I won't bore you all with a long explanation, I'll only say that the last year and a half have been hard. A huge thank you to everyone who has reached out to me during that time to ask how I was or just to say hi. A few kind words can mean the world.

A huge thank you to Raum for all her help, advice, and endless patience, and to everyone else who has helped this Pennsylvania girl with advice, recommendations, and information on the Olympic Peninsula. Without their help, this fic would not exist.

This story is set in 2012.

Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners.

Chapter 26

Apart from Irina, everyone had returned to the house. The last two of the family to return were Emmett and Rosalie. She had wanted to come straight back, but Emmett had insisted she hunt and rather than have to leave Grace again before long, she'd relented.

Rosalie.

Edward still felt uncomfortable around her, but she'd been there for Grace when he hadn't. Even if she did have her own ulterior motives.

Grace.

Her hand rested on her stomach. She was afraid. Of course she was. He couldn't imagine the pain she was already in or how much worse was it going to get. It killed him that there was nothing he could do, but the possibility that he would hurt her was more than he could handle.

Alice.

If Alice's vision came to pass, he would hurt her. He would attack her.

And his dad, the state police questioning him.

Grace and his dad, the two people he'd do anything to protect—how could he protect them if he was the threat? There had to be a way. That one, Eleazar. The way he'd looked at his dad, like he was studying him. He'd asked Grace about him, and she'd deliberately dodged. Edward needed to talk to him—alone. But how?

"I know what you're thinking," she said.

"Do you?" he asked, attempting to joke, to lighten the mood, and failing.

"It's not hard to guess," she said. "Alice's visions aren't cast iron. She only sees possibilities. Someone makes a decision, and she sees the consequences. They change their mind and make a different decision, and the consequences change. The future isn't set in stone. We can change it. We just need to make different decisions."

But how did they make different decisions when they didn't know which decisions would lead to the consequences Alice had seen? Or what if those decisions couldn't be changed? What if it was a decision that hadn't even been made yet? What if they made a different decision that made it worse?

"I will keep you safe," Grace vowed.

He hated feeling like some damsel in distress, always in need of his girlfriend's protection. It gnawed at him.

"Your father will be leaving soon," she said. "To make the lunches for the senior center and kids' camp."

Edward rubbed his eyes. "I forgot all about that."

"He wanted to cancel, but it's more important than ever to keep up appearances."

Appearances. He'd never given a second thought to appearances. Now, though, everything rode on them.

"And Pastor Webber is counting on him," she said. "Tanya's going with him. She's not willing to let him out of her sight."

In spite of everything, Edward smiled. He didn't think he'd ever forget the surprise of it being Tanya in the kitchen with his father. He was glad his father was happy. And it sure as hell made things easier. No Ms. Masen to keep in the dark was one less thing to worry about, and God knew they had enough things to worry about already.

Of course, it meant he was probably going to fail English next year.

"Did you see that coming?" he asked.

"I hoped," she admitted. "He accepted the little phoenix she had made for him. One or two other little things."

Edward threaded his fingers together. "What do you think the state police will want with him?"

"I don't know." Gray reached for his hand. "We won't let anything happen to him. If there was any kind of trouble, we'd keep him safe."

Any kind of trouble, meaning if he really did kill someone.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"You need to go for a run."

"Appearances," he said.

"Yes."

The last thing Edward wanted was to go for a run. He didn't want to leave Grace, even for just a couple of hours, but he didn't argue. He needed to do his part, and he knew it. The whole town knew he was a runner—hell Pastor Webber had asked his dad about the half marathon he'd been going to run the first day he'd gone to volunteer making the lunches. People were used to seeing him running. He needed to be seen running now. Nothing could seem out of the ordinary.

"Then we decide how to proceed," she said.

There was no use beating around the bush. Sam had meant the warning he'd ordered Leah to deliver, there could be no doubt about that. If they stayed, a war would break out, and what that would mean didn't bear thinking about.

"We have to leave Forks," he said.

"Yes."

