The sound of the heavy wooden doors echoes just slightly in the aged corridor Edward and I now find ourselves in. For a moment, the only thing I hear is the sound of my own breathing. Then, Edward's hands find my face; I feel his fingers on my skin, gently turning me to face him. He tilts my head back and forth, running his fingers over my forehead, my nose, my cheeks. His eyes are filled with a complicated mix of hurt, worry, apprehension.

"Edward, I'm fine," I murmur, gently pulling my face back while I reach up and pull his hands away; I hold them in my own. "I'm fine," I repeat, softer.

Edward stares at me, his hands resting limply in mine. He leans forward suddenly, tucking his face against my neck as he wraps me in a tender, eager hug. His palms splay out over my lower back, pressing me close. I can physically feel the relief seeping from his body, transferring to mine. I lean into his touch, settling my face against his shoulder; I can already feel the adrenaline starting to fade from my system, lapping my strength with it.

"Are you okay?" I murmur against his shirt, running a hand up his back and settling it at the base of his neck. "What did she do to you?"

Edward takes a breath, and it tickles my skin as he releases it. "I'll explain later," he whispers against my skin. "For now, we need to go." His voice hangs eerily in the stale, musty air. I nod in agreement.

As we pull away, I look up at Edward and open my mouth to speak, to explain about the cure, but, as if he knows what I'm going to say, he holds a single finger to his lips and shakes his head with a cautious expression. Instead, he links his hand into one of mine and then glances around the corridor. Having regained most of his strength, he tugs on my hand, pulling me down a passage to our right.

With nothing but the echoing sound of our footfalls and our quiet huffs of breath, we wind our way through passages, Edward walking with such purpose and direction that I know he's been here before.

Eventually, Edward stops walking. He closes his eyes and cranes his neck to the side; it looks like he's listening for something. "Alice," he murmurs in utter relief, voice echoing off the old stone walls.

"She's here?" I whisper, not knowing who may still be around to hear.

He opens his eyes and nods. "Carlisle is, too. I can hear them."

"How did they—"

"I'm sure Alice saw us here. She likely told Carlisle, who I'm sure chartered one of his personal jets. This way." Edward's tone is patient and kind, but also a bit curt. I understand why and I can't say as I blame him.

Finally, we reach a long stretch of tunnel, at the end of which are heavy, wooden doors. Edward releases my hand from his and pulls on the double-doors. He opens them just a crack, looking out. Beams of the sunset light stream in around Edward's body. I squint and step out of the way.

When my eyes adjust, I realize that Edward is reaching for me with one of his hands. "They're right here. You need to go first," he says, voice hushed yet urgent.

I take Edward's hand and follow his lead as he guides me out the doors in front of him. I step out into the warm evening glow and see an unassuming, black car with tinted windows idling on the cobblestone street. I glance back at Edward and he nods. I dash around the back of the car, and let myself in the back seat—behind the passenger seat.

By the time I shut the door, Edward is already in the seat beside me. I barely even have time to look around the cabin of the car before a voice I recognize as Alice's says, "Hold on, everyone," and then I'm thrown backward as the car speeds away, the tires squealing against the ancient pavement beneath us.

Edward reaches out, holding my arm to steady me. I glance at the passenger seat and see Carlisle, his body craned back to look at us. "What happened?" he asks, voice full of worry and concern.

Edward ignores Carlisle's question. Instead, he looks me right in the eyes and asks, "Is it true?" His voice is husky, fatigued. He sounds conflicted, as if he doesn't actually want to hear the answer.

I don't need to ask what he's talking about. I take a steadying breath and then say simply, "Yes."

Edward's expression hardens and crumples at the same time; hurt and confusion are etched into the creases of his skin. "Why?" he asks as if the very question causes him pain, and I nearly flinch at the intensity of his voice. "Why would you even attempt something so reckless and futile?" I expect Edward's voice to be angry, but instead it's full of confusion and hurt. His gaze never falters from mine.

