.

23. TOGETHER
(THE TRUTH)

Cobblestones. The darkened window of an airplane. A yellow Porsche. And running . . . I was running somewhere, but I couldn't remember where or why.

The dream was no more than a disjointed stream of random images. They didn't seem to be in any order. They didn't make any sense. I tried to hold on to them as they passed, to find some logic in what I was seeing, but they were moving too quickly now, flipping by with ever-increasing speed.

Hidden passageways. Wide marble stairs. An angel and a kiss so perfect that I couldn't bear for it to end, but it, too, slipped away.

A strange man with red eyes and dark hair. Black cloaks. A castle turret. And then pain, indescribable pain that seemed to go on forever, even though it lasted no more than a few seconds.

A parade of faces, faces that were familiar, though I knew they belonged to strangers. And their voices, a bewildering mixture of languages and accents that I couldn't sort out . . . until the voices became screams, terrible screams that echoed in my ears. Screams that wouldn't stop.

My heart was pounding as I wrenched myself free from the nightmare.

"It's okay," a beautiful voice whispered. "You're safe. It was only a dream."

I took a shaky breath as my eyes searched the shadows of the room. I could see very little in the darkness, but I could feel the familiar firmness of the mattress beneath me. I knew the pillow beneath my head. The voice was right. I was safe, safe in my own bed. It had only been a dream . . . but as I turned toward the source of that beautiful whisper, I knew I couldn't be awake, not just yet, because curled up beside me, her head resting on the other end of my pillow, was an angel.

I blinked against the darkness as I struggled to bring my bleary eyes into focus. Yes, I knew this dream. I'd dreamed this dream before, but something was off. Something was different this time. I could make out the shape of the angel, but I couldn't see her. The room was too dark. How strange.

I sat up carefully, my eyes never leaving her shadowy form as I reached blindly for the bedside lamp. It took a few seconds of fumbling, but I eventually found the switch. Laying my head back down on the pillow, I reached out to touch her cheek.

Perfect. The way she closed her eyes, the way she nestled her face against my palm. How long had it been since I'd dreamed of her? I didn't know. My nightmare-addled brain couldn't remember, but however long it had been, it had been too long. It was always too long.

"I've missed you," I whispered.

She sighed softly, her eyes reopening to find mine.

"I missed you, too," she whispered back.

But in the warm light of the lamp, I could see that something else wasn't quite right. In my dreams, her irises were always the color of warm caramel, but they were black now, as black as midnight. Her clothes were different, too. I'd never dreamed of her wearing this cotton shirt before, and I didn't remember seeing it in real life either . . . or had I? My eyes drifted toward the open buttons at her throat. At least the locket was familiar. I felt like I'd seen it in a hundred different dreams, but somehow, I'd never really paid much attention to it before. It had always seemed like a background detail, like something that was only there to help set the scene, but something about it pulled at me now. I slipped my hand away from her face, using my thumbnail to open the engraved circle.

Inside was a familiar image, a picture of my face cut from the larger photo my mother had taken of us before prom. I'd been looking down at a laughing Bella, absolutely mesmerized by how beautiful she had been. Her image wasn't inside, of course, but I didn't need a photograph to remember what she'd looked like that night. I closed the two halves with a soft click and looked back into the angel's eyes.

"I never took it off," she said gently. "You were always with me."

I reached out to touch her cheek again, but other things were starting to break through. Images from my nightmare that seemed much too real. A medieval city. A lavish waiting area with dark paneling. Airports. Flight attendants. Bella wearing the same shirt she was wearing now on a long car ride home.

Rosalie's apology. No way in a million years could I have ever dreamed that up.

"This is real, isn't it?" I asked, more than a little afraid to hope.

Bella's eyebrows lowered slightly in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't just another dream, is it? You're really here. I'm really awake."

"Of course."

But somehow, it still seemed too good to be true. After months of dreaming of her, I couldn't trust my broken heart not to lie to me now.

But what if this was real? What if she was really here with me? What if I didn't have to wake up this time? There was only one thing I could think of doing, only one way to prove I was really awake. I had to try to end the dream. I had to try to wake up, even if I didn't want to.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward. Cautious of her dark eyes, I tried to give her enough time to pull away if she wanted to, but I could see that she didn't. Her lips were cool and firm as my lips curved around them.

And I didn't wake up.

For one brief second, all I could feel was joy, complete and absolute joy. She was real. This wasn't a dream. And then I realized that while Bella was kissing me, she was holding herself back more than she usually did. Was it because she was thirsty? I pulled away, trying to spare her the discomfort, but what I saw in her eyes was sadness, not thirst.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry I left."

There was something more than sadness in her eyes now. Was it tears? Tears that she could not shed? For just a second, a memory rose to the surface, an image of her standing in the forest, her arms wrapped around herself as she tore my world apart.

