Bella was in my arms again after six torturous months of separation. She was strangely quiet. Strange because, from what I recall from my perfect recollection, she was never able to stay quiet without arguing with me for long. Regardless, I was content. Content to hold her for as long as she may let me.
I kept touching her face, memorizing all the new changes. It seemed as though these months were unbearable for us both. She had not moved on as I had expected and hoped. I couldn't decide whether to be happy or sad. On one hand, I was elated that she loved me as irrevocably I loved her. On the other, this only meant doom.
Her eyes had sunken, with shades of blue surrounding them. Different from the peachy hues I was familiar with. Her cheeks, too, were more defined. Had she eaten at all in these six months?
I couldn't resist kissing her—her forehead, her temple, even her nose. But never her lips. Much as I desired nothing more than to once again be surrounded by her in that most personal manner, I had to resist until we talked. She was, of course, making this difficult by her apparent vow of silence.
She remained silent for the remainder of the flight home, but she refused to sleep. Agh, how I wished I knew what was going through her mind! Surely if she slept now, she would be coherent when we arrived back to Seattle, thereby giving us plenty of time to talk on our way to Forks.
Nevertheless, she ordered Coke after Coke, the caffeine making her body vibrate with energy despite how blatantly, and understandably, exhausted she truly was.
Although I could have stayed in that airplane holding her forever with no complaints, we arrived in Seattle at last.
Bella, so delirious by now, clung to me and stumbled her way through the terminals.
You really should have convinced her to sleep, Edward, Alice complained.
"Shh," I whispered aloud, softer than Bella could hear.
As we arrived closer to the exit, I began hearing the thoughts of my family.
Esme's was most prominent. Oh, my darling child. Don't you ever do that to me again, Edward!
Your mother was a wreck, Edward, Carlisle said once he spotted me.
BRO, DON'T BE MAD AT ROSIE. SHE FEELS TERRIBLE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, Emmett was shouting.
Rosalie was mumbling apologies in her mind, but I was still far too enraged to give them any heed. Meanwhile, Jasper's mind was entirely focused on Alice, as hers was on his.
As we got closer, Esme ran to us-at human speed, but just barely-and threw her arms first around Bella in gratitude. Then, she focused her attention on me.
"You will never put me through that again," she stated aloud as she embraced me.
"Thank you, Bella. We owe you." Carlisle's words and their mutual actions reminded me of that time so long ago when they had first welcomed me back home, prodigal son once again returning from his acts of belligerence.
Bella slept soundly our entire car ride home, as I gazed upon her beauty throughout the four hours while continuing to soundly ignore Rosalie and Emmett's internal pleadings-Rosalie justifying her actions and Emmett asking me to go easy on her. Unfortunately, neither seemed to realize that Rosalie was the least of my concerns at the moment.
When we arrived in front of Bella's house, Charlie rushed out. His thoughts, though never clear enough to hear the words, were both angry and relieved. Relieved, surely, to see his daughter seemingly safe at home, and angry, undoubtedly, to see me there with her.
His anger was justified, and I only wished he could truly shoot me for my actions the way his thoughts seemed to suggest he desired. I deserved that and so much more for causing Bella such pain.
I finally convinced him to allow me to rest Bella in her bedroom, despite her protests-I whispered to her that I would be close by, but it was apparent she did not trust me. She had good reason not to, but I knew now I could not leave her unless she ordered me away.
Once I settled Bella in bed, I walked back downstairs. As I stepped onto the porch, Charlie called my name.
"Cullen," he stated firmly, "hear me well. You are never to step foot through my front door again. If I so much as see you passing this street, believe you me, I will shoot you. Stay. Away. From. Bella."
"Yes, sir," I promised falsely, knowing I would sneak through her window in a matter of minutes, once he had checked in on her to confirm her safety, as I knew he would.
Bella slept soundly for many hours, so exhausted was she that she barely moved much less make any sort of noise. Although I knew realistically that it was unlikely she had stopped talking in her sleep in these six months, the fear plagued me nonetheless. I lived-as much as someone of my kind can *live*-to hear her thoughts as she slept; it was the only time I knew I could hear exactly what she was thinking with no pretense.
Finally, I felt her stir. Although I still held her snug in my arms, I softly touched her forehead to gently alert her to my presence. After a moment, I felt her stiffen and she squeezed her eyes shut. She remained that way for approximately twenty-eight seconds before finally opening her eyes with a gasp.
Inexplicably, she shoved her palms into her eyes the moment she noticed me. This surprised me, although I should know better after all this time of witnessing her strange, unprecedented behavior.
She opened her eyes quickly, and, wary of her odd reaction, I asked, "Did I frighten you?"
She didn't respond immediately, instead blinking her eyes repeatedly as she stared at me, seemingly stupefied.
"Oh crap," she eventually squeaked.
"What's wrong, Bella?" Maybe she needed more sleep.
She frowned in response before uttering the most unexpected statement: "I'm dead, right? I did drown. Crap, crap, crap! This is gonna kill Charlie."
I frowned. What was she on about? How could she believe herself to be dead after all we faced? Did she not remember Italy? Surely the horrors of the Volturi are not easily forgotten. Or perhaps she was in shock. I had asked for this several times toward the beginning of our relationship, for her to be horrified by something she encountered about my kind and our ways. Perhaps my wish was coming true, just far more delayed than I had hoped.
"You're not dead," I responded.
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