A/N: I do not own Twilight. It belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I also do not own the ideas of Jasper as the God of War or Peter just knowing shit. They belong to idreamofeddy.

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a bit. Life with depression makes for an interesting writing schedule. You can pretty much assume that between the busy schedules of my team and my down days, I'm probably always going to have at least a couple of months between posts, as I'm sure you've already figured out by now if you've stuck with me for any length of time. I'm also sorry about not replying to reviews. My computer was still broken for a big chunk of the time between this post and the last one.

A huge thank you goes out to Juliangelus and Kayozm. I would go a little nutty while writing this if I didn't have them. They help me to polish and perfect every single word it feels like. They are also my cheerleaders and they make me feel good about myself, so there's that.

So... Week 4 is another long one... I hope you enjoy it!

oOo

Week 4

Monday, January 25th, 2081

CPOV

I sat at a booth along the wall in the middle of the diner Bella worked at with my back to the windows and away from the rest of the customers, watching her with as much subtlety as I was capable. It had been a lucky break that I could be here now, several factors coming together to make it happen with little conflict—the opening in my work schedule, the timing of Bella's shift, and the fact that neither Leah Clearwater nor Paul Lahote were here, thus preserving our much-needed privacy. If Bella would agree to come to my office at the hospital, I would have conducted this meeting there, but I knew her better than that.

It was yet another few hours I was spending away from Esme, and while conversing with Bella was important and necessary, I couldn't help but feel guilty about that. I had left my mate on her own so often in the wake of such a traumatic event, forcing her to deal with it without me there to provide comfort and support, that I felt I was failing her. She was strong and insisted she was fine, but that did little to appease my regret. My being there for her wasn't about her fortitude. I was tempted to leave Forks General to fend for itself, regardless of the consequences to our façade of normality or of how it might draw the attention of the Quileutes. But it was also to protect Jasper, and no matter how much I might have wanted to shirk all my responsibilities for my mate, and the rest of my family really, I would not risk him, and Esme agreed with that and gave her blessing.

I took a slow, small sip of my water and a tiny spoonful of the broth of the second bowl of chicken noodle soup I'd ordered to keep up appearances—water was digestible to vampires; it made up 90% of plasma, and therefore, was absorbable for us, however unnecessary. The food and drink helped to maintain the human charade when needed with no harm done. Even as I acted the part I didn't take my eyes off Bella. I had never taken such care in observing her before, despite how much I monitored her for indicators that her emotional and physical health were deteriorating. As I watched her, I regretted not dedicating more of my attention to the finer details.

The way she moved was far beyond that of a typical teenage girl. Each movement of her body was smooth, as graceful as an extensively trained dancer. I had noticed that to an extent, of course, but never like this. However, it wasn't her grace that truly drew my attention, beautiful though it was. No, it was the efficiency of her movement that drew me in. She didn't take one step that wasn't needed. She was precise and deliberate but hid it in the relaxed way she carried herself. If one wasn't paying proper attention, as I hadn't been, it would be very easy to miss. I had met vampires that didn't have that much body control and awareness, including some of my family, despite that it came easier to us merely because of what we were. She also seemed to have an impeccable sense of where she existed in the world as well as how everything and everyone else existed around her. It wasn't just her effortless physicality and incredible spatial awareness that I noticed though. It was the way she treated her customers, quickly and correctly assessing their needs and adjusting herself accordingly. Most would simply call it excellent customer service, but it was more than that. It was as if she became a different person for each customer.

The diner was busy today, at the dinner rush—with Bella weaving adeptly around and in between the other servers and customers that were out of their seats—patrons mostly consisting of locals but also one group of five college-aged boys passing through Forks on their way to an unspecified destination. Bella had stepped up to their table, quickly gauging them and noting their cues in order to become what they needed. From the way four of the five boys had thoroughly and obviously looked her up and down, lecherous expressions on their faces, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for her to play coy and flirt, but I knew Bella better than that, and instead their table was the only one she did not cater to. She was unfailingly polite but paid their suggestive commentary absolutely no mind, remaining professional to a fault, and kept her focus mainly on the boy who had not ogled her. Despite her lack of engagement, she still had the lot of them eating out of the palm of her hand by the time they ordered, desperately vying for her attention with the hope that she would relent and flirt back; she didn't. When she reached the boy on the left end of the booth he was interrupted by one of his friends before he could finish ordering. His reply—which I didn't hear because I had kept my hearing at human level since I'd set foot in the diner—was easy and he resumed telling her what he'd selected a mere second later. A few moments later, for whatever reason, she froze. Her stylus still hovered above the tablet she used to record orders and she stared down at its screen for a full twenty-five seconds without saying a word. It didn't appear as though she was paying any attention at all to the table before her. The boys waited a good ten seconds, confused, before they tried to re-engage her but she didn't respond and after a while, they stopped trying to get through to her. Their discomfort over her bizarre behavior was visible.

Eventually, she turned on her heel without another word or acknowledgment, tablet hanging limply at her side in a lax grip, and sedately made the trek to the window where food orders were picked up by the servers to be taken to their customers. Outwardly, very little had changed—she was still relaxed and moved with that sure, innate grace. Despite that, her movement now lacked the intention of before.

From what I could see, her expression was distant, somewhere else entirely. Bella only stopped when she came up to the metal counter that made up the bottom of the order window. She stood there looking absently at the shiny surface of the counter for a full forty-two seconds until one of the cooks noticed her and moved to see if there was something she needed. After several seconds of attempting to get her to respond, her head rose up from its downward position and she finally spoke in a way that didn't betray her odd behavior in the slightest. And just like that, she was fine. Then the food for one of her tables came up and she took it where it was supposed to go. She did, however, hand off the table of college boys to another server and spent the next thirty minutes avoiding their table.

When those thirty minutes were done, she disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes and when she reappeared she was carrying another round serving tray, perfectly balanced and steady, heading in my direction. She slid the tray onto the table fluidly before taking the seat across from me. Unloading her plate, bowl, and glass from the tray and onto the table, she unrolled her bundle of silverware from its napkin and meticulously placed it to the side of her plate just so. She too had a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a glass of that horrid soda she liked so much—Sprite this time—and a turkey sandwich. It was plain-looking—white bread in place of the organic multi-grain kind Esme always bought with none of the usual toppings she favored, and my nose told me it lacked any and all condiments as well. It was so unlike some of the sandwich monstrosities Esme had made for her in the months Bella had lived with us that I was almost baffled by it, not to mention that the meal itself wasn't nearly as much food as she usually ate. I could come up with no explanation for the lackluster sandwich. However, the explanation for the smaller meal could be that she'd eaten something earlier in her shift. Then again, if she ate as much food here as she did at home, she would likely bankrupt her employers, so it was possible she never sated her full appetite when she was working. That could be why she always ate when she got home from work, even if it was late.

"You've got one hour to tell me why you're here, and twenty of those minutes will include me stuffing my face, so budget your time wisely," Bella advised. I decided not to hide my amusement over her suggestion, feeling a small smile grace my lips.

I let her focus on eating for those twenty minutes instead of engaging her in conversation, though it was difficult to refrain from asking her about her day. I wanted to know every little thing there was to know about my newest daughter, almost even more so than I did the others if only because Bella was so careful to keep those details so close to the vest. I couldn't exactly call her secretive. It was to be expected that she would be careful with all the little things that made her uniquely "her" when we were all still in the early stages of our relationships with her and had only made a little dent in the walls she had constructed around herself. She had yet to trust us fully despite the fact that we all tried to prove to her that we could be worthy of that trust if she just let herself believe it.

"Are you here because of the blood?" she inquired, pulling me from my thoughts.

"In part," I confirmed. I supposed that really was a rather obvious conclusion to come to as far as reasons for my presence here went, especially since my being here was more than a little odd; not just to her but especially to the townsfolk.

"Well, it was just a run of the mill bloody nose if that eases your mind," Bella reassured me.

"There was quite a bit of blood for just a run of the mill bloody nose," I pointed out.

"But not a dangerous amount," she stated evenly. I didn't refute it and she definitely noticed but made no mention of it. "Something as benign as a minor nasal hemorrhage isn't really that concerning. I know it's uncomfortable for you guys, but worrying about it is going a little overboard for such a common phenomenon."

"Perhaps," I conceded. "But that's not really the point."

"Okay," she said. "What is the point?"

"If it was something more serious, I'm not convinced you would come to me about it," I surmised. I wished that that wasn't true but I knew better.

"Why is that?" she asked curiously. I imagined she was also a little wary but nothing about her facial expression or body language confirmed that I was correct.

"Because not too long ago, when your life was on the line, you would rather have died than go to a hospital," I responded, my mind drifting back to Louisville months ago and how afraid I had been that she wouldn't survive, the hurt of that possibility an echo in my heart.

Bella shrugged. "What did I need a hospital for? I had you."

"And if I hadn't found you?" I pressed.

"There's really no use asking that question because you did find me," she replied without missing a beat, not acknowledging that she would be dead if not for my intervention.

Even with it, she should still be dead. The fact that she wasn't was a miracle that I often turned over in my mind when I had the privacy from Edward to do so. At the heart of me I was a doctor and also a scientist that yearned for knowledge and the ability to solve compelling mysteries, and if I was a different man I would pull on that thread until I had answers. But I wasn't a different man—I was a family man—and while I would genuinely like to know why, I knew better. Pulling on that thread meant losing Bella, so I was content enough to leave it be despite my lingering curiosity.

"The what-ifs don't really bear consideration, so why bother?" she continued. "Besides, I don't really need a hospital when you can tell whether or not I'm okay all on your own."

"I can personally detect many things," I agreed, trying not to let my mind begin to wander to any and all reasons for her vehement need to avoid hospitals, "but not all."

Bella merely smiled at me knowingly. "But there would definitely be symptoms of greater illnesses that you could detect. If I had any of those symptoms we would be having an entirely different conversation."

I chose not to respond, instead smiling blandly in return in place of acknowledging that this topic had been backed into a corner I likely couldn't extract it from—Bella was too stubborn and would continue to give nothing but ambiguous answers and statements until I gave up. Continuing with this line of questioning would get us nowhere and if I ignored that and persisted, it could turn confrontational and that's not what I wanted. She wasn't actually wrong anyway. One bloody nose was only a big deal if one was a human in the unique position of living in a house full of vampires. It was a good thing my family had such excellent control over their bloodlust and had had the good sense to flee before any irrevocable harm could be done. She was also right in that I could not see, hear, nor smell any signs of sickness in her; we really would be having a different conversation if that weren't the case.