He glanced at her stomach, disguising it by dropping his head and rubbing the back of his neck. There was no way they could go anywhere yet, not until after. But that was only three weeks. In three weeks he was going to leave Forks, and he'd never be able to come back. He'd never see any of his friends again. He'd never see Jake again. Or Billy. Or Leah. His chest ached, but there was no way around it. He thought of all of the times he and Jake had spent together. All the things they'd talked about doing one day. All the things they would never do together now. Jake would do them, but he, Edward, wouldn't. Would Jake think of him when he did any of those things and miss him?

Edward closed his eyes. No, he wouldn't. From then on, anytime Jake ever thought of him again, if he ever thought of him again, he would despise him.

"Edward?"

"I'm okay. Just thinking about it. I'm leaving Forks and never coming back."

He wished now that he had kept up with his training better, but he'd slackened off. Maybe it was just as well. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been at his best. He wouldn't leave Grace for that long for anything, certainly not for a race. Such a stupid thing to regret. It was just a race after all.

It was just a race, but there would never be another.

On the upside, at least he wouldn't have to worry about failing English next year. He wouldn't be there to take it.

And he could run like a fucking bullet afterward. That had to be something to look forward to.

"You don't have to do this," she insisted. "We'll find a way."

"No. I made my decision." He meant it. He'd admit he regretted things he'd miss out on, but he knew beyond a doubt what he wanted. Those were all things he'd miss, but that he could give up. He couldn't give up Grace.

"You can make a different decision," she said.

Before Edward could respond again that he knew what he wanted, Grace said that Carlisle wanted to come in. "He wants to take a look at me again."

"Take a look?—Oh." Edward cleared his throat and ran his hands down his thighs. "He wants to examine you, you mean."

"Yes."

Then he realized the last word she'd said. "Again?"

"He's been examining me every three hours over night," she admitted, her fingers trailing lightly over her lower stomach.

Every three hours? "That often?"

"We're dealing with the unknown. He wants to monitor every change, no matter how small."

"Change? What change? What's changed?" His voice had risen both in volume and pitch with every word.

"I'm pregnant. Changes are to be expected." She put both hands on her stomach, one at top and one at bottom, like she was cradling it, and she cooed to it. "You're growing so fast. Aren't you? You're anxious to be born and meet everyone."

Edward had to look away.

He remembered Carlisle saying the fissures had gotten wider when he'd examined her after they'd brought her upstairs. Was that one of the changes she seemed to relish in?

"When?" he asked.

"He's just outside the door."

"Oh, um. Okay."

Edward ran his hands down his thighs a second time before standing up as the door opened behind him. Carlisle had a tape measure in his hand, but he brought nothing else. He offered Edward a nod and a small smile that did nothing to relax the knot that had formed in his stomach. As he moved the chair Edward had sat in and took his place in it, Edward folded his arms in front of himself and hovered behind him.

Carlisle turned toward him and explained the examinations he'd been giving Grace—checking her stomach, feeling the fetus, listening to its heartbeat. His words swam in Edward's head.

"I'm going to start measuring her stomach," Carlisle said as he lifted the tape measure. "I'm checking her fundal measurement, the distance from the pubic bone to the top of the uterus."

Edward felt heat spread up his neck to his face.

"Normally, this wouldn't be done until later, but we can't rely on standard practices. We can't run labs, and we can't do an ultrasound. All we have is external observation. Hopefully this will help us to monitor its growth."

Carlisle helped her get into position, adjusting the pillows that had been propped behind her, helping her lie down a little more. She didn't make a sound, but her face was frozen in a wince. Edward stuck to him like his shadow, afraid of how much it was hurting her to move.

Once settled, Grace pulled the hem of her shirt up just enough to uncover her stomach. He couldn't bring himself to look. The spiderweb of lines was burned into his brain. He kept his eyes locked on her face. She didn't inhale or exhale.

Carlisle moved quickly. From the corner of his eye, Edward saw him put one end of the tape low on her stomach. He didn't measure far with it before setting it aside and pressing his hands flat against her. He moved them a couple of times this way and that, and then it was over. It had taken him maybe ten seconds beginning to end, if that long. He took no notes.

"Well?" Edward asked.

"Halfway between the pubic bone and the navel," he said in a clinical tone of voice and without looking at either Grace or him.