But she'd torn her own world apart that day, too. I shoved the memory aside before the pain could take hold.

"It's okay," I whispered, trying to pull her into my arms, but Bella wouldn't budge.

"Why are you not angry with me?" she asked. I could see the pain in her expression more clearly now, hear the tears in her voice.

"Because I know why you left," I told her. "You were afraid to stay because you were afraid of what might happen to me."

"But I hurt you."

"We were both hurting, but that's all over. We're together now." But I couldn't stop the dark thought that followed my words. She'd promised she was back, but what if . . .

"Just promise me something, Bella. Promise me you won't leave again."

"I'll never leave you again," she vowed without a moment's hesitation. "I can't make myself leave you again. Being away from you was unbearable. The very thought of leaving you . . ." She shuddered. "But how do you not hate me after everything I put you through? After what happened in Italy?"

"Italy was my fault, Bella. I've already explained that."

She shook her head.

"But in Italy, you saw the truth. You saw what I really am, what I'm really capable of. What happened to the tour group . . . I'm capable of that, too, Edward."

I brushed a finger across her cheek. I knew what Bella was physically capable of, but whether or not she was personally capable of something . . . That was a different matter entirely.

"I know what you are, Bella. That's never mattered to me. It's who you are that I fell in love with." But I could see that my words weren't helping. "Do you honestly not understand how I feel about you?"

I wished I could find the words, eloquent words, beautiful words to explain just what she meant to me. Maybe there weren't words strong enough. Maybe they hadn't been invented yet, but I had to try.

"Bella, I didn't know what it was to be alive until I met you. Before you, I didn't even know what that meant. I just . . . existed."

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't poetic enough. I needed the moon and the stars. I needed sonnets and Shakespeare, but what did I know about all of that? Maybe if I had another hundred years I could find a way to make it sound right, a way to keep it from sounding cheesy.

"I used to think music was the most beautiful sound in the world, but then I heard you laugh. I've seen beautiful sunrises and extraordinary sunsets, but they can't even begin to compare to the way your eyes light up when you smile. I thought I knew what happiness was, but how I feel when we're together is unlike anything I could have ever imagined. When I met you it was like . . . opening my eyes and seeing the world for the first time. You made me feel . . . everything."

I reached out to where her hand rested on the pillowcase.

"But then you were gone, and there was no more music, no more color. I couldn't feel anything anymore. The world kept on turning, so I knew you were in it somewhere, but the sun had gone dark. I wasn't really living, not without you. There wasn't any reason to try."

"Now you're here, and I can hear music again. I can see. I can feel. I can breathe. And then you ask me why I don't hate you. Bella, you're the reason for everything. Everything. How could I ever hate you?"

Was I failing? Was I not finding the right words? I'd spend forever telling her how much I loved her if I had to. I'd find the right words, no matter how long it took.

And then some new light began to glow in her dark eyes.

"But that's how I feel about you," she whispered. Something in her voice sounded confused . . . or amazed. "That's why I went to Volterra. A world without you . . . there wouldn't have been any point. I would have forfeited any desire to live in it."

I brushed my thumb against her cheek. I knew what she meant. I knew it all too well. A world without Bella . . .

"Do you know what I was thinking as I was running through the city?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"I was thinking about what would happen if I didn't find you in time, what I would do if I couldn't save you. I was thinking that I was in the perfect place. It wouldn't be hard to end things. The city was full of people. All I needed to do was to start shouting everything I knew about vampires at the top of my lungs. They wouldn't have let it go on for very long. Someone would have stopped me."

Bella jerked away, propping herself up on one elbow. The expression on her face wasn't hard to read. It was horror, absolute horror.

"Edward, the Volturi would have killed you!"

"That was the point, Bella. I wouldn't want to live in a world where you didn't exist."

She shook her head. "You can't say things like that."

"Then don't do things like that, Bella. Please, please don't ever do that again."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You keep apologizing, but Italy was my fault. Let the blame fall where it belongs. I made the reckless decision that led us there. That was my foolishness, not yours." I sighed. "Romeo and Juliet. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on Romeo. I didn't make such wise decisions, either." I reached up to brush my thumb along the curve of her cheek again. "But I need you to understand that your hold on me is permanent and unbreakable. Never doubt that."

After a moment, Bella nodded, but instead of laying her head back down on the pillow, she moved closer, snuggling into my arms and settling her ear just above my heart. It felt absolutely perfect, but . . .

"Doesn't that bother you?" I whispered into her hair.

"Doesn't what bother me?" she asked, not pulling away.

"My heartbeat . . . Being so close to me. I know you're thirsty."

I felt her shake her head against my chest, but she didn't pull away.