"Why else are you here?" she queried moments later. "Because it's clear to me that the blood isn't the main event."

"A lot has happened in the last few weeks," I said, not bothering to disagree.

Bella turned somber at the mention of those events. "Yeah. What about that day has you showing up here and watching me work for hours on end? Surely I'm not interesting enough to be worthy of so much of your attention."

I refused to acknowledge the latter statement—she was absolutely worthy of anyone's full attention, but I doubted I could convince her otherwise, and anyway, that was a job for another time. "You survived that day, it's true, but you're not as okay as you seem."

She regarded me for a long moment, assessing. I didn't know what she was looking for or if she was looking for anything at all. Her face betrayed nothing, so whether or not she found what she sought I would never know.

"I'm better than the others," she said placidly, and it genuinely surprised me that Bella hadn't categorically denied it. I wondered if her candor meant she was beginning to trust me a little more. That possibility thrilled me to no end.

"Better but not okay," I professed, calm and absolute. There was no arguing with the truth of my assertion because there was none to be had.

"Okay is relative," she declared just as calmly, meeting my eyes evenly, and folding her hands together and resting them on the table top.

"Everything is relative," I countered. "But there's also fact and fiction. You are not okay… that's fact."

"I'm as okay as I can be," she told me. "I don't know how to make things better. The only thing I can really think to do is help where I can."

"It's not your job to help. It's your job to heal," I said firmly. The whole point behind this visit was to ensure that she got any help she needed and I had every intention of telling her that I would give her whatever and whoever I could to make sure she recovered as well and as quickly as possible.

Bella's gaze went shrewd again, and before I could say a word, she said, "And how are you doing with that?"

I would have snorted rather unattractively if it would have added anything to the conversation, as it was it was unproductive. I should have predicted she would find some way to deflect and turn things back on me. I smiled again.

"I hold my wife close and take comfort in her when I can, I do my best to find joy in the little things that are often taken for granted, joy for all the things that were almost taken from me and yet were not. I accept that the world is not always pretty, not simple or fair or tidy or kind, but that I can still exist in it and find things to love and be grateful for, and despite the events of that day, one thing has not changed even though my family and I nearly died—I still love and am grateful for Jasper and always will be. Also, I'm building a house," I said, that last mention an attempt at being a bit cheeky.

I would have told her that helping to heal people as a doctor aided in my own healing, but that would make my argument null and void and she would most definitely exploit that.

"I'll see about getting myself a wife to hold close," she deadpanned.

Maybe you should see about getting yourself a Jasper, I thought unbidden, and I found I rather liked the idea of that.

"It means a lot that you care enough to be here, asking me how I am," she continued, serious this time. "But you can't help me. I'll heal. I always do. I'll be as good as new in no time at all."

I could help you if you let me, I didn't say.

"You don't have to do it alone," I reminded her. "This is me offering you a hand should you need it…in case you were wondering."

"If I find myself in need of one, yours will be the first one I'll look to."

I couldn't tell if she really meant it. I would have liked to believe she did, but there was no telling whether or not her pride would let her.

"What happened earlier, Bella?" I asked. It would be remiss of me not to.

I was half-expecting her to play dumb but she didn't. Instead, she discreetly motioned to the group of young men she had been serving when her behavior turned odd. "One of those guys reminded me of someone I used to know. He wasn't a good guy, and we didn't get along. I never thought I'd see him again but for a split second, when I looked at that guy over there, he was right there in vivid technicolor. It caught me off guard so I got distracted and spaced out, kind of went on autopilot for a bit."

I had to fight the urge to ask who this man that she used to know was to her and what he had done to have her reacting in such a negative way at merely the suggestion of his presence, but I knew without a doubt that my asking wouldn't be appreciated. Perhaps I could get away with it if I wasn't specific. "You knew him...before?"

Bella didn't reply, only gave an uncomfortable proximation of a smile, and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Bella," I said, quietly and hopefully soothing. When she brought her gaze to mine, her expression was curiously blank. "Do I need to find this man and murder him for you?"

Her features lightened a few degrees, a tiny bit of levity sneaking onto her face and laughter brightening her eyes. There was no surprise there, however; she clearly remembered the lengths I had been willing to go to for her after the whole Gavin Nichols situation. "What makes you think I haven't already?"

I raised an expectant brow at her. Her lips twitched up for just a second before she sobered. "Don't worry about it, Carlisle. It was just normal stuff, survival stuff. You know...food, shelter, clothes, a little light assault…"

She meant for me to laugh but I didn't. It might have been what she needed—to make it a joke—but I couldn't find it in myself to make light of it.

Beyond that, I found that I could relate to her when she talked about "survival stuff". I'd had to build myself up from nothing after I became a vampire. Surviving day to day as a human or a vampire was no easy feat. One had to rise up each day and do what was necessary to keep existing, having to do things one never thought one would ever have to do for the purpose of keeping a roof over one's head, clothes on one's back, food in one's belly. Having to do it day in and day out was a difficult and exhausting existence. For the first few months of my life, before I figured out that I could substitute animal blood in place of human, I had had to worry about how I was going to feed myself, what, where, when, how. I knew how hard that was, what it felt like to starve. I hadn't had to worry about shelter as much as she must have because vampires didn't necessarily need it. The clothing had been trickier to come by, and I'd had to do some things I wasn't proud of but couldn't avoid if I didn't want to walk around naked which would have assuredly brought undue attention upon me and what I was.

Another thing I suspected we had in common was that we had done all of it alone. I hadn't had a true companion until Edward in 1918, that was 253 years lived alone. That life, that day to day exhausting life of simply surviving and nothing else, was made so much more daunting when one had nothing and no one. Eventually, I graduated from nothing and no one to having a life with more to it than mere surviving but still with no one to share it with. All I could do was guess again, but I didn't believe Bella had had anyone to rely on in a long time. No matter if I was wrong, that was no longer true—she had us now. She could live a life that wasn't just about survival anymore. She could want for nothing if she wished it; all she had to do was ask. She could thrive...but she chose not to. She remained fiercely independent and relied on us very little, whether with material things or affection.

I supposed that we could have different definitions of the concept. It was likely that in her opinion, she was thriving. It wasn't fair of me to make the assumption that she needed those things for her to live her life to its fullest. Maybe she had no use for material things, but surely she needed affection? Money was not a requirement for love, and if she didn't want our money that was fine, but why wouldn't she want love? Especially since she had many that were so eager to give it. How could I convince her to let us love her, to take care of her?

The past several weeks certainly wouldn't do wonders in convincing her to give us a real chance at joining our family. Currently, our family was splintered, but we wouldn't stay that way, and didn't I have to try anyway?

First and foremost though, I had to make sure she was okay. Her well-being was at the top of my priority list even if I had waited a few weeks for this conversation. I had just had to be 100% confident that my instincts in regard to her were correct. If I approached her before I was certain, then all of this would go badly and I needed for this to go well. Just because it was going well now—almost too well—didn't mean it would continue to go well. No matter the outcome, she needed to know I cared.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to make my concern as transparent as I was able.

Bella smiled at me. "It was just for a couple of minutes, Carlisle. I'm fine now. I'll be even better once those guys leave."

After a painstaking study of her, nothing indicated that she was telling anything other than the truth. There was a large part of me that believed it but there was another miniscule piece that doubted.

"You know what else would make me feel better?" she asked, a hint of playfulness quirking up the corners of her eyes and mouth. I smiled and signaled for her to continue. "Pie."

"Don't you already get free pie?" I inquired, amused.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Yes, I do, buuttt…" she said, dragging out the 'but' for several syllables and attempting to look up at me with innocent eyes and a diminutive pout. And even though I knew she was blatantly manipulating me, those innocent eyes and pout worked like a charm anyway. I would do absolutely anything she asked of me. "...I've already had my allotted slice for the day."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Then by all means, pick what you want and put it on my tab."

Bella smiled, wide and real, before sliding out of her side of the booth and making her way toward me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, and I did my best not to gasp in surprise. Bella rarely touched anyone, I suspected so that she wouldn't open herself up to being touched in return. I wanted to reach up and cover her hand with my own, to squeeze back but I didn't.

"Thank you," she said, her voice genuine, and I wondered if she was thanking me for more than just the pie.

She lingered at my table as I slid out of my own seat and I took an opportunity I hadn't expected to be presented with this evening, but I had made a promise to myself in regard to her—I had to try harder to show her how much she was adored and that she could rely on me to take care of her if she would only consent to it.

"Bella?" When she looked over at me, I took my chance. "I love you."

When I said it, I hadn't known what to expect as far as what her reaction might be and I studied her closely, analyzing every microexpression that crossed her features. Her initial expression was one of confusion with furrowed brows and a downturned mouth, her eyes straying off into the distance. I wondered what it was she was seeing in her mind's eye in that moment while simultaneously concluding that what I'd been hoping for—her acceptance, maybe even her joy—would not become a reality. In the end, my hopes were not what mattered, merely that I had clearly communicated to her just how much I cared. Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing if she had truly heard me, that she had let those few words penetrate enough that she could bring herself to internalize, trust, and believe that they were true. At any rate, none of that could be forced or placed on a set timetable, so I would have to leave her to her thoughts. I could no longer take up her time anyway since she was due to go back to work. I began to reach out to her, then halted myself at the last second, my fingers tightening as if they had indeed curled around her bicep and squeezed in reassurance. I didn't know if Bella noticed; she was still somewhere else very like she had been earlier after her encounter with the college boys. It was with an ache deep in my heart that I left her there, hoping she wasn't lost to herself for long.

I was in the process of opening my car door when I heard it, a very faint, very uncertain, "I love you too."

My lips bloomed into a full smile, whole body light with her confession, but I didn't delay with getting into the car and setting about driving home.

Buoyed by my happiness, I couldn't keep my mind from racing through all of the possibilities Bella's love for me could open up. If she loved me, then surely it meant she could also love some of the others. If that were true, then it could be possible that she might want to keep us just as much as we all wanted to keep her. At the thought of keeping her, I couldn't help but think of her and Jasper. She had a place in our family regardless of what the two of them were to each other, but it didn't keep me from contemplating how differently but seamlessly she could fit into our family in her role as his mate if it were true. Because as the weeks since Jasper left marched on, I became more and more certain of my theory that they were indeed mates—it was the only thing that made sense, and the idea of it filled me with such joy.

However, I still did have my concerns over it just as I had told my Esme.