Grace exhaled finally, but she didn't move a muscle otherwise.

"Is that bad?" Edward asked.

"It's just what I would expect for the size of the baby."

Grace fixed her shirt before curling her arms around her stomach. Carlisle squeezed her hand and helped her to sit upright a little more. Edward's eyes shot between them, and he hovered closer. He watched every move Grace made, no matter how slight. There weren't many as she moved no more than absolutely necessary. For Carlisle's examination to show what he'd expect to see, neither he nor Grace seemed reassured.

"She's okay, though?" Edward asked. "You're okay?"

"All women carry a little differently, even human women," Carlisle said. "Her body is different, and it's adapting to pregnancy differently."

That wasn't an answer. And what about the fissures? The cracks? Had they widened further? Just the thought made Edward's stomach lurch, and he didn't ask.

"Take a deep breath," Carlisle said, and Edward did as he directed before realizing he'd been talking to Grace. She inhaled twice. Two short, shallow gasps. Carlisle didn't comment.

"The heart rate is steady," Carlisle said without looking at either of them. "and the temperature of your skin directly over the baby is unchanged."

Carlisle stepped aside, and Edward slipped back into his spot, immediately leaning toward Grace and taking her hand but keeping his eyes on Carlisle.

"No change in the movements?" Carlisle asked, still not looking at them.

"No," Grace said.

Carlisle nodded. He didn't comment further, but there was a kind of a glitch in his movements, like a DVD that freezes for a half a second before continuing. Vampires were naturally graceful. Their movements fluid. Something had cause him to react, frozen him in place for a fraction of a second before he'd composed himself. What was he thinking? What was Grace hearing?

"I have to go in to the hospital," Carlisle said without further questions. "I'm on duty. I'll come back on my dinner break and examine you again."

Looking at them both, he gave them a smile that didn't reach anywhere near his eyes, and then he was gone.

"What didn't he say?" Edward asked the moment the door closed behind him. "Why did he want you to breath deep like that?" And why couldn't you? "And what was all that measurement stuff about?"

Like she had before Carlisle had come in, Grace placed both of her hands on her stomach, one at the top and one at the bottom. Now that he was paying attention to it, her breathing seemed shallow, and she only seemed to do it when she needed the breath to speak.

"It's nothing to worry about."

"Grace—"

"Truly, it's not. He's about the size of a sixteen-week-old," she said, her fingers trailing gently over the fetus. "Most women will develop a slight baby bump around sixteen weeks."

Grace's stomach was a flat as it was before.

"But by no means is that an absolute," she insisted. "Plenty of women don't show until later. It's perfectly normal."

Edward rubbed his hands over his face. "If it's so perfectly normal, why is he worried about it?"

Her fingers stilled and pressed flat against her stomach. "He's worried across the board," she admitted. "Everyone is."

Grace's eyes flickered toward the door, and Edward turned, expecting a knock any second. None came.

"Yes, please, Rosalie. Thank you," she said. Before Edward could ask, she explained, "She asked if I'd like her to play some music."

Rosalie again.

"She's been so wonderful," Grace said with deep gratitude.

The book Rosalie had been reading from before he'd arrived was lying nearby. He'd looked at it before, and he picked it back up now. He had only ever read out loud when he had to at school, and he'd felt like an idiot very time. A ribbon hung between the pages, marking where Rosalie had left off. Tennyson. Edward glanced at Grace and squirmed. Poetry. He knew nothing about poetry, except that he didn't like it. It always seemed fussy and awkward, and it never seemed to make any sense. But hell, if it was what Grace liked, and Rosalie could read it to her, then so could he. He cleared his throat and began to read, but he stammered over the passage.

"'Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the land,

'This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.'

In the afternoon they came unto a land

In which it seemed always afternoon."

A land in which it seemed always afternoon? What did that even mean? And how could they know what it always seemed? They just got there. If they'd landed at midnight would they say it seemed always the middle of the night? He risked a glance at Grace, and she was fighting back a laugh.

"It's okay. Go ahead and laugh. I know I suck at reading out loud."

