this must be what hell tastes like if you lick a wall there."

"Why would anyone lick a wall in hell?"

"Curiosity?"

We exercise.

"Jesus, girl, how do you bend that way?"

"With lots of practice."

"-with Edward?"

We play board games, we spar. One evening, Alice, Emmett, and I are mid-sparring session. I've already gone against Alice; now I'm fighting Emmett.

"Harder, Swan! Lift that leg higher, come on!" Emmett growls. "Show me what you've got!"

Grunting, I jab and double-kick, missing Emmett's stomach when he blocks, but he's not fast enough to block the next one. Fortunately, it is padded.

"Oomph!" he half cries, half snickers. "Good one. Dirty one, but good one. That would've been my future kids."

"I've got to use all my advantages," I grin.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, I ignore the sheen of sweat dampening my forehead when Emmett comes at me hard. We block and throw upper jabs, lower jabs, kicks, and jumps. When he catches my right fist between his hands and twists my arm behind my back, I cry out more in shock than pain. However, the roar that explodes from across the room outdoes my delivery.

"Drop her damn arm!"

All eyes turn. Edward stalks toward us in a clear rage, and Emmett drops my arm, swiftly backing up.

"Whoa, dude."

Alice laughs. "Edward, she's fine."

He ignores her and also ignores Emmett for the time being when he reaches us. Instead, he takes my arm quickly yet gently and takes it in as if it's just been put through a ringer.

"Does it hurt? Does it feel as if something's broken?"

"Are you kidding me?" I snort. "Edward, I'm fine," I reassure him, though my voice is pretty breathy, an unavoidable side effect to my exertions. Either way, when he continues with his unnecessary examination, I hiss with a bit more temper.

"I said it's fine."

He glares at me, expression now indignant. "When are you going to stop with the games?"

"Ooh," Emmett hisses. Alice sucks her teeth. And I quirk a brow, swallowing back a sharper retort because I know it's just his superhero complex rearing its head again.

"And what the fuck were you thinking?" Remembering Emmett now, Edward turns his fury on him. "You could've broken her arm."

"I would've never broken her arm, Edward. We know how far to go."

"Yeah, right to the very fucking edge," he growls.

"Man, what is your problem?" Alice adds. "We're sparring. Making sure she can protect herself if anyone ever-"

"If anyone ever, what?" he cuts her off.

This is when I've had about enough, and I'm about to jab him verbally, if not physically. But before I can say anything, Edward drops his head. He shakes it back and forth, and when he lifts his head again, he looks so pained, so terrified. When his eyes meet mine in the next moment, they're no longer burning with fury but with a new resolve, a sense of determination.

Sighing, I hold my hands up to Alice with my own resolve to handle this with Edward in private, like an adult.

"Alice, unwrap me, please."

"No."

Blinking back in surprise at Edward's newest outburst, I turn back to him.

"Can you still go, or is your arm bothering you too much?"

I can't help the scoffing sound that escapes me. "My arm's just fine. I can still go for a few rounds. Have you forgotten that alley?"

"Oh, shit," Emmett snickers. "She brought up the alley."

All our smirks, scoffs, and snickers disappear; however when Edward reaches for my hands and holds them up between us.

"Bella, you're fast and light on your feet, but what you need some work on is anticipating your opponent's next move."

My brow furrows. "How do I anticipate that?"

"Take Emmett, for example. He's huge and overconfident. You don't want to take him head on straight away when he's got all that cocky adrenaline just running rampant through him."

Emmett cackles.

"Just stay out of his way until he's tired himself out, which he always does. Then go for him."

"Hey, don't be giving away my secrets, man," Emmett mutters.

"Ah, so that's his strategy." I nod sagely. My heart suddenly races, but it has nothing to do with learning Emmett's fighting technique.

Edward continues. "Alice, however, is as small and light as you. She'll feint all over the place trying to tire you out. Therefore, her, you do need to take on right away. Don't give her a chance to study you."

"Hey, hey, hey," Alice feigns objections as well. "These are trade secrets, man."

"Okay," I grin. "And you? How do you fight, Edward?"