Her concern over Bella's young age was not one I shared. Bella was not the child I had once declared her as even if the year on her birth certificate claimed otherwise. Whatever she had been through in her life before she met us, it had stripped her of the innocence that should have come along with her youth. She had shadows in her eyes that shouldn't be there in one so young, but no matter how sad I was for her, I couldn't deny that that was what Jasper needed. A mate who had not seen some hardship in their life wouldn't be able to understand and empathize with him. In short, as crass as it may seem to say it like this, they could not handle him. It wasn't that he was difficult, that wasn't it at all, but he had a particular and unique brand of sass that wasn't for everyone. There was a hardness to him that could be hidden by his lazy Southern charm when he chose, but he could never quite dispel it from his eyes, and no one could ever mistake him as harmless. Not to mention how aggressively he tried to keep everyone at arm's length. He needed someone just as stubborn as he was and Bella was certainly that, but that was also a problem. While some aspects of their relationship could benefit from that mutual character trait, stubborn plus stubborn wasn't always a good thing in other aspects of it.

Then there was the issue of vulnerability. Both Jasper and Bella were absolutely terrified of showing what they considered weakness—they each had an unparalleled instinct to protect themselves at all costs—and healthy relationships relied heavily on honesty and the complete sharing of oneself. That didn't have to happen immediately, of course, but given their history of keeping their secrets shut up tight against themselves, I saw it being much like pulling teeth to get them to relinquish their control and let go at all. Neither of them trusted easily enough to make that process painless. They had time to learn though, so it was not an obstacle that couldn't be overcome if they gave themselves a chance at it.

However, there could be so much good that could come of them as a couple. While Bella and Jasper were intensely protective of themselves, they were also fiercely protective of others, and I could visualize them being protective of each other with little effort. Bella was already exhibiting that protectiveness toward Jasper after the fiasco with Savannah and the God of War, not shy in letting anyone know that she supported him fully, and I knew without a doubt that Jasper would do the same.

Then there was the issue of the two of them being vehemently self-reliant. Taking two people who were so staunchly independent and throwing them into a relationship that was quite literally forever, in which it is paramount for both parties to rely on each other in order to perform as a healthy, high-functioning unit would result in many bumps and bruises along the way. Again, not something that couldn't be muddled through. And wouldn't it be so beautiful for them both to know that they had that one person, outside of themselves, that they could fully rely on? Someone who would always put them first? Neither of them had that, though Peter's role in Jasper's life came close. It would do both Bella and Jasper so much good to know they had each other's backs first and foremost.

Of course, there was also Jasper's resolute insistence over the decades that he didn't want or need a mate, which made more sense now that we'd seen the fake bond with Savannah. I worried that his most recent experience with mating would further sully his opinion on the matter, making him that much more resistant to the idea and really it was no longer merely an idea—it was now reality. How did you convince a man so adamantly opposed to something that that something was actually in his best interest, that it would be good for him in the long run? The fact of the matter was that no one but Bella could do that. That he was already in love with her would help immensely, and while it might take some time and enormous effort, I believed that his mind could be changed. That all depended on Bella's opinion on mates, however, and I had no idea what that opinion was.

None of those things were what truly concerned me though. Both Bella and Jasper were so similar and had an inner fire that burned so bright no one could miss it. That was a good thing individually, but I'd seen relationships between people like that fail. I was afraid that if they were together the fire between them could burn so hot and intense that it would quickly flare out after consuming them whole and then leave one or both of them with nothing but ashes. But that didn't mean all of those relationships were destined to end. Sometimes those flames never extinguished and instead thrived and fed on themselves, keeping the fire alive and healthy for the duration. Despite my worry, I had to believe that they were the latter. If they were mates, there was no question of that. Mates were a product of Fate as much as biology, and Fate was never wrong.

oOo

Monday, January 25th, 2081

BPOV

Carlisle had watched me for nearly two hours during my shift before I had taken my dinner break with him. I had been expecting this sooner or later, to be honest, but his delay in approaching me over the state of my well-being after The Incident had given me time to prepare for our inevitable confrontation. That meant I'd been able to contemplate as many of the questions he might ask as I could think of and then plan the responses I would give in return, and I felt confident that I would be able to smoothly handle any direction in which he might take us. I knew when he finally confronted me, he would want our conversation to be private, and he wouldn't ask me to come to his office at the hospital because he knew I would refuse on principle. I had brainstormed potential alternative possibilities, and the diner was obviously one of them, so yeah... I wasn't surprised at all. I even figured he would bank on Leah and Paul's absence for the same reason he wouldn't approach me at home. The only thing that had surprised me about his presence at my place of work was the length of his stay. The Cullens' ultimate goal in regard to humans was to keep their true nature under the radar, but sitting in that booth for 120 minutes while glacially nursing two bowls of soup and a couple of glasses of water was the opposite of trying not to draw attention to himself. It was a good thing he had been seated in my section.

I had to admit that Carlisle's subtle but prolonged study of my every move was a bit unnerving but also to be expected considering his reasons for being there. I carried on working as if he hadn't been there, acting like nothing was wrong, neither with me in general nor my work ethic specifically. I had to be beyond reproach, especially since the pain in my chest and torso had now spread to my arms. It wasn't unbearable. It was an annoyance, but it was easily ignorable and didn't affect my ability to work so I carried on as such. So of course, although I was working with just as much finesse and competence as usual, I had to go and dissociate in front of him, and it was all because of one stupid, cocky, bratty college boy.

Despite the military-style jacket, cargo pants, and boots, the guy wasn't a soldier. The way he carried himself was all wrong—he lacked discipline both in body and demeanor, and his eyes weren't haunted, though that didn't necessarily prove anything, just that he'd never seen combat. He didn't pick a table that had good sightlines or ensured his back was to the wall for greater defensibility, his hands were too soft, his hair wasn't regulation, he had no dog tags, and while his boots could technically be considered combat they were only that in style, favoring fashion over function. He also had no weapons on him, not even any that could be disguised as something else, and there were none of the subtle alterations in his clothing that indicated the almost certain presence of holsters and sheaths for concealed knives or guns. No, this guy was definitely not a soldier; he was an overgrown child playing at it.

He may not have been a soldier but he must have either known one or done some research because he tried to speak like one, finding flimsy excuses to awkwardly throw military slang into his conversation with his friends. Those were words I was very familiar with, the language of my childhood, and I'd had to train myself out of using them when I escaped Fort Ares. All it took was one word and I was gone. One minute I was taking the guys' orders and the next I was standing at the order window with absolutely no memory of the time in between. It was easy enough to tell that the time that had passed was insignificant and I managed to salvage my composure relatively quickly, picking up the thread of conversation between Joe, who was the cook, and me with little effort.

My behavior must have been normal enough because no one gave me funny looks or stopped to ask me if anything was wrong, but Carlisle was a different story. With the way he'd been watching me, not just for the last two hours but the last three weeks, he would have noticed and he would ask, so I split my attention during the time between my episode and my dinner break coming up with an explanation for what happened. I didn't want to lie to him but I couldn't tell him the truth either, so I settled on something in between—I would tell him a truth but not the whole truth. It was the best I could do. The question then became whether or not Carlisle would buy it. While I was an exceptional liar, Carlisle was very much not stupid, and he'd been around the block more than a few times. He'd met countless people over his centuries of life, had experienced all manner of personalities and behaviors, not to mention he had a Ph.D. in psychology. It was a given that I was not the only phenomenal liar he'd ever encountered. The good thing was that he left himself open, rarely concealing his thoughts and emotions from broadcasting all over his face when he was with family. That was good; it meant I would be able to tell whether or not my lies landed the way they were supposed to or if he could smell the untruths like a shark scenting chum in the water. If I failed to pick up on even one small detail, I could make a fatal mistake that would ruin everything. Needless to say, I wasn't as confident as I usually was when it came to that part of our conversation.

It went better than I expected it to. Carlisle had accepted easily enough that it was just a lapse caused by the memory of an old acquaintance. While it was very clear he knew there was more to the story that I wasn't telling and that he would have liked to know more, he didn't push which was classic Carlisle, and I was very thankful for the person he was.

He was sympathetic to my excuse, and it was a relief to know that the truth I had chosen to tell him seemed to hit home. Despite that this particular subject matter had taken us in an unforeseen direction that I hadn't prepared myself for, it wasn't the part of our conversation that really threw me off-guard.

The blood wasn't too much of an issue beyond the discomfort it caused the Cullens. It hadn't actually been a bloody nose; it had been my ear that was bleeding but Carlisle didn't need to know that. It had happened before all of this which meant it wasn't connected to whatever was going on with my wayward body, which I knew wasn't anything serious because if it was Carlisle would have come to me before now. I suspected the bleeding might have something to do with the persistent and vivid nightmares I'd been plagued by lately since I had woken up from one to find blood on my pillowcase. I was tortured by them both while I was asleep and awake. Two out of the three days of the week I slept were tormented by them—the third of those days' dreams belonged solely to Jasper, some of which were pleasant and the rest not. If I told the truth, Carlisle would worry and that was pointless. It wasn't within his ability to make the nightmares stop, so why would I bother him with it? It's not like I hadn't been dealing with them for years now, so it was worse right now; I could handle it, unpleasant though it was.

That was the lead-in to what caught me off guard though, wasn't it? Carlisle knew too much. He'd been there in Louisville, saving my life and taking notice of some of the anomalies in my body as he did so. He knew that even with his help I should be dead, and he had reminded me of that fact—something I had not forgotten but pushed to the back of my mind in the wake of The Incident. That had been a mistake. For the first time, I saw Carlisle Cullen, with his knowing eyes and "I love yous", for what he was...dangerous.

Of everyone present in Forks right now, he was the greatest threat to me; he couldn't steal that title from Jasper, whom I missed so deeply it often drove me to distraction, but he had the most pieces of the puzzle that was my existence thanks to our time in Louisville. He had been watching me like a hawk for the past few weeks, for the whole of my time here, and would continue to do so, taking in this little encounter and adjusting the lens through which he observed my every move to match the context. I had to be so much more than careful around him now. I had to be perfect. I couldn't give him any more of the puzzle.

oOo

Friday, January 29th, 2081

It had been over a week since I'd eavesdropped on Rosalie and Emmett and I hadn't stopped trying to figure out how to reassure him that the fact that I had stood by Jasper didn't mean I didn't care about him. Thankfully, I now had an idea for where our potential conversation could take place if everything went to plan. As for how I would convince him of the truth, well, that was still up in the air. Part of me thought I should prepare a speech just to make sure I didn't leave anything I wanted to say out. Another part thought it might be best to wing it, speak from the heart if I could manage it. It was disconcerting not to have a clear strategy. I'd had one for my conversation with Carlisle but this was totally different… this was Emmett, and his threat level to me wasn't nearly as high as Carlisle's was. I could be a little more lax with him which meant that I didn't have to have a plan. I didn't want to have a plan. All I wanted was for things to be okay between Emmett and me; that was the most important thing. Plus, if things with the two of us were put to rights I imagined that my relationship with Rosalie would soon follow.

