A/N for 2019-05-24: Profound thanks to Eeyorefan12 for her many hours of work on this chapter, and to Shouldbecleaning for pre-reading. It feels like a big moment, posting this, so hope you enjoy.

- Erin

She hadn't said anything in the car. Anxiety and anger doubly muted her. Edward remained silent as well, although he checked his phone surreptitiously for texts every few minutes.

Traffic had become the viscous crawl that characterized Vancouver's Friday afternoons. When they arrived at the Cullens' home, she hurried inside and saw that Mer and Josh were not just safe, but happy. When her heart had slowed to a manageable pace, she made herself sit down with them for a moment, pretending it was just another day—just another afternoon at a friend's home. She made sure they thought she was fine.

Then she turned to Edward, who was watching her from the doorway of Carlisle's study. She hissed, sotto voce, "Outside. Now."

On the way upstairs, Bella's eyes took in the dining room, which had been to her back as she walked into the house. Spread over the table were an assortment of local newspapers, and articles, most with lines of marker across them. Several open laptops dotted the exterior of the table.

"Research," Edward murmured.

The sight of it all gave her pause, but only the most fleeting kind. She was still too violently angry over the public display he had initiated than for anything else. She turned on her heel and headed for the front door, then kept walking past the parking pad. Bella didn't stop until she knew they'd be well out of human earshot from the house.

"I am not yours," she said.

"I know," Edward said.

"Be quiet." She drew in more air, and then huffed just as much out.

"I was never yours. I have a life. I have children. I have a heart, and you already broke it."

She could see him struggling to be quiet, but he only nodded, hands in tight fists as he kept his anxious gaze level with hers.

"I am not a thing to be toyed with—people are not things to be toyed with, or assaulted—anywhere, ever." Her face flamed with humiliation again, thinking about what her students must be thinking—about what Grant must be thinking. There was an errant question that rattled her thoughts: perhaps Edward didn't understand? So few men truly did, even today—and he came from such a different time.

Edward kept silent, lips pressed into a disciplined line as he waited for her to speak. She thought there was a tautness in his cheeks that could have been shame or embarrassment.

No, she concluded, he'd known.

Her anger found air again, intensifying. Her message needed to be clear. She chewed on her cheek, choosing her words precisely. "I've made one friend here, Edward. That was Grant. And I'm pretty sure you have seen or heard enough to know that he wanted to be more than friends. That's my call. Not yours. I know you might have gotten the wrong idea the other day, but just in case you need a reminder on what is, and is not acceptable, making decisions about my relationships is completely out of bounds—"

"Bella, please. I have to explain—"

"I'M SURE YOU THINK YOU CAN! JUST LIKE YOU EXPLAINED YOU WERE LEAVING TEN YEARS AGO! YOU DON'T GET TO MAKE DECISIONS ABOUT WHO I SEE, OR DON'T, OR ARE FRIENDS WITH!" Her balled-up fists shook forcefully as if punctuating each word.

Edward didn't move, and to her great dissatisfaction, didn't even flinch.

"I know," he said softly.

"THEN STOP FUCKING WITH MY LIFE!"

"I am not trying to . . . manage your life," he said through tight teeth. "I'm trying to protect you and the people you love."

"By assaulting and humiliating me in front of my students? My one friend at work?" Her voice was hoarse from shouting, the weak croak she could manage frustratingly inadequate for all the rage she wanted to throw at him.

"By keeping him alive. So he can be a friend someday."

"What?" she asked. This made no sense, not unless—

"Victoria wants to hurt me." Edward said quietly, "You already know this. And she wants to do it by hurting you . . . and any people you might care about."

It might as well have been a punch to her midsection. She put her hands there, and felt herself sinking as cool hands guided her to a fallen log.

"Alice saw, and of all the decisions we made, mine was the only one that seemed to shift the outcome. I'm sorry I couldn't think of another way and that the one I chose showed such disrespect to you. But if you were important to him, and it looked like you cared for him . . ." He let the statement dangle unfinished.

Bella's mind had no difficulty following his words to their dark and logical ends.

"I didn't stop her with Jacob." Edward said. "Or Matt. I don't want to see you hurt again. I can't watch that again."

Was he shaking?

Maybe she was. She wasn't sure. She was too busy tying all these pieces together. "You weren't trying to stop me from being with him?"

"Of course not." She saw the fierceness in his eyes and he spoke with conviction. "I will make sure you have your life back. No more monsters, no more fears of what my kind will do."

She let that filter through her mind, still grappling with all that he'd revealed.