I swallow hard as Edward removes his jacket, undoes his tie, his shoes, and places them all off to the side. He stretches his neck from side to side, bounces from foot to foot, and when a slow grin lifts the corners of his mouth, my heart stops, and adrenaline rushes through my veins all at once. He curls two fingers in my direction, beckoning me forward.

"So, that alley. Rematch?"

Sparring with Edward in this setting, without the biting sting of betrayal, the sharp edge of fury or the choking grip of fear roiling within me is…exhilarating. He fights how he does all else – instinctively. He's as strong as Emmett yet as lithe as Alice, and with him as my instructor, I begin to learn to fight the same way. We spend the next couple of nights in this routine.

Afterward, I go for showers or baths and leave Edward, Emmett, and Alice to discuss whatever they need to discuss.

And then…Edward joins me. Together, we release the adrenaline we've worked up. He holds me up against the white tiles and thrusts while the swirling steam fogs up the shower's glass, and the showerhead swallows our sounds. Or we soak our muscles in the Jacuzzi, talking and laughing quietly into the late hours while the water goes from blistery to tepid. We finish with almost cold water but with burning bodies as my legs wrap around his thighs, and his strong hands grip my hips, guiding me up and down.

OOOOO

I still wake in the middle of the night, but rarely due to the reoccurring nightmare anymore.

My bare body is spooned against Edward's equally naked one. One hand strokes my hair while the other strokes the tattoo on my thigh. When I recall his mouth on it a few hours earlier, how it paused there before skimming inward, a shiver rolls up my spine.

Edward quietly sucks his teeth.

"Damn it, did I wake you again?"

I chuckle under my breath, then yawn as I mold myself deeper into him.

"It's okay. I'd rather be awake than asleep like this anyway."

For a long moment, we're both quiet while he continues to play with my hair, stroke my tattoo.

"Bella…".

"Hmm?" I reply groggily.

"What exactly did…Kate say that night when you were hiding behind the tree?"

The shock of it causes me to stiffen.

"I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay." And it is. I've accepted that reality does not equate to a fairy tale. The case is fast approaching and as real as everything else. "She said…" I swallow, "she said, 'She's got to be here somewhere, James. We'll put an end to everything if she gets away.'"

Another long moment of silence transpires. I know Edward is wide awake, likely turning the words over, examining them from every angle, though what he'd expect to find beyond the obvious makes no sense to me. All the while, his chest rises and falls against my spine. He kisses the nape of my neck, his lips brushing back and forth.

"What did James say in return?"

"He told her to calm down." I pause, remembering. "He sounded annoyed with her, and he kept calling me 'kiddo.' 'There's nowhere left to go, kiddo,' and 'I want you to know I didn't want to do this, kiddo.' With me, he almost sounded…"

"He almost sounded what with you?" he prompts.

"He almost sounded…apologetic." Slowly, I turn in his embrace and meet Edward's predictably wary gaze. "Why are you asking me these questions? I thought we weren't supposed to discuss…"

His Adam's apple bobs. "Bella," he whispers, "are you sure you recall everything correctly? I mean, are you sure your memory wasn't distorted by fear or adrenaline or-" He cuts himself off as I hiss sharply through my teeth.

"You doubt me?"

"No." His answer is immediate, and he pulls me tightly against his chest.

"Bella, I do not doubt you, but at the trial, not only will the prosecution directly examine your statement word for word, but the defense is going to cross-examine it and you with even more scrutiny. They're going to come at you like fucking vultures, try to chew you and your words up, and spit you out to discredit both you and your testimony."

"I know that, Edward. Counselor Cope was here just today."

"If you make a mistake, regardless of how small the detail, they'll jump on it in a heartbeat."

"I know this," I hiss. "I already have a lawyer. I don't need another one."

"Sweetheart, I just want to make sure that you remember everything exactly how it happened, because if they mix you up with some stupid trick…" His nostrils flare, chest rising and falling with much deeper, angrier breaths.

"They won't mix me up, Edward, because I do remember exactly, and there's nothing they can say or-"

Abruptly, he pulls away and stands.

Slivers of glowing moonlight silhouette his broad shoulders, his muscular back, and his tight buttocks as he disappears into the closet.