Now I just had to persuade Emmett to spend a little time with me one-on-one and that was going to take some doing.

It was just after eight in the morning and he and Rosalie were sitting on the covered porch of their trailer, just existing together. Emmett was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together and looking over at his mate. Rosalie had one leg folded up underneath her and the other hanging straight and loose and was looking into Emmett's eyes. Her hand was on his shoulder.

I approached with caution but was sure to stand tall, observing them closely and picturing all the ways this could go:

Emmett welcoming me with open arms...unlikely.

Emmett pretending I didn't exist...likely.

Emmett telling me to fuck off...very likely.

The two of them turned their gazes on me as soon as it was obvious I was coming to them and nowhere else. Emmett only cast me a cursory glance before looking anywhere but at me. Rosalie, however, wouldn't look anywhere else. She must have been practicing her dead-eyed stare because it was unnerving as fuck. She gave nothing of what she was thinking away until I reached about five feet from where they were sitting. After that, for every inch I advanced, her stare gained a new level of intensity but not much in the way of distinct emotion. By the time I stopped before them, my skin was itching in the wake of her eyes on me. It was decidedly uncomfortable. While Rosalie refused to tear her gaze from me, Emmett refused to look at me entirely.

So...option number two it is then.

Things weren't supposed to be like this between Emmett and me, and for a moment, I questioned whether or not all of this was worth it.

Yes, a voice in my mind confirmed. Jasper is worth it.

I just hated that the cost of expressing my loyalty to him was at Emmett's expense, but if things went the way I hoped they would that would change in a few hours' time.

"Rosalie," I greeted, giving her a brief nod. Her expression was neutral and remained that way even as she greeted me back. Then I turned to him. "Emmett."

There was every chance that he wouldn't answer me. As far as I could tell, Emmett still wasn't really talking except for the odd word to Rose now and then, but I supposed I didn't necessarily need him to talk to me. I just needed to convince him to listen.

I stood there and watched him, waiting patiently for what he would do next. After thirty seconds, he finally sighed and met my eyes.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asked wearily, his expression slightly suspicious.

That stung.

"We haven't hung out in a while," I replied, giving him my best smile. "I miss you, and I'm hoping we might be able to spend some time together today."

Several complicated emotions flitted over his attractive features at my request and he diverted his eyes to his mate as if asking for her advice. If Rosalie gave it to him, it was through some silent secret code they shared between the two of them that I didn't have a cipher to. After a few long moments, he looked back at me.

"Okay," he agreed finally, less than enthusiastic and more resigned.

That stung too.

Despite that, my smile remained genuine—I was one step closer to my goal.

Emmett stood from his seat and made his way back into their trailer immediately, appearing at its front door in a flash. I traversed the steps between us as quickly as I dared and he fell into step beside me within a beat. I led us to my car without anything further being said. Emmett climbed into the passenger seat as soon as the doors unlocked and didn't ask where we were going or how long we would be gone.

I drove to Port Angeles at only five miles over the speed limit for two reasons. The first was because I couldn't afford to get pulled over, which was a no brainer anyway but was especially necessary since I was pushing it for staying in one place for so long. The second was to give myself every possible second I could for opportunities to start a conversation between us. Emmett didn't offer any.

The drive was silent and a little awkward, for me, at least. Emmett didn't seem to care, which made me care all the more...and so the silence and awkwardness continued on for the whole of our trip. It rattled my nerves and made it more difficult for me to picture the outing I had planned going even remotely well. It didn't truly matter though; either way, I was fully committed.

The place I took Emmett was a newer-looking storefront in downtown Port Angeles, the updates to its exterior not even remotely matching the older surrounding structures. Essentially, it stood out like a sore thumb but that worked in its favor, drawing the eye of anyone who bothered to drive past the dated strip mall like a beacon. Certainly, every diehard geek in many Washington State counties knew of its existence thanks to its ancient classic movie namesake. It was frequented often enough that the gaming spot was successful even though it had only recently opened. Flynn's Arcade wasn't an arcade in the sense that it was anything like the earliest form of one that came from however many decades ago. It was actually rooted in antique first-person shooter games and MMORPGs, some of which were the grandfathers of current popular games. It boasted tech that was as top of the line as a smallish business in a smallish town could afford.

When I had come to a full stop in a parking place directly in front of Flynn's Arcade we just sat there, Emmett staring dubiously at the game-themed art-covered windows for a long time.

"I've been wanting to come here," he said finally.

"I know," I replied.

"Why did you bring me here, Bella?" he asked, not quite curious and definitely still a little suspicious.

"Because I thought it was time to change the fact that you haven't been here yet," I told him.

"Okay, but why me?" he asked again.

I sighed. Emmett was going to make me work hard for this. I would probably have to fight tooth and nail for every millimeter of progress between us.

"You've been through a lot lately and I want to see you smile again," I responded.

"All of us have been through a lot lately," he reminded me.

"That's true," I conceded.

"So…why me?" he reiterated pointedly.

"Because I'm your little sister…" I said simply, hoping those few words still held enough meaning to him to sway his determination to be angry with me, "and you're my big brother, and my relationships with the others are totally different. I don't know how to help everyone anyway. All I want is to see you smile again, so I got to thinking about it and I remembered you saying you wanted to come here. I know it's just a little thing, bringing you here, but I thought this might help you. Even if it only makes you smile for a little bit, I thought it was worth a shot. It's fine if I'm wrong. We can go if you want."

Emmett didn't respond with words in that moment—he simply got out of the car, moved toward the entrance, and turned to look at me expectantly with the tiniest smirk on his face that I'd ever seen on anyone. By Emmett standards, he may as well have been expressionless for how small it was but I would take what I could get.

I practically stumbled all over myself trying to get out of the car, and while Emmett didn't snicker and his expression didn't change, his eyes were laughing. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face in response to those laughing eyes. It only lasted for a precious few seconds before he regained his somber air and the unreadable glint in his eyes but it was better than nothing. It meant I could still affect him—he wasn't apathetic, which was something I had been genuinely worried about. It meant I could still earn his forgiveness.

Walking through the door and into Flynn's was an experience. The second we crossed the threshold we were immersed in the world that had birthed our current gaming culture. It was retro but classy, and like walking into a picture of an early 21st-century kickass comic con, and Emmett's face was lit up with fond nostalgia at the sight of it all.

Flynn's wasn't the only antique gaming spot. In fact, as of late, antique gaming spots were almost as popular as modern ones. They were all over the country, with more opening all the time, and every one of them was connected to each other. It meant that anyone who came in to play could play with gamers from all over. It meant that all of the computer banks boasting early versions of games like World of Warcraft, Raid, and Skyforge could be played as they had been intended to be played, though on a smaller scale; that the huge TVs connected to old school modified X-Box One X consoles could be used to play early versions of games like Overwatch and Call of Duty. Places like this were a good option for people who couldn't afford modern gaming systems, and the popularity of shops like this proved it.

As for Emmett, who was very excited and trying very hard to hide that fact, his game of choice was Overwatch, so I got the money side of things taken care of in short order. After that, we sat on one of the comfortable couches in front of one of the TVs while Emmett schooled me in Overwatch. He gave me a detailed but brief description, battle bio, and history of every character and their roles in the game as well as the lore behind the game itself.

Emmett ended up choosing Mercy and when I asked why, purely out of curiosity over a choice I didn't expect, he said, with a totally straight face, that it was because she could resurrect people from death.

"That's a little on the nose," I told him with a laugh. That tiniest of tiny smirks curled Emmett's lips again, and he shrugged.

My choice was Echo, who was an evolutionary robot programmed with a rapidly adapting artificial intelligence, versatile enough to fill multiple battlefield combat roles. In a way, it was also a little on the nose for me too, but I couldn't resist making a little private joke with myself.

Emmett and I teamed up, taking up two of the allotted six spots on a team and joining forces with the remaining four people from different locations in the country. Emmett, of course, was the shining star of our team with his vampire reflexes and crystal clear recollection and muscle memory from the hours upon hours he'd played the game back when it first came out decades ago. I didn't do half bad myself, but I was less invested in winning than I was in getting Emmett's and my relationship back on track, and I still had to pretend I couldn't pick things up as quickly as I actually could. After a while, as though he couldn't help himself, he began giving me tips and praising me when I did something he deemed particularly badass.

We played for four consecutive hours, mostly because no one had any interest in kicking Emmett out of his spot, preferring instead to watch him play since he was solely responsible for our team's undefeated record by keeping otherwise mediocre players—at least compared to him—alive long enough to win every time. By the time those four hours were up, Emmett exuded a self-satisfaction that would have appeared douchey and arrogant on anyone else. On him, it managed only to make the cheeky grin on his face, with his neverending dimples, nothing short of cute.

After a quick trip to the refreshment counter, he and I settled at an unsurprisingly uncomfortable, red vinyl upholstered booth with slices of extra-greasy pizza sitting before us on the Formica table. I studied him as I forced myself to eat—my nausea had only gotten worse. I tried to discern just how much Emmett's and my hours of gaming had softened him up and whether or not any progress had been made. Even though he had his nose buried in his phone, rapid-fire texting back and forth probably with Rosalie, I could tell he knew I was watching him from the tension in his shoulders and the uncomfortable way he held himself. When I was finished with my food, I slid Emmett's pizza across the table into my own hands, eating it with exaggerated slowness despite my nausea, mostly to give myself more time to mull everything over and prepare myself for what was to come next, but also because I had to. I was starting to lose weight because I couldn't manage to consume the insane number of calories I needed to function at an optimal level; hell, I already wasn't eating enough for that simply because consuming that many calories without gaining weight would be more than a little suspicious, especially to Carlisle's practiced doctor's eye, but I had been consuming just enough to maintain my body weight and keep myself battle-ready since I'd escaped Fort Ares until I started living with the Cullens. At any rate, if the lack of eating didn't stop and I continued to drop weight, they would start to notice, if they hadn't already.

When there was a longer than usual pause in response to one of his texts, I took it as an opportunity to move things along, so I cleared my throat. "Emmett."