For a moment, the rest of the world melts away; it feels as if Edward and I are the only ones in the car. I take a breath and reach out with one of my hands, wrapping my fingers around Edward's bicep. "I did it," I say steadily, holding is burning gaze as I gently contract my fingers around his arm, "because I love you. And because I want you in my life—not as a bystander, but as a partner." I lean closer, situating myself mere inches from Edward's face and, when I continue, there's a sudden heat to my voice. "I want you. I want a life with you. I want to have children with you and grow old with you and travel with you. And I think you want that with me, too." Edward presses his eyes closed, a silent acknowledgment.

I nod my head and set my jaw. "Well, this is the way we get to have all of that. That's why I've been doing it."

Edward opens his eyes and his expression is pained. The rest of the world starts to slide back into view. "But you haven't been able to do it, have you?" It's clear from Edward's tone that what he really means is: Of course you haven't been able to do it. Because it's not possible.

I quirk my lips to the side, a bit annoyed by Edward's lack of faith. "Actually," I say, leaning away from Edward and pulling my hand away from his arm, "I've almost done it."

At this, Edward's expression grows skeptical. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've almost done it, Edward. I've almost developed a cure."

Edward stares at me for a few moments, his expression motionless and full of tremendous consternation; it looks like he's trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Then, for the first time, he acknowledges Carlisle and turns to him with a questioning gaze. Carlisle nods in agreement with me and I can tell that whatever flashes through his mind just then is enough to convince Edward, because when he turns back to me, his expression is cautiously optimistic.

I open my mouth to say something just as Alice takes rounds a sharp curve at a deliriously high speed. Edward once again wraps a hand around my arm and steadies me. "Jesus, Alice," I say with an exasperated huff of breath.

Unbothered, however, Edward continues. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, voice just a whisper.

"If I had, we'd both be dead right now," I say, a bit too harshly. Hurt registers across Edward's expression for the briefest of moments before being replaced by resignation; he knows I'm right.

I take a steadying breath and then smile apologetically. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to wait until I was absolutely sure that I could reverse the change. There was no point in telling you until I knew it was possible."

Appreciation and understanding dance over Edward's face, softening his expression. He inhales slowly, deeply, and then says, quite serious, "You really think you've done it?"

"I think I'm very close, yes," I respond quietly. "Carlisle has been—" The car swerves to the right and I'm thrown into Edward, my arms tangling in his. "Jesus, Alice!" I exclaim again, harsher this time, as Edward straightens me.

"Sorry," she mumbles, little more than an afterthought.

"Like I said, Carlisle's been monitoring my work. He agrees with me."

Carlisle nods. "I do." His tone is sincere but strained; it's clear he has more pressing issues he would like to address.

I glance out the window and realize that we've finally made it out of the city and are now zooming down a paved country road.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

Edward glances at Carlisle and then says, "Carlisle's private jet. It's parked just down the road."

I turn my attention to Carlisle, who has opened his mouth to say something, but I know what he's going to ask, so I interrupt him and say, "They know—the Volturi; they know about my research into the cure."

Carlisle seems confused. He shakes his head back and forth.

"Victoria," Edward says suddenly, obviously answering the question in Carlisle's mind. "Victoria found out. It seems she intended to use the Volturi as a means of exacting revenge for James's, rather than face us herself. She knew that, if it could be proved that Bella was researching a cure, the Volturi would exterminate all of us immediately."

Carlisle still seems confused. "So how—"

"How are the two of you still alive?" Alice interjects, speaking for the first time as she finishes Carlisle's question. Her lilting voice is confused, frustrated, and disbelieving. I open my mouth to answer, but am instead nearly thrown into the back of Alice's seat when she slams on the breaks.

"Alice!" Edward exclaims, throwing his arm in front of my head to block it from whapping against the back of Alice's headrest.