"Edward?"

He reappears, holding a small box, the moonlight now sketching his chest and his abs as he returns to the bed and my side. When he opens the box between us, my breath hitches wildly.

"Bella, I want to give you this."

For a long moment, all I can do is stare at the dark, hard item.

"Gee, what do you say when the man you're sleeping with gifts you with a gun? Thanks, but get that fucking thing away from me?"

"Bella, I'm serious." His features are set in stone.

"So am I. Get it away."

"Listen to me."

Infuriated and bewildered, I begin to turn away from him and cover myself with the blankets.

"Listen to me," he insists.

With a deep breath, I turn back to him.

"I need to be sure you can defend yourself. I can teach you to-"

"Teach me?" I snort sardonically. "Teach me?" I'm shaking now, my mind overloaded with equal parts confusion and anger. "Edward, my father was a cop. For safety reasons, he taught me how to handle a gun when I was a kid. I know how to use a gun. I know how to aim and shoot. But now…now I can't even…" I swipe the blankets near the box. "Just get it away."

Again, I look away, but he doesn't budge.

"I need to make sure you're safe if I'm not around. And if you're…if it turns out you're…"

My eyes shoot back to him. "Not around? What does that mean? What are you planning?"

"I told you I'd tell you later on when we're closer to the-"

"No," I snap. "This is bullshit. If you're trying to gift me a gun, tell me why and tell me now. We've spent the past few days playing house, pretending this is some sort of fucking vacation where I hang out with your buddies during the day, and then in the evenings, you and I talk and laugh and make love all night as if this will never end. So, if you're planning something for afterward, Edward, I need to know what those plans are."

He searches my eyes, and I hold his gaze steadily. When he understands that I'm not backing off, he pinches the bridge of his nose before meeting my gaze again.

"After the trial, you can't stay in this part of the country, but I can't leave with you. Doing so would raise too many red flags, too many questions, and I won't risk your agreement being rescinded."

"Edward-"

"No. We won't risk that."

"Then…what are we-"

He cages my face between his hands. "A couple of months after the trial's end, I'm going to have an accident."

"Oh, my God," I choke.

"Shh. Not a real one, of course," he smiles and rolls his eyes, knowing full well that's not my concern. "We'll wait another month or so…and then I'll come to you as Mister John Smith or some such nonsense," he grins. "I'll find a job, marry you, you can finish school, become a teacher if that's what you want, and if you're…pregnant, we'll have our baby. If you're not, and you want to be, we'll get working on that. Either way, we'll be together, for always."

Somewhere in the middle of that speech, my mouth has gone slack. When I'm finally able to shut it, and I drop my head, Edward releases me. In my periphery, I see his hands rubbing against his thighs. Meanwhile, my heart beats out a disjointed rhythm.

"That's…a horrendous plan, Edward."

"Tell me which part," he says carefully after a short pause, his voice mellow yet somehow shaky. "We can change some parts if you don't want them right away or if…you don't want them at all."

His tone makes my head snap back up, and though my eyes sting, I know I won't cry even though I'm brimming close to bursting with happiness. I can only manage a smile.

"What can I change in that horrific plan, Edward, when you make the result sound so perfect? You talk about jobs, and education, and…marriage and children. A family of our own. Edward, again, I gain everything in that plan, but you lose your career, your friends, your family-"

He grips me by my nape and speaks slowly. "And again, you are my family now, so unless your objections are related to your not wanting me-"

I drop my head against his hard chest. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't touch me at first. When he does, his fingertips on my back are as wispy as butterflies wings, as tentative as a schoolboy's caress.

"Don't apologize, Bella. Marriage, family…they're big steps, and I probably shouldn't have tried to sneak them in there like that when-"

My eyes flash to his, and despite the misunderstanding, I can't resist smirking. "I'm only sorry because I'm going to let you pull off that ridiculous ruse-"

He cuts me off by crushing his mouth to mine. "Does that mean the marriage part is okay?"

"You'll be marrying a Jane Doe rather than Bella Swan," I chuckle, "but other than that, yes, it's okay. However, I don't consider that an official proposal."