He put his phone on the table and looked up slowly, meeting my eyes hesitantly. We stared at each other for a moment before he lifted a lazy eyebrow in question.

"I had another reason for bringing you here," I said, faking confidence.

Emmett dropped his gaze from mine, letting out a gusty sigh and refusing to look at me again; it seemed that all the progress I'd made with him dissolved before my eyes at those eight words. He clenched his jaw tight enough to crack teeth, refusing to speak for a good long while. "What?" he forced out eventually.

"I have recently realized that my standing by Jasper's side that day and my continued defense of him since might come across as if I don't care about what happened to anyone else. Maybe even that I don't care about anyone else at all. It's not what I intended."

Emmett didn't respond to the first part but he did to the second. "What did you intend?"

"Just to show Jasper that someone was on his side, but that never meant that I was just on his side," I replied.

"That is exactly how it came across," he confirmed, "and it hurt, Bella. It really hurt. He had literally just ripped all of us to pieces, he could've hurt you, so why would you do it? And why risk your relationships with all of us after the fact?"

"He didn't hurt me," I said. "I just looked at him and saw someone who was lost and in pain, not only that but someone who was about to lose everything. All of you were looking at him like he was this stranger, this person that was just out to hurt you, like you didn't know him at all."

"To be fair, we didn't know that side of him," Emmett told me. "And it's funny, really, because I always wanted to meet him. Joke's on me, I guess."

"I know he hurt you and you've got to know he's sorry for that," I said. "I'm sorry for that… but the Jasper I know would never choose to hurt you. That Jasper loves you."

"I know," he said. "I was fucked up. Being angry with Jasper was a mistake that I will be ashamed of for a very long time. For the record, I'm not mad at him anymore. I understand as well as I can with the information I have, which isn't much, but it's enough. Enough to know I can't ever judge him, enough to realize that even though I was wrongfully angry, I will never stop loving him and seeing him as my brother, even if what happened scares the hell out of me. What I don't understand is you."

I cocked my head to the side, waiting.

"Peter and Charlotte were on his side," Emmett began by pointing out.

"Of course they were," I agreed. "But they weren't looking at him like he was just Jasper, they were looking at him like he needed to be handled."

"Have you ever thought that they were looking at him like that because that's what he needed at the time?" he asked.

I smiled ruefully. No one liked to be handled whether they needed it or not. "Maybe so, but he still needed someone to look at him like he was still him, to stand at his side in spite of it all. He needed that support and no one else was going to give that to him...nevermind that I wasn't there for everything that went down."

"Okay, but for a good chunk of the time you've been here, you treated Jasper like shit. I know you guys have been trying to patch things up between you, which is great, but you've never been close, and now, all of a sudden, you're offering him all this support as though you've been the best of friends all along. That's what I don't get," Emmett mused.

"What's not to get?" I asked.

Emmett sighed heavily. "Bella, you still don't like the guy all that much but you're playing the part of his savior. Why?"

"I didn't like him, past tense," I corrected firmly, "but even if that weren't true, I still would have stood by his side. This isn't about like or dislike. It's bigger than that."

"'Sometimes giving people compassion they might not deserve and doing what's right outweighs pride,'" Emmett recited. "'Even if doing it could end badly for you.'"

That sounded very familiar.

"You said that to him," Emmett reminded me. "At the winter formal. Is that what this is about for you?"

I took a minute and really thought about it to make sure my answer was as genuine as possible, for both Emmett's and my sake. "Yes and no. I truly believe what I said to him, I've put it into practice before, but this is different because in his case, Jasper deserves the compassion and my pride doesn't come into play at all. I felt what he felt, just like all of you did, and Peter told me what happened that day was the result of torture."

"He told you that?" Emmett exclaimed, furious. I was kind of annoyed by his overprotectiveness but it was sweet that he wanted to protect me at all, especially from this.

"He didn't have to," I told him. "He tried to talk around it, but it was the obvious conclusion to draw."

We just sat there for a few minutes in heavy silence before I continued. "Jasper was made into something he never wanted to be, Emmett, something he can't control. Have you ever lost control?"

Emmett looked away, frowning, and then he nodded tightly.

"Was there anything you could have done to stop yourself from making a mistake you never would have been tempted to make when you were in your right mind?" I prodded gently.

"Not when I truly lost it," he admitted, and I could tell it cost him.

"Do you think…" I began carefully, hoping I wasn't pushing this too far, "...that if you were to truly lose control that you would still be able to recognize me and keep yourself from hurting me?"

"God, I hope so," he breathed, agonized, "...but I can't say for sure."

"So… isn't it possible that when Jasper lost control he just didn't recognize you for who you are to him and that how much he loves you has nothing to do with the fact that he ripped you apart?"

"It's definitely possible," he finally agreed, his expression thoughtful. "But I guess the real question is why he recognized you when he didn't recognize the rest of us."

"He didn't," I told him truthfully. "I looked into his eyes and there was nothing there, no sign of recognition at all, Emmett. I'm not special. I'm just lucky."

I may have been lying about me being the one to bring Jasper out of whatever state he was in during The Incident, but I wasn't lying about this. Jasper really hadn't recognized me, not even when I first snapped him out of it. I had no idea why he kissed me and I wasn't about to ask, but I did know that.

Emmett eyed me pensively. "Maybe so, but it's still pretty fucking incredible that he didn't kill you."

"The only thing that matters is that he didn't," I stressed.

I expected some sort of argument to that claim but I didn't get one from him. Instead, "I agree. It doesn't really matter why and I don't think we're ever gonna know anyway, so I don't see the point in losing any figurative sleep over it."

I gave him a genuine smile at this proclamation and he smiled back, looking at least a little like his usual cheerful self. It made me beyond happy, but I wasn't done. That was a big hurdle to overcome, but I hadn't finished the job I'd set out to do by bringing Emmett here.

"Emmett," I began, saying his name in a way that I hoped conveyed the seriousness of what I was about to tell him. It was vital that he understood just how important this was. Luckily, it seemed to do the trick because he straightened, squared his shoulders, and leaned forward a little more. "I just want to tell you how much you mean to me. I won't apologize for supporting Jasper, but I swear it doesn't mean I don't love you—"

"You love me?" he interrupted, his expression surprised, hopeful, and vulnerable.

Shit, I hadn't meant to say that. Clearly, Emmett was a bigger threat than I'd thought if I was spitting out familial sentiments without a second thought or any prompting whatsoever. Besides that, it was wrong and not something I should allow myself with anyone, period. But that didn't make it any less true, and I couldn't deny him the answer he needed.

"Yes, I do," I promised him sincerely.

Emmett's whole face lit up at that and his smile went soft and pleased. "I love you too, Bella."

I hadn't really expected to hear that from him, though once he said it I wasn't truly surprised—it was Emmett, big-hearted, loveable goofball that he was. While it didn't surprise me it still caught me off guard. I didn't think I was particularly loveable and never could have thought I'd hear those words from anyone, let alone three people. Though part of me wanted to smile, I also didn't want to show this vulnerability, and I wasn't finished with my purpose, so I tried to gloss over it with earnestness and hope that he didn't pick up on my perceived weakness.

"I just… I care about what happened to all of you," I continued, needing to say this. "Please don't doubt that. I never meant to make anyone feel like I don't care about them. I do. I care so much. I've been wanting to help everyone deal with what happened because I know how traumatized you all must be, but there's not exactly a handbook for handling this kind of thing. I think I'm just making everything worse."

"I don't think you are," he disagreed. "Things went to hell with Alice but that's not specific to you. At that point in time, she would have gone off on anyone who defended Jasper."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," I lamented, "but I'm not sorry. I just never thought things between Alice and I could get so heated and then so frosty in such rapid succession."

"Don't worry about it," Emmett said. "She'll come around and things will be fine."

"If you say so," I said doubtfully. "What about things between us? Will they be fine?"

He just graced me with a tiny smile and nodded. "Things were always going to be good between us, Bella, and things will end up being good between Jasper and me too, no matter what. I just needed a little time to sort my shit out."

The relief I felt at this declaration was palpable but I felt sadness as well. I was inordinately happy to hear that things were now okay between us but I also knew that wouldn't be the case if he knew the truth about me.

"Bella," he said, waiting until I returned my full attention to him, his expression serious. "I just want you to know that even though I was hurt, I still always cared about you. I listened every time Peter or Charlotte asked if you were okay, and Rose would check in with them for me if they asked where I couldn't hear you. After I started talking again, I checked in with them myself, and now that things are good between us...well, now I can ask how you're doing to your face."

"You don't need to ask how I am, Emmett," I told him. "I mean it every time I say I'm fine."

"Are you really though?" he fished, and I thought back to my conversation with Carlisle, who hadn't asked but told me I wasn't fine. I didn't see the point in repeating that experience when it would do no one any good—though Edward would see the inconsistency if Carlisle chose not to keep our meeting at the diner to himself as he had with our time in Louisville, I doubted he would say anything. Edward was nice like that, but it could result in a confrontation between the two of us and that would suck. It would require more lies, and more creative and convincing ones at that.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I replied, choosing to have faith in Carlisle, and trying not to sound tired...tired of people asking how I was doing, tired of feeling like shit, frustrated that how I felt was grating on me when I'd lived through so much worse and still exceeded expectations, missing Jasper so much it was as though a part of me had been ripped out and the wound doused with acid. I didn't like thinking about how much I missed him. It reminded me...well, I didn't like thinking about that either.

His features retained their serious air. "You were there that day too, Bella. Maybe you weren't there for all of it, but that doesn't matter. You still experienced it too."

I let my neck fall to the side and then back, the bones cracking in a way that was part painful and part satisfying, letting my mind go pleasantly blank. When I righted myself, I rubbed my fingers briefly over my phoenix pendant and the letters of Wildfire, the familiarity of the skin-warmed metal grounding me. Then I looked him in the eye and bit my lip as I thought how to answer. Emmett wasn't as good at reading people as Carlisle but he also wasn't stupid. I couldn't play this wrong if I wanted my current life to hold together for just a little longer. I needed for it to hold together. That meant another lie, and the idea of lying to or manipulating Emmett made me feel a little sick to my stomach in a way that had nothing to do with my ever-present nausea. I could still try to tell a little bit of the truth like I had with Carlisle, but that didn't appease my stomach any.

