A/N: Here's a cheerful chapter just right for the holiday season! Heh.

"Is this necessary?"

Bella scoffed at the stupidity of the question and continued in her task, retying the man's hands behind his back. "Sleep deprivation is one of the easiest ways to get yourself killed. Just one sleepless night effects everything. Reaction time. Immune system. I can't afford to be foggy out here. None of us can." She straightened up, staring at him. "It's either this or kill you. Only one of those options guarantees I'll be safe from you, so you tell me what you prefer."

He studied her for a long moment. When he sighed, the anger drained from his eyes, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like sadness. "So this is what your life is going to be? This thing happened to all of us, and you're never going to trust another human being again? You're going to live in isolation?" His eyes held hers. "Was it really worth surviving if that's all there is left for you?"

She glared at him, heart pounding. Fury curled in her gut, but she knew damn well it was a cover for something else—fear. The uncertainty of this world as it existed now rocked her to the core. She wanted so desperately to believe there was hope, but it wasn't a guarantee. Not by a longshot.

And he was right. If the world remained as it was right then, she didn't know that the rest of her life would be worth the price she was currently paying for it. She was scared. And angry. So angry that she had to be this way. She didn't want to be the hardened person he saw. Someone who was capable of killing a baby and calling it mercy. She was angry at him because couldn't he see? He was alive—didn't that tell him all he needed to know about the hope that still burned in her heart? She hadn't left the baby to starve to death or be ripped to shreds by animals. Even though she couldn't hope to save him, she hadn't wanted him to die scared, alone, and in pain. There was some humanity in that, wasn't there?

She sat back on her haunches, swallowing hard around the lump that rose in her throat. "I don't think the world will always be this way. It's like you said—some of the compounds have a good thing going. They help each other. They're stronger together. I'm like this because I wasn't fortunate enough to be in the right place when it all went down. I wasn't with the right people.

"Right now, there's no way for me to tell the difference between the good compounds and the dangerous ones, and I don't get second chances. If I trust the wrong person, that's it. Game over." She huffed out a breath. "But this is all so new, really. No one knows who to trust, because no one knows who to blame for what happened. Humanity will win, and it'll be easier to be part of a society again." She pressed her mouth into a thin line, realizing she was rambling, and that she'd revealed vulnerability—potential weakness. She stood up, towering over him, capable where he was handicapped. "Not that it's any of your business what I think is worth surviving."

Bella retreated to the other end of the little cabin, wanting to hide how badly her hands were shaking. It took all her willpower to stop thinking about what she'd taken for granted before—the relative security and comfort of a civilized society. If she thought about it for too long, she'd start to hyperventilate, the weight of loss and want too heavy to breathe through. She set about the task of rearranging the nest of clothes and rags she'd made for herself to sleep on with the baby.

"You're right. That wasn't fair." The man's voice was soft when he spoke again. "I didn't think about it like that. I guess location is the new privilege. I didn't choose where I was born, so to speak, when this all happened. I didn't choose the people I was with on purpose. I was lucky. I know it's dangerous out here, but I also know for a fact I have a safe place to come home to. Well. As safe as you can get at the moment."

As she lay down, putting her arm carefully around the already sleeping little boy, Bella couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" the man asked sounding more curious than offended.

"Just déjà vu ." She sighed and snuffed out the candle she'd been carrying around. "You talking about privilege. I felt like I was back on Facebook for a second there. Social discourse in the comment section."

He chuckled. "I was an avid social justice warrior."

"Me too." She smiled in the darkness. "Hah. #MeToo."

"I wonder that sometimes. If the person, persons, who did this thing to all of us was whatever the opposite of a social justice warrior is? Those people who would explode at the mere thought we should think about the things we say, listen to, consume. They were so angry at what the world was becoming." He scoffed. "Offended that people were offended by innocent bigotry, sexism, and on and on."

Bella was quiet at that, but the man didn't take the hint. After a beat, he asked. "What's your theory? Who do you think did this to us?"

"Scientists," she said.

"What?" he sounded incredulous. "I mean...a scientist had to be the one who manufactured a virus like this."