"Is Charlie safe?" she asked, thinking of how far away he was, even with Rose and Emmett there.

"Yes."

"And my mother?"

"Alice hasn't seen anything." He looked at her questioningly. "Are you still close with her?"

"No," Bella said, her heart continuing to slow from the frantic pace of a few minutes before. No, the unnatural lines of that relationship had fractured when she'd become a parent herself. Renee was another demand to be met, and one best met by Phil.

"And Grant," she started again. "You think he's safe now?" She closed her eyes. Her friend thought she was a liar—too much of a chicken to tell him she wasn't interested.

So much for friendship.

"Yes," Edward said. "We think so. I'm sorry."

She was about to open her mouth to say more, when she felt herself suddenly flying through the air, a hard vice around her.

Her back met the rough wood of the house's exterior, with Alice, Jasper, and Edward forming a rough semi-circle in front with their backs to her. Each of them squatted in a defensive crouch, the trembling of their lips, when they turned their heads to each other, telling Bella they were speaking, but not in a way they wanted her to hear.

"Bella, can you follow our movements?" Edward asked. He didn't turn around.

He couldn't, she realized. There was a flicker in the trees.

"Bella, can you?" he repeated, this time more urgently.

"Yes," she said, although human ears probably wouldn't have heard her.

"Now," Alice said.

All three of them sidestepped to the right, once, then twice in an elegant crab-walk. Bella matched their pace along the wall, reaching the smoother texture of the door.

"Get to Carlisle and Esme," Jasper called without looking at her.

He didn't need to tell her twice. She bolted for the stairs and Carlisle's study.

Carlisle and Esme stood inside, their easy conversation with Josh and Mer belied by the stiff postures they held at the window and door.

"Keep them calm and keep them here," Esme whispered to Bella. She and Carlisle left the room.

Bella knew there was nothing else she could do. If the Cullens failed at whatever this was, she could only hope the end would be quick.

"Man, I missed you guys," she said to Mer, who was busy with a set of scissors and paper. Josh had managed to fracture the glass of Carlisle's otoscope. With her eyes resting on this shiny fissure, Bella kept talking, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. The control she exerted was brittle. It wouldn't last long.

"Come sit with me," she whispered to Josh, patting her lap. He ignored her, too obsessed with the shifting clunk of glass that moved as he turned the handle. "Mer?" Bella asked, throat tightening with the panic she was fighting.

Huffing a little, Mer accepted her invitation, dragging her project along with her.

Bella breathed into her daughter's hair, small, controlled, shaky breaths that accepted Mer's scent with each desperate inhalation, reminding her that they were all still here and still okay in this moment.

Josh was just within her arm's reach and she reached to tug him a little closer.

She decided, listening to the snip of Mer's scissors, and the tinkling clunk of the otoscope, that if this was their end, she wanted to be touching them both one more time. She could feel the tender flesh she had made with Matt, and that the two of them had entrusted to the future.

She jumped when the sound of shearing metal reached them.

"What's that?" Mer asked, glancing back at her mother.

Bella listened silently, waiting for the sound to repeat, hoping against hope that it would not. It had been years since she had heard it but the horror of both those events was suddenly fresh and the sound something she realized she had never forgotten. Long-buried memories washed over her, coming so fast that they seemed to tumble over each other, overwhelming her with images . . . Edward struggling in James' grip as Bella screamed in pain, Jacob's image, then Victoria screeching her rage, Edward again, his face twisted in desperation and sorrow as she bled out on the floor, telling Carlisle he couldn't live without her . . .

"Mama?" Mer asked. Her scissors fell silent.

"It sounded like metal tearing," Bella said, her hoarse voice making her sound absent-minded.

What she didn't say, what she hadn't even realized until that moment when the memories had come rushing back and the thought became overwhelming, was what truly terrified her—what if it was Edward?

There was no stopping the assault of memories now, memories she'd been convinced were delusions before and which hadn't surfaced in years: Edward risking his whole family's safety to sweep her away from Tyler's oncoming van, standing between her and her attackers in Port Angeles, hurling himself at James to rip him away from her in the ballet studio, throwing himself at Jasper when his brother's thoughts revealed his bloodlust for Bella, Edward's stark admission that he would have sought to end his own life if she had died, all the while begging her to stay human, to have the life he could never give her . . .

But he had given it to her. Maybe the decision had been wrongly made for her, and maybe the price had been almost too much to bear but the reward was right here with her: her children—and memories of the good man with whom she had created them and who would live on through them.