"I thought you were dead, Edward. I'd accepted that I'd never smell you or hear your heartbeat again. The fact that I can now . . . it's a miracle."

"But isn't it . . . uncomfortable?"

"Not in the way you imagine it to be."

Did I feel her . . . smiling against my chest?

"You should still have gone hunting. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

I felt her shake her head again.

"It's okay. I'd rather be here with you."

There were shadows lurking around the corner, worries that would come with the rising of the sun, but I didn't want to think about them just yet. In that one perfect moment, everything was right with the world. Bella was in my arms. We were both safe. It was better than any dream I'd ever had. I turned my face into her hair, breathing in her scent.

"Are you sure this isn't just another dream?" I wondered aloud. I believed it now, but I couldn't stop myself from voicing the thought.

"No, it isn't a dream." But then she pulled back slightly, just far enough to look up into my face. "Did you dream about me?" she asked.

I nodded. "I dreamed about you all the time."

"Nightmares?" A small frown touched the corners of her lips.

No, I would never tell her about those. I shook my head.

"Just dreams. Wonderful dreams. They were strange because they seemed so real, even though I knew they weren't. Sometimes we'd talk. Sometimes we'd just hold each other. Sometimes you'd tell me that you missed me and that you were sorry, and then you'd tell me to look for you."

"Look for me?" she asked. I could see the confusion in her dark eyes.

"Look for you. Just like that. But they were so real. I could touch you. I could feel you. After a while, I started to think they were more than just dreams, so I started to look for you." I frowned faintly at the memory of how far I'd been willing to let my delusions take me. "I went to your house. To Carlisle and Esme's house. I even went looking for the meadow. I found it but . . ."

"But I wasn't there," she whispered sadly.

"You're here now," I pointed out, glad that I hadn't had to mention what had happened that day in the meadow, but Bella seemed distracted now, puzzled by what I was telling her.

"Look for me," she said again.

"Sometimes you'd tell me that I'd know where you'd be."

"Look for me . . ." she whispered a third time, and suddenly her look of confusion shifted into the tiniest hint of a smile.

"'Look for me by moonlight,'" she said, the tone of her voice melodic. She was quoting something, something that seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. "'Look for me by moonlight. Watch for me by moonlight. I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'"

"Huh?"

"The Highwayman," she explained. "Alfred Noyes."

It took me several seconds to remember. It was a poem in one of the poetry books in Bella's library. An outlaw and his lover, each dying for love of the other. Romeo and Juliet all over again, but I still didn't understand what she was trying to tell me.

"Look for me," she whispered again. "It doesn't always mean to go searching. Sometimes it just means to stay where you are and to wait . . . and to watch." She reached up to touch the side of my face. "You must have known I couldn't stay away. You must have known I'd be back . . . somehow . . . eventually. You were just trying to tell yourself to wait for me."

"Bella . . ." Her eyes were going sad again.

"It was hard," she whispered, "so very hard. I tried not to think of you. I tried not to think about how desperately I wanted to come back. Even being with my family made me think of you, so I went to Europe, but nothing worked. I told myself that my happiness didn't matter so long as you were safe, but all I could think of was how much I missed you. It was like there was a piece of me missing, like there was a hole carved out of my chest. I came so close to coming home a few times, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you without an ocean and a continent between us. But it was getting harder. Another week, maybe two, and I'd have given in. I'd have been waiting in your car after school . . . or outside Newton's when you got off work. Your dreams said to look for me, that you knew where I'd be. I'd have been right here, begging you to forgive me for leaving."

Her brow was crinkled. Surely she would have been crying if she'd been able to. Did they hurt? The tears that she couldn't shed? I didn't know, but I leaned forward to kiss her eyes, and she let me pull her close again.

"We're together now," I whispered. I felt her smile against my chest again as she snuggled closer.

Heaven, this was heaven. I glanced toward the alarm clock. There was more than enough time for me to go back to sleep if I wanted to. How wonderful would it be to drift off to dreams with Bella in my arms, to wake up to her all over again? But the flights to and from Europe had my internal clock spinning in circles, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep right now. I would just have to lie here and hold her in my arms.

I didn't mind one bit.

"What did you tell Lizzie?" Bella asked after some time had passed.

"I didn't have very much time to come up with a believable story, just a few minutes in the shower before she laid down the law. I told her that you'd found out Alice had come here and you'd gotten upset. You hopped on the first flight you could catch, but then your plane got delayed and you missed the connecting flight, and everyone lost track of you. Alice and I went to help look for you, but while we were headed there, you were trying to find another way here. It was a big mess that eventually got sorted out when we had a very emotional reunion at the airport in Denver. I was running through the terminal, and you were pushing your way backwards through a security line—something they were not very happy about—but once everything got sorted out, we admitted how we still felt and how much we had missed each other." I offered her a lopsided grin. "I tried to make it sound like something out of a movie."