She'd had way too much time to think about this, and no one to talk to about it for two years. The words tumbled out too fast for her to examine them or to think about if there was some hidden danger in speaking to this man. "The virus wiped out most of the world without prejudice as far as we know. Every country. Every race. Every creed. So who does this benefit? Sure, maybe the people who want to go back to a time when they didn't have to deal with people analyzing books and songs and what have you. But those people get pissed off because other people want to think harder than they want to. No way they can pull off a massive conspiracy—the simultaneous release of an engineered virus in enough cities to infect the entire planet?"

"But scientists are generally on the side of social justice if only because it's scientifically accurate. Sex isn't binary. Gender and race are social constructs. Climate change is…" He gasped.

"You got it, didn't you?"

"Climate change is real," he repeated, sounding breathless. "Scientists are better at the big picture. There was that report a few years ago. We were about to pass the point of no return, the point where we couldn't repair the damage we've done to this planet."

"Earth can repair itself," Bella said.

"But we were too stupid to let it," he concluded. "So you think a bunch of scientists got together to take us out of the equation?"

"They'd have known it was likely a small portion of the population would have natural immunity." Her heart ached. "Like with the plague. Some people just have the DNA to survive."

"Lucky us," he muttered. "Scientists. Humph. And while we start society over again, the planet can recover." He was quiet another few beats. "You know what? I like that. I mean, this is all terrible. But in the long run, they might have saved the human race."

"Maybe it's wishful thinking," Bella admitted. "But I'd like to think there's something more to this than hate."

Quiet filled the darkness for long minutes. Then, "My name is Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen."

When Bella didn't answer, he tried again. "Come on. What's the worst that could happen if I knew your name? Not like I can steal your identity."

In spite of herself, she snorted. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, thinking. She just wasn't sure humanizing this man was a good idea.

"Bella," she said finally. "Isabella Swan."

~0~

Bella was aware Edward's eyes were on her as she worked. It was a strange feeling. Her skin crawled, knowing she was being watched, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it should have been. Awkward, yes. For the millionth time, she wondered what kind of fresh hell this was.

Two days ago, she'd stumbled across a miserable, half-starved baby covered in blood.

Yesterday, she'd had her first civilized conversation in nearly two years...with the man she'd stabbed earlier in the day.

Now, she had marched the man and the baby outside, tied the man to a tree by his ankle, and left them to entertain each other while she got on about the business of preparing all of them for their upcoming journey. She catalogued a list in her heads of what she would need today and for the rest of the week. She prioritized her list, adding in a mental reminder to keep an eye on Edward and the baby—just a glance every minute or so. She made sure to face them so any movement on their part would catch her eye. And that, she reminded herself, meant she would have to remember to watch her back lest someone catch her unawares because she was too busy keeping an eye on the shackled man in front of her.

"What are you doing, anyway? Is it meant to be another shelter?" he asked as he watched her gather the young trees she'd chopped down for her purposes.

"Sure. That's my plan. Colonize the previously unspoiled wilderness to erect Bellatown." She shook her head, using the thick stick she'd sharpened to dig a hole in the earth for the first pole. "They're going to be drying racks. It's a way to preserve fish and meat—dry them out as much as possible. Works best if you have an airtight container to store them in, but better to risk food poisoning than starve to death, I guess."

"Airtight containers are hard to carry around." He paused a beat, bouncing the baby on his knee. "I could help."

She snorted. "Right." She drew her knife along the tree, stripping it of its excess branches. "I'll just hand over this big knife…"

"Yeah. I can see how that would be a problem. Just seems wrong to watch you."

"Who else is going to watch the baby? He has even worse survival instincts than you do."

"Hah. Thanks."

Bella shrugged. That was a simple truth. She moved on to the second hole, working as quickly as she could. There was so much to do and, now that her safe haven wasn't so safe, not enough time to do it in.

Some time went by. Bella got into a rhythm, working and keeping an eye out. Truth be told, at this point, Edward looked anything but threatening. He'd turned all his attention on the little boy. The two were playing happily. Bella had to shush them once when the little boy's peels of laughter got too loud.

Poor little boy. Even his joy could get them all killed. When was the last time he'd been able to play?

"We should name him," Edward said when she retreated to the shade near where they sat. The rack had to be built in the sunniest spot possible in order to dry the meat and fish out.