"I did," I acknowledged, "and it sucked. Sifting through your body parts and essentially gluing you guys back together isn't exactly my idea of a good time. I also didn't much enjoy feeling Jasper's cocktail of misery and suffering, but it's different for me than it is for you guys. My relationship with Jasper is different. He doesn't mean to me what he means to you. He's not my family."

Emmett studied me carefully for a moment. I couldn't tell what he was thinking as I sat there under his watchful gaze.

"He could be," he said slowly. "If you wanted that."

Here was an opportunity to tell him a truth. "I don't know what I want. I've never had any idea what he is to me."

"You've always known what he isn't to you though," he reminded me gently.

I grimaced and turned away from him. I couldn't stand to look into his gaze, ancient, knowing, and intense, or bear to see his faint but warm smile. I felt known in a way right then that left me feeling unmoored and reeling, and I hated it. I wanted desperately for it to stop.

"Not your brother," he stated, explicitly this time, and there was no judgment there and no teasing either.

"No," I murmured softly, feeling utterly vulnerable which left me confused and disturbed—I was being a hell of a lot more honest than I ever planned to be, but this was something I couldn't bring myself to lie about. "Not my brother."

We were both silent after that. It would have been comfortable under different circumstances. I was fairly certain it was on his side, him not being privy to my internal conflict. I couldn't keep my mind from spinning in circles so fast I could swear it made me dizzy, but that could have been another symptom of whatever the hell was wrong with me. It didn't really matter what was causing it; all that mattered was that it was really unpleasant. Said dizziness did nothing to keep me from angsting over this clusterfuck of a conversation.

"I want to ask you a question," Emmett said a little while later, after studying me and presumably deciding whether or not asking said question was a good idea. "It's something I've been curious about for a long time, and it would be nice to know."

It was an odd echo of Peter's request for why I came back to the house, but I filed the comparison away for later perusal. Whatever Emmett's question was, I was going to do my best to be honest in an attempt to make up for all of the other lies I was telling, even though I hadn't managed to lie much at all a few minutes ago. He wouldn't know it, but it would make me feel better and more like I was doing my best to reconnect with him, which was the whole point of this little endeavor.

"Okay," I allowed, hoping I wasn't screwing myself over. "Shoot."

"We've already had a conversation about this," he began. "You've said you think Jasper is a good guy, but when I asked you why you're so hard on him, your answer was pretty vague. My question is an expansion on that."

"Okay," I said again, not particularly liking where this was going. I remembered that conversation with crystal clarity, and I didn't much want to revisit it, and I wanted my complicated feelings for Jasper brought up—again—about as much as I wanted to talk about the kiss.

"You didn't start out thinking he's a good guy. In fact, you acted like you hated his guts before he saved you from Tyler Crowley's van. You said it's because he gets inside your head, and I can see why that would make you lash out at him, but it still doesn't make sense to me—the two of you didn't exchange a word when you first met but when you came back to Forks you were gunning for him. You didn't even give him time to get inside your head before you started tearing into him, so… why? I just want to understand."

Oh no. Of course, he had to ask about that. How was I supposed to answer Emmett's question truthfully when it was such a complicated and delicate subject? I hadn't said anything about it for a multitude of reasons and I wasn't the only one—Jasper hadn't said a word about what happened between us in Louisville to anyone either. He obviously didn't want anyone to know, so he might consider telling Emmett as some sort of betrayal, and the last thing I wanted to do was betray his trust. But would he careif I told Emmett just that we'd seen each other? It's not like I had any intention of telling him what happened in that alley. That was probably the part he would take issue with me revealing. Would it really be so bad if Emmett knew a half-truth about Jasper's and my time there? Surely just saying we'd seen each other would be okay. At any rate, it was all I was willing to risk.

"Jasper and I saw each other before I came back to Forks," I divulged cautiously, "and that's all I'm willing to say about it."

I expected follow-up questions to this revelation but none came. Emmett looked at a point over my left shoulder, expression distant as he mulled it over. When he brought his gaze back to me, he said, "Honestly… That's more of an answer than I expected to get."

I shrugged at him, hiding my surprise at his willingness to let it go. He smiled.

"C'mon, let's go play World of Warcraft," he proposed sunnily, expression conveying his excitement at the prospect. "I'll log you onto Jasper's account and teach you how to play whichever toon you pick. Then we'll run some raids together."

I smiled at him in return, getting excited myself.

oOo

APOV

Saturday, January 30th, 2081

I was on the third floor of our new house, a tray of paint by my feet, paint roller in my hand that may as well have been forgotten as I gazed out a front-facing window. I could see Bella from here, sitting outside on her trailer's front steps with her phone in her hand, transfixed by whatever was on its screen. From this angle I could almost see it and would have if not for the silky curtain of her brown hair but I wasn't watching her for the purpose of invading her privacy. I wanted to know how she was doing beyond Peter and Charlotte's inquiries; more than that I wanted to ask her myself, to try to get past that wall she'd erected around herself and whatever happened to her that day, but I couldn't do that because of our fight. I wanted to fix things between us. The problem was that every time I looked at Bella lately I couldn't help but think of Jasper, and thinking of Jasper always sent me hurtling back into the past, both ours together and mine alone. Now wasn't the time for that, but I couldn't seem to escape it and right now was no different...

When I woke up as a vampire, I didn't know much of anything. I didn't know where I was, how I'd gotten there. I didn't know who I was. I did know I was terrified…and utterly alone. I didn't register it at the time but neither of those feelings were unfamiliar. I wore them like a second skin, so tight that I couldn't become any more afraid when I discovered that not only did I not remember even a snippet of my life, I didn't even know my name. I went on like that for I don't even know how long—time having lost all meaning—just wandering and mindless, letting myself drift as my throat burned.

It was a vision that sent me on an odd pursuit to learn my own name. It involved a library, two books—Alice in Wonderland and Dracula—and the unfortunate death of a woman who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Luckily, due to determination, my valuing human life, and enforced inhabitation of the forest, I learned to feed from animals. I never killed another human after that.

I spent the first sixty-two years of my life alone. The first decade and a half was spent mastering my thirst for human blood and the endless practice of pretending to be human. The rest of those decades were spent cautiously integrating into human society as I moved from one city to the next, trying to keep my head down, support myself, and just simply survive from day to day. I did some pretty cool and worthwhile things during those years—the making of uniforms and parachutes for soldiers in WWII in the 40s, working as a seamstress in the costume department of a couple of Broadway shows during the 50s, anonymously entering a couple of fledgling fashion design contests and winning when I started dabbling in it in the 60s, making blankets and warm clothes for veterans returning from the Vietnam War in the 70s—but I never once allowed myself to make any meaningful connections in order to keep myself and others safe; it was desperately lonely.

I also, above all else, avoided other vampires like the plague. My gift warned me when one of my own kind would be passing through and gave me just enough time to leave without making contact—one of my very first visions was of a vampire being executed by another vampire for revealing their existence to humans. It left me feeling cold, shaky, and even more terrified than I already was. Seeing that made me wonder if all vampires were that cruel, and I didn't want to find out. Over the years, I did begin to recognize that, like humans, there were likely both good and bad but I never felt comfortable enough with the idea to test it.

It was January 20th, 1982 that everything changed. My gift had warned me about a small coven of vampires—one woman and three men—getting close to my current city of residence but it didn't save me from them. I'd been dodging them for four days before they eventually cornered me in the woods around Philadelphia. The meeting didn't start off violently, they were more curious than anything. They wouldn't have come after me at all if I hadn't run and they only caught up to me because one of them was a tracker. It did not remain curious, however. They took issue with the color of my eyes and my diet of choice and everything escalated until I was fighting for my life.

My gift helped me survive for the first little while but there were four of them and only one of me. I could only dodge so many blows before I got into very deep trouble. My left arm had been ripped off to the elbow and I had multiple scratches and gouges, all sharply painful. Soon enough, I found myself on my knees before the woman, her hands gripping my head…

And then Jasper Whitlock happened.

He appeared out of nowhere, this avenging angel, beautiful and terrible, absolutely devastating, and I knew deep down in my bones that he was mine. At the time, I made the assumption that he was meant to be my true love, my happily ever after. Love in a different capacity never occurred to me and so was never a consideration. Needless to say, it didn't take much for me to fall helplessly and hopelessly in love with him. I didn't know what mates were then. Jasper taught me a lot about what it means to be a vampire, but he sure as hell never told me that, and considering his past, it made sense now in a way it never had before. I just knew I saw him in my future and took that to mean he was my forever. I was so convinced of that in fact, that I refused to believe my future could lie anywhere else, with anyone else, and I clung to that so tightly that I missed what was right in front of me for entirely too long. I have Jasper to thank for shattering that illusion by breaking things off between us and thus, opening up the possibility for a different future, a future that didn't exclude Jasper from my life but that involved my love for him to evolve into something else. Something that would be better for both of us in the long run, even if it hurt so badly in the then-present.

My reminiscence brought up old feelings of inadequacy, the notion that I would never be worth it to anyone for so many years and the fierce want for that to change, even if it was self-inflicted out of fear. The remembrance of the person I used to be versus the person I was now. The difference was stark; before Jasper I had been so completely the opposite of who I was now—depressed and hopeless to optimistic and joyful. It was like night and day, and I couldn't be more grateful for the transformation, more grateful for Jasper's presence and the proof that kindness, goodness, existed in others of our kind even if he was quiet, intense, serious, and surly.

And then I met the Cullens—Edward—and everything in my life fell into place. I felt complete in a way even Jasper couldn't evoke albeit, it took me a while to realize it. I found a family, a mate—the love of my eternal life—as though it were meant to be. It was. I knew it like I knew the warmth of the sun on my face and the flavor of blood on my tongue.

But Jasper had never found that.

It was true that he had escaped the Southern Vampire Wars but he had never truly come home from it. Not really. Not even when he had a family to come home to. He had never quite left the violence and chaos of it behind him. I didn't understand that before. I didn't fully understand it now. What I did know with certainty was that he had never had a choice. He didn't choose to fight, he didn't choose the abuse he'd suffered, he didn't choose for all of that to shape him into the man he now was, the remnants of his gruesome experiences still clinging to him. He did not choose to become the God of War, then or now. He did not choose to rip his family apart.

I had temporarily lost sight of that. It didn't take much to remind me, to bring me out of the shock of what happened, Edward leading me the rest of the way. I remembered the core of Jasper, the person he truly was and he was an absolutely beautiful person whom I loved dearly.

He may still lack purpose but now there was Bella, who couldn't be his purpose, but who could still help him to find it. He had responded to her in a way I had never seen before. He was in love with her. I had never seen him love before, not in that way. He had never allowed himself to be that vulnerable with anyone, and there had been many opportunities over the years.