"Trying to appeal to Lizzie's romantic side?" Bella asked with a knowing smile.

"Pretty much. I think it worked, too, because as soon as I got through with the story, she stopped yelling at me and started feeding me instead. I'm still grounded, of course, but she assumes you're in trouble, too . . ." I paused for a moment, a new thought coming to mind. "Are you in trouble? I mean . . . I don't know how that works . . ."

Bella laughed softly under her breath.

"Am I grounded, do you mean?" she asked. "No, definitely not. I am a ninety five year old vampire, not some uncontrolled newborn." She sobered. "But I did get more than one lecture."

"Well, I'm just a few months away from my nineteenth birthday. Technically, I'm a legal adult, but I'm still grounded until further notice. Maybe if she thinks you're grounded, too . . . " But I didn't finish the thought. Suddenly, I realized that what I'd hoped was a brilliant cover story wasn't quite as brilliant as I'd thought. Bella had told my mother that she was staying in Forks, even if her family wasn't. As far as anyone knew, Bella was eighteen, a legal adult, but even so, after what had supposedly just happened, what parent would allow her to live alone?

"What about your family?" I asked. "Are they coming back, too?"

"They're staying," she answered, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Forks has a more favorable climate than New York. And you're here. And Victoria is back." I could hear the anger creeping into her tone. "We thought she wouldn't be a problem. After we left, Charlie and Jasper chased her to Mexico . . . or so they'd thought."

"You sent your father and Jasper to Mexico after Victoria?"

"No, not exactly. It was Charlie's idea. Jasper volunteered to help."

"They . . . volunteered?" All this time, I'd thought Bella's father didn't like me. I'd thought he'd only just warmed to me after Italy. Jasper had been an unknown quantity. I was sure he liked me on some level, but Bella and her family had left because of what he'd almost done at her birthday party. I would never have expected him to help hunt down Victoria just to make sure I'd be safe back in Forks. Then again, had they done it for me, or had they done it for Bella?

"But they lost her," she continued. "After her trail went cold in Mexico, Jasper left Charlie and went back to the others. He didn't think she'd come after you, but Charlie wasn't so sure. He stayed in Mexico for a while after Jasper left, but eventually he came back, as well. We can only assume that it was all a trick, that she'd discovered they were following her and left a false trail leading to Mexico before coming back here. Jasper is feeling a bit guilty that he misjudged her so completely."

"Of course that's not the whole of it. We didn't know about the wolves. Carlisle had contacted the tribe when he and the others returned to the area a few years ago, and he contacted them again when Charlie and I came back. We have always intended to uphold our end of the treaty, even though we thought there were no wolves left. We had no idea there was a new pack, or that you would be so close to them."

"They aren't so bad, Bella, really, and if it weren't for them . . ."

Bella shuddered.

"I know, and the thought terrifies me. As much danger as you have been in being near them, you might not have survived without them. I'm horrified that I put you in that situation."

But the wolves were the least of my worries. And as concerned as I was about Victoria, there were other things to worry about.

"How long do you think we have," I asked, "before Caius sends someone to check on me?"

Bella pulled away.

"We shouldn't worry about that yet. Let us deal with Victoria. Then we'll figure out something with Aro."

"Figure out something?" I asked. From where I was standing, it seemed like we had only one option.

"There's a chance, perhaps, given Carlisle's history with them . . ."

But I hadn't gotten that impression. I hadn't gotten that impression at all, and I didn't want any of Bella's family to suffer on my behalf. We'd been given an ultimatum, and the Volturi hadn't seemed very forgiving.

I considered for only a moment before pulling away from her. Rolling to the edge of the mattress, I pushed the covers aside and set my feet on the floor.

"I need to talk to Carlisle," I told her.

Bella had pushed herself up onto her elbows. She was eyeing me warily.

"It's one o'clock in the morning, Edward. You should go back to sleep."

"I've been asleep for nine hours. I don't need any more sleep. What I need is to talk to Carlisle."

"But Lizzie . . ."

"She's asleep. She was dead on her feet." I winced at the memory of her as she'd lectured—and then fed—me in the kitchen. Her steps had been sluggish, and she'd been terribly pale. The circles under her eyes . . .

My fault. All the worry she'd suffered while I had been away was my fault.

"She probably hasn't slept for days. She says it's a nurse's superpower, the ability to keep functioning on no sleep, but she always crashes at the end, and she'll sleep through anything when she does. She won't budge until her alarm goes off. Besides," I added, searching for my shoes, "this may be the only chance I get. I'm grounded indefinitely, remember? By the time she decides I'm not grounded anymore and I'm free to talk to Carlisle during daylight hours, the Volturi might be camped out in our living room."