"Sorry," Alice mutters, opening her door and stepping out. I glance through the front windshield and, in the limited sunlight, can make out a small but expensive looking jet sitting on the road in front of us. Apparently, we've arrived.

Within moments, all of us have abandoned the silky black car and are boarding the jet. Alice and Carlisle hurry up the steps at their usual lightning-quick pace while Edward hovers close behind me, matching my pace as I hurry up the stairs that extend from a small opening in the side of the plane. He stands so close that I can feel his breath moving the hairs on the back of my neck.

When we're all situated in the cabin of the plane—which is smaller than I expected, with only 10 or so seats—I realize a man, dressed in a sleek back pilot's uniform is standing in the doorway that leads from the cabin to the cockpit. I can tell from his flushed cheeks and piercing blue eyes that he's human. Carlisle nods at the man, and hurries over, I assume to give directions for our flight back home. Edward directs me to two seats, located at the very back of the plane. I take the seat on the inside, closest to the window, while Edward takes a seat next to me.

There's a row of three seats a few feet in front of us and Alice, her expression stormy but concerned, takes a seat and then swivels it around to face Edward and me.

"What happened?" she asks again, her expression rigid with confusion and relief. "How are you still alive?" Her eyes dart between us as Carlisle returns from the cockpit area and takes a seat next to Alice, swiveling his chair so it also faces Edward and me. She continues, "I saw Alec taking you two; I saw Jane torturing you, Edward. I saw Bella throw herself in front of you and then everything went dark; I couldn't see your futures anymore. I assumed that you'd both been—"

"Everything went dark?" Edward asks. He stares at Alice with intense consternation. "What do you mean, everything went dark?"

"I tried to see your futures, but there was nothing." Alice glances at me, then at Carlisle, then back to Edward. "You remember what happened to Jonathan? Back when we lived in Oregon?"

Edward nods, holding Alice's gaze.

"His future disappeared, too."

"What happened to him?" I ask.

Edward turns to me and says, "A few decades ago—when we were living in Oregon, just outside Portland—a newly-turned vampire named Jonathan started to tear his way through the city. His thirst was uncontrollable; he attacked people by the dozens, killing some but changing many others. We were worried he was headed our way, so Alice watched him through her visions. Then, one day, she couldn't see his future anymore—it just stopped. A few days later, the Volturi stepped in. They executed him, along with the other newborn vampires he'd created."

I shrug. "You die, your future disappears. Makes sense." The plane jolts to life. I glance out the window realize we're taxing down the paved country road. My stomach falls as I remember the statistics for personal jet crashes versus commercial flights; that, coupled with how young our pilot looked, does not put my mind at ease. My hands find the armrests and tighten around the end of them. I take a breath and say, partly to distract myself from the thought of this tiny plane taking off from a country road at night, "But we're both still alive, so why would we have disappeared?"

I turn to Edward, whose eyes dance around my face, thinking; his eyebrows are pulled together over his darkening eyes.

The plane is gaining speed, vibrating everything in the cabin as it accelerates. I close my eyes as I attempt to swallow my nerves. When I open them to meet Edward's gaze, his lips have parted slightly; understanding resonates clearly on his face. He takes a breath and, tilting his head towards Carlisle while keeping his eyes fixed on me, murmurs, "What were you feeling when you stepped in front of Jane to protect me?"

I wobble my head back and forth, as if to say, You know, the usual emotions one would feel when you throw yourself in the eyeline of the vampire who is torturing your significant other. Instead, I say, "Adrenaline, fear, anxiety, panic. Why?"

Edward stares pointedly at Carlisle, whose expression slowly shifts as he ponders. Eventually, his eyebrows raise in understanding. He glances at me and then says, somewhat dubiously, "You think she could be a shield?"