After everything that had happened, I suspected that Bella and Jasper could be mates, and if that was true, it made sense that he would fall in love with her.

Bella was a chance for him. She was a reason to really come home from the war. He would always be a soldier but now maybe he could finally see that he wasn't just a soldier. Maybe now he could just see himself as a person, a person who could admit that he wanted things, needed things. He needed her in a way he had never needed me which stung, but it wasn't the same. He and Bella were it for each other, the way Edward was it for me.

I hadn't realized quite how serious it was before the God of War happened. I had known he was in love with her, but I hadn't yet seen what exactly that meant. Even now, the only thing we knew for sure was that Bella had shown up before Peter brought Jasper back down. We didn't know what happened between them, just that something had happened. And until now we hadn't seen the importance of what we had learned over the course of all of our time together—that they could be mates—in part, due to Peter and Charlotte's vehement denial and also the utter black hole that Bella was to my gift. But I saw it now. I was pretty sure everyone in the family could. It was so obvious now that I thought about it.

But that wasn't the issue that mattered first and foremost at the moment. That could be dealt with later, though how much longer it could go without being addressed was uncertain. No, what mattered most right now was fixing things between Bella and me. That was what I could control in this situation—I could apologize, make sure she knew I didn't blame Jasper for what happened, and go from there. And I had to, didn't I? Not just for myself but for Jasper as well. He was my best friend and resolving things with his maybe-mate was the least I could do. I had to offer my support in every single way I could. It meant that I would have to own up to some things I didn't want to own up to. Admitting I was wrong would be both easy and difficult, especially when every little thing was still so tender and raw in the aftermath of that day but I had to do it—for Bella, for myself, and most of all, for Jasper.

That didn't mean I wasn't nervous about approaching Bella.

Since I couldn't see her face I couldn't truly gauge her mood, and even so, I wasn't all that great at reading people without my gift anyway. I was not fluent in all types of body language and what they meant, and Bella was a tough nut to crack regardless. That being said, I couldn't ascertain precisely what it was but she looked innocuous enough, and that was what I needed if I wanted my plan to work.

"It's going to be fine," Edward reassured me through his gift, having abandoned his own paint roller, grabbing me by the shoulders and gently guiding me to face him.

"I wish I had your confidence," I said. "What if she hates me?"

"She doesn't hate you," he replied firmly.

"She doesn't hate me," I echoed, trying to internalize it and convince myself it was true. Did she wonder whether or not I hated her too?

He grinned and reached for my hand, squeezing it in solidarity. "You can do this."

"I can do this," I repeated again. Then I thought of the look on Bella's face as we were screaming at each other, trying desperately not to think about my own expression, and doubted. "I can't do this!"

"Ali, love," he said, the nickname and term of endearment soothing. "Friends, family, fight all the time. They also work through their differences and move on all the time, and in the end, they're still friends, still family, and all the stronger for it. You and Bella are going to be fine but that won't happen until you talk to her."

With that in mind, I laced my fingers with my mate's and began to close the distance between us and her.

She noticed our approach quickly, too quickly for my taste. The closer we got the more her expression morphed from neutral to guarded and I wondered just how high the walls she'd constructed around herself would be by the time we reached her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward give her a "covert" thumbs up. He'd been doing little things like that over the course of the seventeen days since our fight. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, to be honest, but the thing was… Bella needed someone to be there for her just the same as everyone else in the family. We hadn't been very good about making sure she was okay, with the exception of Carlisle and later, Esme. Peter and Charlotte checked in with her constantly but they didn't exactly stick around long enough for heart-to-hearts before they went back to Savannah. I knew Edward checked in with her a lot as well, and those little gestures from him were surely bright spots she probably sorely needed. In that moment, I felt an acute sense of shame that I hadn't been a better friend, even if I had been stuck in a pit of my own trauma and misery and really in no shape to be a friend to anyone at all until now.

When we stopped in front of her I only looked her in the eye for a moment before I decided the ground was infinitely more interesting to study—my nervousness manifesting as hesitation; so much so that I found it hard not only to find but also to physically form the words. The longer we stood there, the more awkward the silence between the three of us became, so awkward things eventually turned painful. It was at that point that Edward nudged me with his elbow. The contact was gentle but firm enough to make me look up at him, dazzling me with an encouraging smile.

"You've got this," he told me again, and it brought a brief, uncertain smile to my lips. It also, as it were, unlocked my power of speech.

I took a deep, fortifying breath that I didn't need but found comforting nonetheless. "Emmett, Edward, and I are going to Port Angeles to pick up some furniture," I announced, still not quite looking at Bella. "We—"

Edward nudged me again.

"I was wondering if you want to come with us."

"Uh…" she hedged, clearly torn. "I guess."

There was another torturous silence. Then Edward prompted, "And..." and nudged me with his elbow a third time.

"And," I continued, exasperated with my mate but tentative with Bella, "do you want to ride with me?"

"Sure," she agreed after a while.

Okay, so the first part of the plan was going relatively well. I got her to agree at any rate, but my nervousness hadn't dissipated any because of it.

We didn't talk on the way to the SUV we would be taking, Edward and Emmett trailing behind us on the way to their own vehicle, but our boots crunched noisily through the frosted grass, the sound of it devastatingly loud in the absence of conversation.

The silence continued throughout at least half the drive, uncomfortable and oppressive. I had no idea where to start, to be honest, but I had to start somewhere.

"So…" I began, trailing off and doing my best not to grimace at how bumbling it sounded.

"So…" Bella echoed.

"You and Emmett are okay now," I picked up with, grasping at straws.

"Yes," she confirmed succinctly.

"Which means that you and Rosalie are okay now," I added.

Rose had gone to Bella after she and Emmett got home from wherever they'd gone the day before, publicly telling her that she had never held her defense of Jasper against her, was actually pretty pleased about it, and had only kept her distance out of respect for Emmett. Rosalie had made sure to let Bella know that she was glad she and Emmett had made things right between them and again extended an offer of friendship to her. Bella was visibly relieved at the end of it, and I was happy for both her and Rosalie—I wanted all of my family to be friends. I wanted all of us to love each other.

"Yes," Bella confirmed.

"So that means you and I are the only ones still fighting," I concluded.

"We only had the one fight, Alice, which hardly constitutes the word 'fighting'," she said succinctly. "We are the only ones who haven't made up though."

"We should probably do something about that," I suggested quietly.

I was really screwing this whole thing up, and I knew it. Could I be any more awkward?

She sighed. "It's not that I don't want us to be okay again, Alice, but I don't want to do anything about it if it's something that Edward made you do. I don't want to be friends if it's some sort of obligation to you."

I inhaled sharply at that. It hurt to hear that she thought Edward would need to make me resolve things between us. Had I really screwed up so badly that she would think I wouldn't want to fix things on my own?

"Edward can't make me do anything, and he would never try," I said adamantly. "I've been wanting to fix things between us, but the longer we went without speaking the harder it became to speak at all."

She nodded, seeming to understand.

"And our friendship is not an obligation to me, it's essential to my well-being," I assured her, hoping I was properly communicating as much sincerity as I felt on the matter.

Bella smiled. It was a tiny smile but it was genuine and I could clearly see relief in that quirk of her lips.

"I really want to fix this, Bella. I miss you," I told her emphatically, focusing my eyes on her instead of the road. "But it isn't just about what I want."

Her expression turned curious at that and here was where I would put another part of my plan into action.

"We need to be friends again because when Jasper gets home we all need to present a united front," I said… Because Jasper was coming home. He hadn't decided to yet so I hadn't seen it—I hadn't seen much of anything he'd been up to these last weeks—but I knew he would. He had to.

"Have you heard from him?" she asked. It was obvious that she was eager to know my answer, but I wasn't sure she meant to show it so baldly.

My expression turned sad and my shoulders slumped. "No. Have you?"

If Jasper was going to contact someone, it would most likely be Peter, but I wanted to double-check just in case. At this point, I was going a little crazy not knowing exactly how Jasper was doing or what he was doing, and I had to cover all my bases.

"No," Bella echoed hollowly. With one hand she rubbed at her chest while she wove the fingers of the other through the chain of her phoenix pendant.

If there was one thing that could be counted on, it was Bella's habit of playing with her necklace, but it rarely revealed what she was thinking or what mood she was in. Then again, as I said before, I was not the best at reading people...my mate was the one who could read minds, after all.

Her rubbing her chest wasn't a new behavior either, and I wondered if she was in pain the way mates typically were when separated, if she always had been and no one had noticed.

"Has Peter?" I asked. If he had, it was a toss-up as to whether or not he would say anything to the rest of us, but if he was going to say anything to anyone after what happened that day, it would be Bella.

"If he has, he hasn't told me," she said, "but I don't think so."

We sat in silence for another few minutes as I continued to drive, wind buffeting the car as I sped along the highway. Abruptly, she stopped rubbing her chest but kept her fingers entangled in her necklace.

"You were right," I said eventually. "It wasn't Jasper's fault, and he didn't abandon us."

He didn't. He didn't…but it was so hard to believe that when, before now, he had never left me, never without a promise to see each other again, never without a goodbye. He had always stayed with me, even when we first met, when I had nothing to offer him beyond the idea of hunting animals instead of humans. I had never had to entertain the idea of losing him and the prospect of that was nearly as unbearable as the possibility of losing Edward.

I had to move past that though. Dwelling on it did me no good, especially when he was coming back.

"It makes sense that he would need time after what happened," I continued on, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "It's good he left. We all needed time to process what happened so we could start to work through all of the pain, anger, confusion, and hurt, to get to a place where we could move on and then be there for him when he comes home. He didn't need to be here for that. It wouldn't have been good for any of us if he'd stayed. I love him and I would never want to add to his pain and suffering, even if I lost sight of all of that for a little while."

That was the truest thing I could say about it, and I hoped she no longer doubted. She had to know how much Jasper meant to me. I had to make that unimpeachably clear.

"You were right too," Bella admitted. She looked vastly uncomfortable as she uttered her next words, but she managed to choke them out anyway. "I don't have a mate, so I can't understand what it must have been like to almost lose that bond, but Alice…" I took my eyes off the road again to meet her gaze, and again pondered her relationship with Jasper, "...you have to know that you can't use your mating bond as a blanket excuse for things, as in flying off the handle and letting your judgment get so clouded that you start hurling unfounded accusations at someone, someone you love, especially when you damn well know better."