He grins against my mouth, and our lips mold around one another's in perfect tandem.

"I owe you a ring and a bended knee."

"Damn right you do."

OOOOO

The next night, the dim lamplight in the bedroom plays with Edward's hair and illuminates each strand, highlighting every shade. His head rests on my lap while we watch TV in bed. I run my fingers through it, massage his scalp and wind the longer strands gently around my fingers. In turn, low hums emanate from deep within his chest. They confirm how much he enjoys my touch. I enjoy the knowledge that between our nightly conversations since we became…so much more, combined with our lovemaking and just our general presence in one another's lives, I can help ease his stress.

Edward spends his days living a lie, befriending murderers, building a case. Although he tries his best to leave it all behind when he walks through the door in the evenings, I know how impossible that can be. We both have ghosts who haunt us, who need vanquishing. So we lose ourselves in the here and the now, in laughter, in whispers, in gentle touches and demanding grips.

None of which needs a name.

In the midst of all these thoughts swirling like gauzy clouds, I suck my teeth in frustration. A disconcerting scene in the well-known movie we're vaguely attending makes me groan. Edward turns his head, an amused expression on his face.

"What was that for?"

"She's a stupid idiot, and he's a dumb martyr. They could've both survived that had they done things right."

Edward chuckles. "It might be obvious to you and me because we're watching the scene play out in a movie. But had that been real life, in the middle of all that chaos, I can see how salvation would've gone south for them real quick."

I'm nowhere near as willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"No way. I mean, 'Promise me you'll never let go?'" I mock. "That's clearly a good-bye. He might as well have said, 'Look, I'm going to sacrifice myself here, but you just go on and stay nice and toasty and warm up on that headboard there, okay?' I can't believe she didn't see through that and move her ass over to make room for him."

"First, I doubt she was anywhere near toasty and warm. Second, as I said, neither was likely thinking clearly amidst all that chaos. And third, you really don't think she loved him as much as he loved her?"

"Obviously not, or she would've moved her ass over."

"And what if it couldn't take his weight after all, and they would've both ended up in the freezing water?"

"At least, they would've been together."

"At least, this way, she survived."

I stare ahead at the screen again. "What was the point of her living without him?"

"To honor his final request," Edward says with a simple shrug in my periphery.

Shaking my head in continued defiance, I attempt to shake away my growing discomfort as well.

"No. Chaos or not, she was blind if she didn't realize he was simply sacrificing himself for her."

Edward snorts. "If she stood a better chance on her own than with him along, then he simply did what he had to do." At my dubious scowl, Edward chuckles again. "He loved her by saving her, and she loved him by going on without him, just like the song says." He performs a purposely off-key imitation of the song in question. "I guess you and I are just going to have to agree to disagree on this movie."

All at once, I'm on my feet and striding toward the window.

"Bella," Edward warns.

My chest feels painfully tight; my lungs constricted as if the air in the room is slowly being sucked out through an invisible vacuum. I stop at the windows, my hand aching to push the curtains aside, to throw open the blinds and…and just suck in a lungful of the cool, night air.

"Bella."

His voice is close behind me.

I know it's stupid and childish, but something about our disagreement over a stupid movie has me…more claustrophobic than I've felt since I arrived. My chest heaves with the need for air. When I lift a hand, Edward swiftly sets it back down at my side, and though he weaves his fingers through mine, I sense his mounting frustration.

"You can't," he hisses in my ear.

"I want to see what's out there."

"What's always been out there, plus two more agents in a car, waiting to protect you, should it be necessary. But you can't tempt-"

"Fate?" I finish for him.

"No," he says curtly. "Not fate. You can't tempt James or Kate, or whoever else might lurk around curiously," he seethes. "You cannot."

"Okay."

"You cannot," he stresses through clenched teeth.

"Okay. I won't. I'm sorry." Looking over my shoulder, I meet his tight, smoldering gaze. "I really am sor-"

When he wraps me in his arms, I melt against him.

"Bella," he says, his tone soft and gentle once again, "I know this isn't easy for you, sweetheart, but someday soon, we'll be laying across a warm beach...while the sand scratches our feet and-"

"-and the beach air tickles our faces. Just like a fairy-tale."