Bella stared at her accidental captive. "What?"

"He needs a name." Edward bounced the baby on his knee. "Maybe an homage. Do you have a father or maybe a brother we can name him after."

A wave of grief and longing went through her. She missed her father so much in that moment, she ached. The idea of attaching his name to this little boy…

"No," she said, her tone flat and cold.

Edward nodded and, to his credit, didn't ask.

"What do you think then?"

Bella's stomach clenched. "I think it's none of my business."

Edward glanced at her briefly, but then he looked back to the baby. "What's your name, buddy? Hmm. Buddy?" He shook his head. "No. My sister must have watched Elf a million times. I got sick of it. Buddy is out." He tapped the baby on the nose. "Do you know your name?"

The baby babbled at him, waving his arms excitedly, but the noise was unintelligible.

"Hmm. Dean. Sam. Bobby. Charlie. Kevin. Castiel."

As much as Bella didn't want any part of this, she had ears. At first she bristled at the sound of Charlie's name. Then she realized what he was doing and snorted. "You were a Supernatural fan."

"Yep. I think about them a lot. They wouldn't have a problem surviving in this world." He opened his hand as the baby thrust a rock he'd found at him. "Might give the kid a leg up to be named after someone who would survive this mess."

"You do remember how often those characters died, right?" She found the canteens she'd brought outside and thrust one at Edward. "This is real life. No convoluted resurrection story."

"That's a good point." He studied the baby. "Harry? The boy who lived?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Does that make me Voldemort?"

"You're right. Too heavy."

"I told you. None of my business. Name him Albus Severus for all I care."

Edward made a face. "No." He tilted his head, looking back at the baby. "Matthew? It means God's gift."

"God." Bella spat the word. She threw her head back, drinking as much water as three big gulps provided. "How can you still believe in God after all this?"

Edward eyed her over the baby. "I didn't say I believed in God. I said that's what Matthew means."

"If you're trying to give him a name that means something, why would you choose that? If God exists, and the life he has planned for this baby is a gift, he has a fucked up sense of humor."

"Like I said, I don't know that I believe in God, but I can make a case for a divine gift. Isn't that what his life is? He was born after the virus, which means he was born to parents who were immune. Whatever else happens, that's not the thing that's going to kill him. Or us."

"Such a great gift," Bella said, bitter sarcasm leaking into the words. "My presumed ability to bear children who are immune to the virus is part of the reason I can't just wander into any compound."

Whether by chance or design, the virus had killed more women than men. For some, survival had the ultimate goal of reproduction—a biological imperative to produce superior offspring built to repopulate this new world. Some of the men out there weren't interested in Bella's opinion on the matter. She had a womb going to waste, empty as it was. She and her womb were in high demand.

"If you have any other suggestions—"

"No." Bella got to her feet. "I told you. This is none of my business. I don't want any part of it."

"It's just a name. Something to call him. It doesn't need to be deeper than that."

"I don't care."

The words rang hollow even to her own ears. She did care. That was the problem and why she didn't want any part of this process. As it was, she knew when it came time for Edward and the baby to go their separate ways, she would lose valuable brain power worrying and wondering what had become of them. Naming the baby would make it that much more personal.

Bella got to her feet, trying not to listen as Edward rattled off names, trying them on for size. "Aiden? Jamie? Brett? Hunter? Hunter might be more literal when you grow up."

It struck Bella just how hopeful that thought was. She did hope he was right, that the baby had some hope of a future ahead of him.

That they all did.

"Micah? Aaron?"

The boy let out a squeal of a giggle and clapped his hands.

"Aaron?" Edward chuckled. "Okay. Aaron it is."

Bella's lip twitched. Another biblical name. Aaron—brother of Moses. And, if Bella recalled The Ten Commandments, he got in some trouble for worshiping a false idol. That was another popular theory among the believers. That the virus was a punishment from the vengeful god of the old testament. Their society had worshiped so many false idols—celebrities and fashion and any number of things.

But again, it was none of her business. Edward and baby Aaron would soon be out of her life.

A/N: Many thanks to my group for helping me work through my writer's block.

How we doing out there?

I'm amused. My infant is beside me making goofy faces and trying to figure out how to babble. It's adorbs.