She did laugh, but immediately winced, pressing both hands to her stomach. Edward shoved the book aside and jumped to his feet. He was about to call for help, but Grace held her hand up to stop him.

"I'm okay," she insisted, gasping. "I promise. Just, ow."

"What happened?" he demanded.

"It was nothing."

"Dammit, Grace—" Even as she'd told him she was okay, she'd struggled to draw the breath to get the words out.

"I just have to take it easy."

"Take it easy?" he snapped. "All you did was laugh."

"Even small movements are painful, but it's to be expected." She paused a moment, catching her breath, then continued, her voice pleading. "He's pressing up against my insides, that's all. A human woman's body is soft." As she spoke, she repeatedly paused to draw short, shallow breaths, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, around it. "Mine isn't. Their organs shift out of the way to accommodate a growing baby. Mine can't. They're being pushed upwards against each other as he grows. That's all."

"That's all?"

"Yes. That's all. I haven't needed my liver or kidneys in over ninety years. It's painful, but nothing more."

"That's why Carlisle wanted you to breathe deep, and why couldn't you."

"Yes," she admitted. "Everything is being pushed upward and against my lungs. It's a nuisance, but no more."

Edward paced around in a circle, his hands covering his face.

"We're alright," she said.

We, she said. Edward grabbed fistfuls of hair. All he cared about was her. All she seemed to care about was it.

"Go for your run," she said.

He was about to argue, but he knew she was right. Not only because he needed to do his part in keeping up appearances, but because he needed to calm down. He was upsetting her, and if he stayed, he was afraid he'd say something that would upset her even more.

"The sooner you go, the sooner you can get back," she said.

He agreed and knelt next to her, taking her hands and clinging to her. After all of this was over, nothing on Earth was going to make him leave her again.

.~.

There was one characteristic of vampires Charlie admitted to himself that he envied, their ability to think multiple lines of thought at once. He had more in his head than he could keep up with. And what was he doing? He was going to make lunches for a bunch of little kids and old people.

He held his breath as he unbuckled his seat belt, shifting his entire body to slip it off.

"Charlie?"

Tanya. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth in spite of everything. It amazed him. Just the sight of her, and his spirits lifted. He was ashamed of how he'd treated her. He'd been a damned fool.

"Okay?" she asked, the keys in one hand and the other still on the wheel.

He nodded, but he held his breath a second time as he reached his left arm across himself to open the door and haul himself out. They walked across the parking lot toward the church, Tanya on his good side, and she wrapped her arm around his, her eyebrows drawn together as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"It was very kind of you," she said. "The talk you had with Gray."

She'd heard everything, of course. He hadn't known none of them had known their names, her mother and the little boy. It was never talked about, they'd all said. But to not even know their names? He hadn't realized just how never never was.

"I hope you don't think Carlisle overstepped," she said.

"What?"

"The neurologist in Seattle."

Oh. The doctor in Seattle with such the remarkable successes. "No."

"Have you given it any thought?"

When had he had the time? He'd only just heard about the guy. Again, multiple lines of thought at once had its advantages. Of course, like that girl—Gray, he corrected himself—had said, they could never turn it off either. There was no rest from it. That had to suck.

The back door opened, and Pastor Webber came outside, carrying a pile of broken down cardboard boxes. The moment he saw them, he stumbled, nearly dropping them. His eyes shot between them.

"Pastor Webber," Tanya said, edging half a step in front of him. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Esme. I'm Tanya, Carlisle's cousin. Gray is unwell, so I'm taking over lunch lady duties until she's feeling better."

Pastor Webber's eyes grew wider with every word she'd spoken. He hadn't moved since he'd caught himself after stumbling, and he hadn't said a word.

Tanya rubbed Charlie's arm, and Pastor Webber's eyes widened further. He looked comical. Unable to think of anything to say, Charlie tipped his head to him as they walked passed him and into the church.

Laughing under her breath, Tanya pressed her forehead against his good shoulder as they walked down the hall to the kitchen.