"Yes." He presses tender kisses to the top of my head. "Yeah, exactly like that."

OOOOO

"Jump, Bella!"

The gun points at Edward.

"He's here for you this time, Edward, not for me!"

"Edward…Edward! Edward!"

"Bella. Bella, I'm here, baby. Wake up. You're having another bad dream. I'm right here."

When I open my eyes, Edward soothes me with his touch, with his mouth, with his presence just as he's done at least a half-dozen times now. Yet, unlike those other times, the words spill out uncontrollably, weakly.

"He takes you away from me, Edward. In my dreams, he takes you away from me."

As soon as I realize what I've done in my haze and fright and moment of exhausted debilitation, I cry out and grab him fiercely.

"Tell me you didn't hear me. Please tell me you didn't hear me."

"Bella, he will never take me away from you. Okay?"

"Oh, God," I whimper. "Oh, God; oh, God. I've breathed life into the dream."

"Listen to me, Bella. I respect your mom's beliefs, but she was simply wrong, my love. It's a superstition your Uncle Billy passed down to her, and she unwittingly passed it down to you. But it's just superstition. You haven't breathed life into anything except my soul," he smiles. "Now, unless you want me to get even cornier at this time of night, stop worrying, and that particular nightmare will go away."

A series of broken sighs follow my quiet, almost reluctant chuckles. "Are you sure?"

"Completely sure. We'll be at that Hawaiian beach of your other dreams soon."

OOOOO

In the morning, I awaken to strange events.

The first is that, although I can tell it's light outside, and Edward isn't around, he didn't say goodbye to me. He always kisses me before leaving in the morning.

Then, I hear them – the voices. They're coming from either the living room or kitchen, definitely raised in an argument, and though one is male and the other female, they're most assuredly not the voices of Emmett and Alice in their morning altercations.

I slip quietly out of the bedroom and shuffle toward the voices on bare feet.

"You and I both know what that is, Edward," the female voice says, quivering with fury, "and we need it. Now."

When I stop at the threshold between the hallway and the living room, I'm taken aback by the apartment's several and unexpected people. Yet, I only have a handful of seconds in which to school my features into a false sense of calm before each pair of eyes turns toward me.

Edward is only half-dressed for work, his button-down shirt still open, hair disheveled. Emmett and Alice wear the sweats they usually wear to sleep. Then, there's my lawyer, Cora Cope, Special Agent Jasper Whitlock, and Special Agent Rosalie Cullen.

I hadn't seen Edward's sister, Special Agent Rosalie Cullen, since the day of the round-up at James' house when she chased me through the rainy streets of New York. Now, I take the moment I couldn't spare then to note how she's almost as tall as her brother. She has many of Edward's best features but somehow softened and feminized. Instead of his copper-toned hair, she's blond and classically beautiful; at least, she would be if it wasn't for the scowl on her face – a scowl that widens as she looks me up and down.

"Nice," she snorts sardonically. "So, that's what's going on here?"

Without looking down at myself, I recall I threw on one of Edward's white undershirts and his boxers before leaving the room.

I'm about to ask her how my outfit is any fucking business of hers. But before I can, I happen to meet Edward's gaze. When I do, the distress clearly spelled out in his eyes makes me momentarily forget his ultra-bitch of a sister.

"What happened?" I ask as Edward slowly approaches.

"Garrett contacted the Bureau last night. He's ready to turn State's evidence in exchange for protection from James and gang."

My head jerks back. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Edward rakes a hand through his hair, and I know there's more. "It doesn't really come as much of a surprise. I've been sort of working toward this…"

"Okay."

He's babbling. Edward doesn't babble, and neither does he usually share the day-to-day goings-on regarding the case, except for the things we must discuss.

"This is good, though, isn't it?" There's a strange tension in the air that doesn't match the news, that doesn't relate to it at all.

Edward offers me a slow nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his sister watching us.

"Yes." When he swallows and his eyes flash down to my bracelet, I know the rest.