Now, Edward was outside with his family, fighting for her life once again, offering himself without a thought, proving his words—proving his love.

And all of a sudden, she felt like she was screaming inside. Screaming that it wasn't fair, that she had lost him again, that she'd been stupid, that they could have been together.

That she'd wasted this second chance.

Unaware of her mother's inner turmoil, Meredith's only response was "Oh," as she shifted in Bella's lap, beginning to cut at the paper again.

The rough snip of the scissors reminded Bella of the one summer she'd shared with Edward and his family, those ten years ago.

"You don't have long to wait, you know," Alice had said. Bella had blushed at the knowing look Edward's sister had given her.

"I know," Bella had replied, trying to keep her hand steady on the scissors. Esme had invited her to help with a quilting project. Despite Bella's protests about lacking coordination and skill, Esme had insisted, and Bella should have suspected an ulterior motive. She'd been trimming the edges of the pieced squares, and while she enjoyed seeing her hands produce something lasting, she'd been impatient for Edward's return. He'd gone to hunt—properly hunt—with his brothers. Esme and Alice had taken notice of her preoccupation and distraction and had explained to her that she was probably feeling what they referred to as a mate bond.

The slightly-embarrassing conversation that had followed had fascinated Bella but she had privately dismissed the idea. While Edward had talked to her about his intense attraction to her, and she had told him the same, it seemed that everything they described sounded like every romance novel she had read, and every crush on a guy that Jessica and Lauren had ever expounded on. She knew how intensely she loved Edward, but at the time, she didn't want to sound like a cliche. Besides, how could she have a vampire mate bond when she wasn't even a vampire?

The sudden appearance of a man's hand over hers, while she was still holding the scissors, had made her gasp. But she'd known the gentle touch of those fingers, as well as the familiar scent her quickened breath had captured. She'd smiled. "You're back."

His own greeting had been wordless and, when his kiss had ended, Bella had realised they'd been left alone. Her heart had beat in a way that felt easier—righter, with him at her side again.

Returning to the moment, Bella pondered the specific memory that had surfaced at such a time and forced herself to think of the man she had married. Bella had loved Matt dearly, of that she was sure, but she now realized their separations never made her ache inside, that their reunions never made her body speak to his the way Edward's did, even now.

She had given Matt as much of herself as she'd had to give, but he hadn't had all of her. He'd had her loyalty, her caring, her companionship, and the very fruit of her body in their children, but she'd known—known in the very essence of herself that there was a part of her that she didn't have to offer him. She had thought it was gone, or broken for good, but now, it was back in force, flexing and growing and crying out for someone—and it wasn't Matt.

Josh had become still. The otoscope lay on the carpet. He looked at Bella, lip quivering, and then tilted his head back and began to wail—not scream, as was usual for him, but wail. The long and mournful howl pouring out of his little body made Bella's blood run cold.

She slipped an arm around his torso and dragged him even closer, lifting him onto the other side of her lap where she held on far too tightly to pretend that everything was alright.

Then she smelled the smoke. The sweet, cloying haze that reached her wasn't thick enough to make her choke, but she did anyway, as she remembered the scent and what it had meant the times she had encountered it. Choking sobs of grief and fear nearly folded her in half with their intensity. Meredith protested her mother's crushing grip, and pushed away to sit on the floor again.

"No!" Bella gasped, when she felt a set of cold hands touch her shoulders.

"It's okay, it's just me," Edward said kneeling down beside them.

"You're alright!" she sputtered out, then awkwardly turned and hurled herself into his chest, Josh still wailing, awkwardly gripped in one of her arms.

"Everything's fine," Edward whispered. His hands were feather-light on her back.

She hadn't closed her eyes so she saw him turn his gaze to the children. She could tell he was listening for a moment before he responded to an unheard question. "A tree came down and knocked over one of the lampposts. It started a small fire, too. Carlisle and Jasper are just putting it out right now."

"I want to go see!" Meredith squeaked.

"Later," Edward assured her. "When it's safe."

Esme appeared, and then Carlisle. Bella felt like a balloon deflating, weak with relief. If they were here, then she and her children were safe. For now.

Josh had calmed with Edward's appearance and had gone back to the carpet and Carlisle's bag, glancing up occasionally in his mother's and Edward's direction.

Edward's arm was now tight at her back. "What happened?" She choked out.

"Come with me," he said, pointing his chin towards the hall.

Neither of them broke contact as they stepped out of the room.