It was a truth I already knew and I'd just lost sight of it for a bit in my trauma. Even so, hearing someone say it aloud, reminding me of my horrible lapse and the shame that came with it made it a hard truth to hear. I didn't bother to argue or deny it because while almost losing Edward had been nearly unedurable, would have been if I had lost him for real, I couldn't use that as a justification for my behavior.

"I know," I agreed earnestly.

"You do?" she questioned with deep skepticism that was entirely warranted after everything I had said during our screaming match.

"Yes," I assured her with confidence.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bella smile.

"So are we good?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Yeah," she said.

I caught her gaze again and my lips curved up in a small smile of my own.

I let silence settle in again for the time being, this time peaceful instead of uncomfortable.

"What about love?" I asked, suddenly curious. I shouldn't pry—it was dangerous with Bella—but I felt the need to know, not just for her but for Jasper as well.

"What about it?" she responded.

"How do you feel about it?" I queried.

"I don't feel any particular way about it," Bella said.

"Have you ever been in love?" I continued to pry.

"No," she replied somewhat quickly. I couldn't help but think that it might be telling but I still didn't know Bella quite well enough to be sure.

"Well, you're young. You have lots of time to find someone," I said offhandedly.

Bella didn't say anything to that, so I carried on, undeterred.

"Is it something you want?" I inquired very curiously.

"Not really," she replied. "I don't see the point."

"You don't see the point?" I echoed, miffed.

What does that even mean?

I decided to ignore that because I knew Bella wouldn't elaborate if I prodded at that particular viewpoint.

"You don't wonder what it would feel like?" I questioned carefully while also trying not to sound careful at all. "To be in love?"

"Not really," Bella said. "Why are you so focused on this, Alice?"

"I guess I just thought it might be something you wonder about. I mean, doesn't everyone?"

"I don't need to...it's not something that's in my future," she explained.

I frowned deeply. I couldn't think of a way to ask why without sounding super nosy, but my end of this entire conversation was super nosy, so I decided to keep at it anyway.

"How do you know it's not though?" I asked. "The possibilities for the future are endless. There are plenty of people out there that you could hit it off with, even if you haven't found one yet. You could end up falling in love a million times."

But I think it will only be the once, I thought.

"Anything is possible, I suppose," she admitted, "but it's not something I want."

"But don't you ever dream about your future, even if not love?"

"I don't really do...that," Bella informed me. Her tone was simple but it was said haltingly, like it made her uneasy to talk about it.

"It's okay to dream, you know, about love or your future or otherwise," I promised her. No one had been there to tell me that in those first decades of my life, and I had never dared to, not until Edward.

Bella's only answer was a noncommittal hum that I was sure was only done to appease me. I decided to leave it alone for now. Maybe I'd planted a seed in her. Maybe she would think about it now.

oOo

Sunday, January 31st, 2081

BPOV

Despite the fact that I had made things clear to Paul about the two of us never having a romantic relationship, he hadn't stopped spending a good chunk of his free time at the diner. He still sat in my section and asked questions, still gave Leah and me a full ration of shit when he felt the occasion called for it and still ordered obscene amounts of food in small doses. He took up about as much of my time as he always had and helped to keep me entertained when my shifts got boring and redundant. In fact, in all the ways that mattered Paul was exactly the same except for one major exception—now that he had imprinted on Angela he was no longer an outrageous flirt. It wasn't that he didn't notice other girls, he just paid them no mind, even if they showed any sort of interest in him. He didn't even flirt with me anymore just for fun—that's when I started to figure out just how serious this imprinting thing was. I had known, logically, that it was a life-altering big deal, but to see it in action was an entirely different thing. Seeing Jacob and Leah didn't really count because, to me, they could be lumped together with any other disgustingly in love couple. I hadn't been there to see the shift in their relationship and all the drama that came with it.

The diner was comfortably busy but not a madhouse and it was time for my lunch, so I took a seat opposite Paul in his booth and pushed the hand that held both the plate entirely covered in brightly colored vegetables and cup of always kind of questionable mixed fruit that all restaurants served year 'round and not my supposedly juicy, delicious burger—nothing was appetizing these days—in his direction, edging their way forward through the maze of pie plates that had yet to be cleared away by the busboy.

Paul looked comically offended at the sight of this new addition to the splayed out ceramic ruins of dessert plates he'd created just so on the laminate tabletop, preferring to ogle my burger instead. After more than half a minute, he returned his attention to the plate in front of him.

"What is this?" he asked very slowly as though the slower he spoke, the quicker the offending fruit and greenery would disappear.

A corner of my mouth quirked up at this. "It's a plate of vegetables," I enunciated, though not nearly as slowly as he did. "And a cup of fruit. You know… two necessary food groups. Not even you can live off pie and coffee alone."

He huffed a breath and brought his eyes to the ceiling, probably hoping to figure out a way to struggle through this encounter and still ultimately leave the fruit and vegetables untouched. When he realized that wouldn't work, he studied the aforementioned colorful, healthy food before him. "Where's the dressing?"

Luckily, for me and not for Paul, I was currently laughing on the inside. "I said vegetables, not salad." At this revelation, Paul pouted mightily, bottom lip poked out so far it was in the next county.

I rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a headache and threatened the structural integrity of my ocular muscles, so I went into bargaining mode. "If you eat everything on those plates, which you're getting for free—you're welcome—you can have my two allotted free slices of pie every day for a week. You'll still have to pay for all the other shit you plan to stuff in your mouth while you're here though."

Paul considered my offer for a moment before he held his hand out for a shake over the table. I didn't even take a moment before my hand was in his firm grip and our shake was over.

Slowly and reluctantly, Paul developed a game plan that seemed to involve trying a tiny piece of each individual vegetable and fruit on the plate and in the cup. I nibbled at my burger, staring at him interestedly as I chewed and hoped it was a meal I could consume in its entirety for once and without consequences. He stared back, amused by my undivided attention. Despite his initial reluctance, he cleaned his plate and cup in short order before ordering another three slices of pie. My attention remained unwavering through both the removal of the dreaded healthy plates and the bringing of the sugary dessert. I'd only gotten through half my burger before I could no longer force myself to eat, pushing it across the table to Paul before he broke the silence.

"Now that you're finished chewing, is there something you wanted?" he asked, acknowledging his grateful acceptance of my food and then taking a bite of his fourth slice of pie—pecan this time. I swore he was keeping the diner afloat on his pie orders alone.

"At least I wait until I'm finished chewing to ask my questions," I came back at him.

He just grinned unrepentantly.

"So…" I began, "...how's life post-imprint?"

"Pretty much exactly like life pre-imprint except without the crushing doubt and paralyzing what-ifs," he opined and took another bite of pie.

I grinned back. "I think I know you well enough by now to know that you never considered the what-ifs and you never stopped to doubt for shit."

Paul brought his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. "That is so untrue! I am a deep, self-reflective person with layers who always considers the ramifications of my actions and the purpose of life itself!"

I outright laughed at his dramatics. "It's not that I don't believe you," I said, and then paused for suspenseful effect, "it's just that I don't believe you."

"Oh, is that how it is?" he complained, mock-hurt.

"That's how it is," I confirmed cheekily. "Doesn't mean I don't think you're a good guy."

He smiled again.

"So… how are things with Angela?" I tried again.

He raised an eyebrow. "And Ben?"

I wasn't intending on going there just yet but since Paul had brought it up… "And Ben," I confirmed.

"It's good," he told me. "She's perfect and he's a good guy. They're good together."

He seemed to genuinely mean it, which threw me for a loop, but Leah did say imprinting didn't have to be romantic.

"I assume you've got an opinion about that," he guessed.

It occurred to me then that Paul saw what I said to Leah about not wanting this whole imprinting thing to cause any drama for Angela. I hoped he didn't hold it against me.

"Not so much an opinion as it is curiosity and confusion," I admitted. "I guess I just never expected to hear you say that."

"That I think they're good together?" he guessed again.

I nodded. "You just seem very zen about the fact that she's in a relationship with someone else."

He shrugged. "There's nothing I'm willing to do about it, so why not be zen? Being upset won't change anything."

"But—"

"No buts," he said firmly. "Imprinting isn't about romance and sex. It's a soul bond, and a soul bond exists regardless of whether or not either of those are involved. If I get a shot at that, of course I'm going to take it, but right now is not that time."

"Wow," I said. "This really did change you."

"Not in any way that matters," Paul disagreed.

"So what about you?" I asked.

"What about me?"

"If she's in a relationship, can't you date too?"

Paul smiled, just the tiniest bit rueful. "It would be hard to explain to another girl why I'm more devoted to a friend than I am to her. It wouldn't be fair."

"Yeah, but that's not really fair to you," I said.

"Who said anything about fair?" he countered. I frowned hard at that—I knew very well that life wasn't fair but that didn't mean I had to like it, especially when that unfairness involved someone I cared about. Paul noticed. "It may not be fair but I'm still lucky to have found her. I wouldn't change it."

"It doesn't bother you that you don't have a choice?" I queried.

Paul snorted. "The only choice I've had since I first shifted has been in how to live my life in spite of it. I could have chosen to be resentful, bitter, and angry but what good would that do? It certainly wouldn't change anything, so I just go on being me. Nothing about this situation is perfect, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy, and it's an honor to have the ability to protect my tribe. I'm proud of that and I was never stupid enough to think it wouldn't come with some sacrifices, but she's not one of them."

"Isn't she?" I questioned. I loved Angela and this wasn't her fault but I couldn't see how finding her and not being able to be with her wasn't a sacrifice.

"No. Bella, Angela and I just met," he reminded me. "The imprint drew me to her but it didn't guarantee that I would like her, and I don't like her because she's my imprint. I like her because she's a good, kind person. And when I say that I like her, it's what I truly mean. Like is as far as it extends for now."

He smiled, not looking the least bit bothered. "This isn't some tragic love story because I'm not in love with her, and she's not in love with me, but that doesn't mean I won't fall for her eventually. It's just less likely to happen now, since that option is currently off the table. And as I said before, if that ever becomes an option between us, I sure as hell will take my shot with her, but now is not that time. Regardless, I will be the best damn friend she's ever had. I will show her that she can count on me above all others, that I can and will take care of her, and that I will keep her safe in any and every way I know how."

All the tension in me released at that, a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders. I had been worrying about what would happen to Angela when I left, but now I knew she would be taken care of. She had Paul and a whole pack of wolves to look out for her.

oOo

A/N: Take care, everyone! The next chapter, week 5, will be the last Jasper-less chapter.