I've suspected he's known all along. He's not stupid, for god's sake. More than once, in the middle of the night, he's reached for it, for the charms. No, he's not stupid, but I suppose I'd been hoping…

He sighs and fists his hair.

"Oh, for God's sakes," his sister breathes.

"Bella, the ADA's already been to see Garrett. He mentioned a bracelet…said that James talked about it. And Counselor Cope recalled a bracelet link that was found in James' safe…"

Instinctively, my hand wraps around my wrist, covering my bracelet, protecting my most prized possession.

"You stupid…" Edward's sister breathes, somehow infusing it with undisguised loathing. My eyes sweep to her. "That was our proof, our evidence that James was there that night!"

"Go. to. hell," I breathe in return with just as much hatred. "It's not evidence. It's all I have left of my parents."

"You would've gotten it back eventually!"

"Can you guarantee that?"

"We don't have to guarantee you a goddamned thing beyond what's in that damn agreement!" She points a manicured finger sharply at me. "You need to remember that!"

"Then you can just kiss my-"

"Enough!" Edward yells. "Rosalie, you heard what the ADA said the other day. They recovered one of the links in James's safe. As long as they can prove that link comes from the bracelet-"

"Except now we have to explain how your little thief ended up with the bracelet in her possession," Rosalie scoffs.

"It can be done," Edward insists. "The bracelet can still be admitted as evidence. It's in the pictures Emmett took from the van of the safe's contents. Isn't that right, Emmett?"

By how the discussion progresses, it's obvious it's all been decided; not merely decided, but Edward has been giving it all some thought for a while. So, as the argument reverts into a discussion, I stand there mutely and dumbly, attempting to accept the loss of my bracelet – again. Shutting my eyes for a moment, I draw in a deep breath, then turn back toward the bedroom.

About a quarter of an hour later, Edward climbs back into the bed. For a long moment, though I feel him behind me, neither one of us stirs. When he pulls me against his chest, I allow it, curl myself into him, and he sighs against the nape of my neck as if he hadn't been sure.

His hand reaches for my bracelet, and I only stiffen for a second as he silently fingers my charms, one by one. We listen to the soft jingles as the charms clink against one another.

"Tell me about them," he murmurs in my ear.

So, I tell him. I share everything from receiving the bracelet with the first charm and every charm that followed. He listens intently, asking interested questions while playing with each specific charm as I tell its story. Finally, I tell him about the final charm I received from my father on that final night. I share Charlie's words as he clipped it to my bracelet.

'An apple a day keeps the doctor away…'

I tell him about how my bracelet got caught on the tree bark, and when I yanked my wrist away, I lost it. I tell him about how James found it and taunted me. I tell him how, for a long, long time, retrieving my bracelet and a part of my family was the most blinding…and important thing. The only thing.

"I didn't…I didn't want to have to talk about that in front of a courtroom to share my final conversation with my dad."

Edward is silent. In a perfect world, in a movie – not the one we watched the night before, but in a fairy-tale movie – Edward would promise me that I wouldn't have to give up my bracelet nor share my final conversation with my dad. He'd vow to find a way around it. But we're in neither a fairy-tale nor a perfect world, and I suppose I've always known that.

"Bella," he whispers, "the trial is going to be difficult. You'll have to share a lot I wish you wouldn't have to share."

I manage a nod.

"I'll be there with you, Bella, every step of the way."

Again, I nod because I know he will.

"And I swear to you, I'll do everything I can to make sure you get your bracelet back."

I nod once more. It's how I grant him my permission, and he takes it for what it is. He unclasps my bracelet, and just like that, it's once again taken from me.

When he flips me over and hovers above me, I feel the guilt and apologies rolling off him. They're in how he holds me, in how he drops his head to my chest. It's in the pain in his eyes when I lift his head and kiss him.

"I'm sor-"

I silence him with another kiss. "Stop. The other night, you told me I still didn't understand. But you're the one misunderstanding now. I neither want nor need any more of your guilt or apologies. Edward…the bracelet…it'll always be special to me, but it's no longer the only thing, nor the most important thing. As long as I have you, that's the only thing that matters. All else, I can live without."

A/N: Thoughts?

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