He kept his voice low. "There were three of them. They bolted pretty quickly once Esme and Carlisle arrived, but we caught one. We didn't chase the rest because we thought they could be decoys. Alice and Jasper are outside. She doesn't see them coming back. They were surprised by our numbers."

Bella's eyes swept over him. His shirt was slightly torn. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "We all are."

These were the words that unlocked her knees, and this time, when he picked her up, she succumbed to the shock her body had been holding off, bones jellying, teeth chattering. He ran her up to the main floor's living room at a dizzying pace and laid her on the couch.

"Wait! Josh—"

"They're both fine, but they'll worry if they see you in shock like this."

She fisted her hands at her sides, trying to breathe.

Pulling a small package from his pocket, Edward opened her hand and pressed a flat tablet into her palm.

"No," she said, recoiling.

"It's just a sugar pill."

She eyed it with concern. "Just sugar?"

"Just sugar," he assured her.

Setting it under her tongue, she waited, hoping.

Trusting.

Yes, sugar, her mouth told her. Just sugar.

She tried to sit up, but the world spun again, and she cursed her stupidly-pregnant body for betraying her need to move, scream, panic, and cry all at once.

She settled for quietly releasing her tears, keeping a tight grip on Edward's hand.

"I really wanted to just be mad at you," she finally said.

"You have every right to be." He was kneeling by the couch, watching her intently, letting his hand be held captive.

"But I'm really just glad you're okay," she whispered.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fairly indestructible." There was a soft smile on his face.

"No, you're not. Neither was the pile of ash that's probably on your front lawn."

Edward didn't answer this, but he gently pulled his hand away.

She tried sitting up again, wanting the touch back, wanting—not daring to want what she wanted. The now-familiar ache in her chest returned.

"I'll take you home," Edward said. "We'll try to let your lives be as normal as possible, but I can't promise—"

"It's—" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Let me finish, Bella. Please?"

Eyeing his tight jaw, she nodded reluctantly.

Would he even listen to her, when he hadn't before, if she told him about her epiphany? Would he accept that her rediscovered feelings were just as valid as his? She felt her gut twisting, everything inside amorphous and heavy with foreboding

No, this was where he would tell her he was leaving, that his world was too dangerous for her, that she didn't belong there . . . or with him.

"Once we take care of Victoria," Edward began, "you will have your human life back. I promise you that. Friends, and all the . . . relationships you deserve, without me or my family hindering you. Or dragging more monsters into your world." He hadn't been looking at her as he talked but now he looked up and focused his eyes on hers. " The one thing I can't promise you, Bella, is that I'll leave. I . . . don't think I can." He dropped his gaze again.

"What?" She felt utterly perplexed. Had she heard him correctly?

He was about to speak again, but she interrupted him. "Did you say that you won't leave?"

He nodded slowly, still looking down. "I'm sorry, I ju—"

"Can I talk now?" she asked.

He answered with his eyes which, she saw, had faded to a sombre black.

"I'm really glad you're not going anywhere." Her entire body lightened with the release of these words, and she watched his forehead pull into a wrinkled question. "Because a few minutes ago, I wasn't sure I'd be able to have a second chance with you, or see my children grow up, and those were really the only things on my mind."

Edward's chest rose and fell, but the rest of him was perfectly still.

Her heart lurched. Maybe he'd had a flash of clarity too. And maybe he felt differently.

She looked at her hands. "But if you don't—I get that danger can bring moments of clarity—"

"Do you want to be with me?" he interrupted, his tone hushed and incredulous.

She lifted her eyes to his, seeing the tentative hope dawning there.

"Yes." The word escaped quickly, a short breath snatched in on its heels.

That was good, because for the second time that day, Edward kissed her. It wasn't a shock or an assault this time, it was a welcome fire, and she was the fuel. His usually-cold hands were hot iron where they cupped her cheeks, and her own fingers made fiery trails over his arms, his chest, his back. She was gasping for air when he finally ended the kiss, finding herself half-bent over the side of the sofa, his arm a hard brace behind her.

"Sorry," he said, watching her pant.

"God, breathing," she huffed out between gasps. "Is such a pain in the ass."

A sudden, genuine smile transfigured his face. He pulled her close, burying his face her hair. "I've missed you so much." His words were nearly a sob.

Her throat tightened, and she couldn't find words. She scrunched her hands in his hair, closing her eyes, and holding on, savoring the moment and the feeling of wholeness that enveloped her, here in his arms.

"Me too," she finally whispered.

When she began to shiver, he picked her up, and carried her towards another set of stairs, away from prying eyes.