"And now you see how men usually react to me," she said. "You once asked Gray. She told you what an anomaly you are. Now you know just how true those words are." They stopped just inside the kitchen, and she stood, facing him, taking both of his hands and grinning. "In my thousand years I have never been more surprised than I was by you, pointing out to me that an object on wheels can roll." Grinning, she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips. It was the lightest of touches, but Charlie felt like it knocked him flat on his back. He felt dizzy. Or drunk.

And there was that 'thousand years' again.

"You are an amazing man," she said.

Charlie scoffed. He didn't think anyone had ever called him amazing before.

"You don't believe me?"

"Oh!"

Tracy Webber, Pastor Webber's wife, had appeared in the doorway. She stood frozen to the spot, her eyes moving from Tanya to him and back again, just as her husband's had. She took a step back, her eyes still shifting between them.

"I was looking for my husband," she said, her tone weak and more questioning that stating.

"He was taking the cardboard out," Charlie said.

She stared a moment longer before bolting like a spooked rabbit.

Tanya giggled, her fingers pressed to her lips. "That wasn't very nice of me," she said.

"What?"

A wide smile spread across her face, and she turned into the kitchen, keeping her eyes on him over her shoulder.

"Never you mind. Women's stuff."

Charlie looked back in the direction Tracy Webber had vanished before following Tanya into the kitchen. What had he missed?

.~.

Edward had gone to the football field for his run. If he wanted to be seen, that was the best place to go. He only made it six miles before he gave up. All he really wanted was to get back to Grace, but he needed to get his head together first. He walked a lap, thinking. Grace's breathing. He wished he could talk to Carlisle alone, away from Grace. Could he? The hospital wasn't far. He could walk there. But how would he explain showing up to talk to his girlfriend's father at his workplace? He couldn't. And really, he didn't want to. He'd though he did, but after thinking about it, it didn't feel right. It would be going behind her back.

He walked another lap.

Alice's vision. He couldn't let that happen. He absolutely had to stop that from happening. There had to be a way. He would not—

Edward stopped and bent double. Grace. Alice's vision. He couldn't even think. . . .

And his dad—why were the state police interviewing his dad?

There had to be a way to stop Alice's visions from happening, both of them.

Alice.

He had to talk to Alice, away from Grace. He couldn't talk to Carlisle behind Grace's back, but Alice was different. It was about himself, what she'd seen him do. That was different. He could talk to Alice away from Grace. But how? He couldn't text her. He didn't have her number. He should've—

He stood up.

Alice—this was Alice.

Alice, who saw the results of the decisions people made. It couldn't be that easy, could it? He started to walk. He didn't know how these things worked, but it was worth a shot. Edward concentrated as hard as he could on deciding to talk to Alice in private. He thought and thought about his decision to talk to Alice in private, to talk to her in private about her vision of him attacking Grace.

His walking turned into a slow jog. He repeated the thought to himself thought over and over, concentrating on his decision to talk to Alice in private, and his slow jog turned into a full on run.

He fell into the run like he remembered doing last year. The rhythm, the adrenaline. The runner's high, that was how he felt. He pushed harder, and it was easy. It felt so good, to push himself as hard as he could. He felt free. All he wanted was to run just a little faster, push himself just a little harder, and he gave everything he had to it.

Lap after lap. He didn't know how many. He didn't count them. As long as he got to run. How fast, how far, what did it matter?

He came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. Three people stood at the far end of the track, and one of them was Alice.

Fuck, it had worked.

And that one who'd kept looking at his father funny. Eleazar. He'd wanted to talk to him, too. Jesus, was it really that easy?

And Jasper, who could influence how people felt. The incredible high Edward had felt as he'd run—

"You did that?" he accused as they approached.

Stone-faced, Jasper tipped his head once.

"Don't be upset." Alice bounced on the balls of her feet. "We've had an idea."

Irritation had begun to bubble up in Edward—he didn't appreciate Jasper screwing around with his emotions—but if there was any chance they really had had an idea, or any chance that idea would work, he didn't care what Jasper did. He rushed forward. "What?" he demanded.

.~.

The poem Edward reads is The Lotus Eaters by Tennyson.

I really do apologize for leaving this hanging like I did. Thank you, truly, to everyone who was willing to give the story another chance.