The air in the cabin suddenly shifts—and I'm not sure if it's because of what Carlisle said or because the plane has just started to take off, lifting us into the air. Thankfully (I think), I don't really have time to focus on my concerns about the plane, as I'm more concerned about the fact that all three vampires' eyes are on me, their expressions a contradictory mix of confusion, understanding, and doubt. I stare expectantly at each one, assuming someone will explain what it the hell they're talking about. Instead, Carlisle says gently, now talking to Edward, "There's only been one or two shields in our recorded history—and none of them have ever been human."

"It makes sense, though," Edward counters, his voice serious and contemplative. "I can't read her mind; Alec couldn't invade it to control her; when Aro touched her, he couldn't see her thoughts; and she didn't feel any pain when she stepped in front of Jane."

"And you think her heightened emotional state when she stepped in front of Jane could have allowed her to project the shield onto you?" Carlisle asks.

Edward nods. "And to Alice. The moment we disappeared from her vision was the moment Bella stepped in front of Jane."

Carlisle and Alice exchange a glance.

"Anyone care to explain to me what the hell you're talking about?" I ask in mild annoyance, staring pointedly at Edward. He turns to look back at me and, upon catching sight of my expression, shakes his head apologetically. "Sorry," he murmurs with a faint smile. "Shields are rumored to be one of the most powerful beings of our kind."

"Because they can block other powers?"

"And take them away," he says pointedly.

I frown. "Take them away? As in—permanently?"

Edward shrugs and says, "Not sure. No one has met a shield in centuries, so the specifics of their powers are a bit unclear."

I start to shake my head back and forth, not understanding. "No, that's not – but I couldn't – that doesn't make – how could I be a shield?" I finally manage. "I'm a human."

"That is the question, isn't it?" Edward murmurs and his eyes glint with curiosity and intrigue. For a few moments, Edward's words hang in the air of the plane's cabin, mingling only with the dulled roar of the jet's engines outside. I can feel Alice and Carlisle exchange glances, while Edward's expression remains fixed on me.

Finally, mercifully, Carlisle takes a breath, cutting through the heady air hanging between us. "Well… I suppose that's enough to be going on with for tonight. And besides, I'm sure Bella would like some rest." He stares pointedly at me and I nod my head, the smallest of movements, thankful for the out.

"Come, Alice. Let's give them some space."

Her expression curious and concerned, Alice – somewhat reluctantly – follows Carlisle's lead and abandons her seat. They relocate to the front of the plane, taking residence in two chairs as far away from Edward and I as they can get. Though I appreciate the gesture, I also know it's somewhat futile, as they'll be able to hear everything Edward and I say to each other.

"Bella," Edward whispers, his voice gentle, but full of worry. I glance at him and realize that his gaze is fixed on my hands, the knuckles of which have turned white from the force with which I am gripping the armrests. I watch, growing somewhat numb, as Edward reaches for my hands and tenderly pries my fingers out of their vice-grip like hold. He wraps my hands in his and starts running his fingers over them, massaging away the stiffness. I close my eyes and am shocked to find how difficult it is to open them again; I'm truly losing my steam now, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up with me.

"Sleep," Edward says. It's not an order, but an encouragement. "I'll wake you before we land."

"I'm not tired," I mutter stubbornly. I have no clue why I say this; I'm utterly drained, by mind and body weary from the adrenaline and uncertainty of the past 48 hours.

Edward scoffs and I think I hear Carlisle chuckle at the front of the plane, though I have no idea if he's laughing at me or something else.

I blink again, which is a mistake, because I can only seem to get my eyes to open halfway now. My head, completely out of my control, lolls to the side, resting against Edward's upper arm. I inhale deeply. God, how does he still smell so good? Edward's fingers are still moving over and through mine, working gently to ease my stiff fingers apart. The sensation is deeply comforting, and it lulls me even further into sleep. I feel my eyes slide completely closed. My body slumps against Edward, leaning my full weight into him. Unable to sustain consciousness anymore, I give in to the cavernous pull of sleep, the feel of Edward's fingers floating in my mind.