A/N for 2018-12-07: Thank you for all the comments and feedback, folks. Always appreciated. Just a heads up, I'll be taking a few weeks off from writing and posting. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this story, but I very much need some time to deal with some emotionally heavy, real-life stuff.

~ Erin

He'd been gone close to an hour, when he finally returned, the house full of worried thoughts.

Jasper's were the exception to this.

They were a guiltily excited babble.

Edward listened, pulling up short, just shy of the door. Then he moved quickly onwards, only slowing to make his approach audible to Bella.

She gasped, seeing him, but didn't move, still frozen at the window.

He moved slowly towards her, taking her hands. "I'm so sorry. That was foolish of me, and I frightened you."

"You didn't frighten me," Bella sighed. "I remembered something, and then I was angry—"

"I know."

"You do?"

He swallowed nervously. He had no idea how she would receive the news of what he'd heard.

"I heard your thoughts. All of them."

"You—all, as in—"

He couldn't bring himself to say the name. "I saw what he did to you."

"Oh." She became very still and quiet. After a moment, she said, "I'm so sorry."

She was sorry?

"Why are you sorry?" he asked. "I left when you clearly needed me."

Her face twisted, like she was trying to remain calm, but losing the battle. "You can't forget things. And if it haunts me, and I'm human, I just—I don't want it to haunt you too."

"I'm fine," he breathed, reassuring himself with a hand to her cheek.

She looked at him sharply. "You saw that, and you're fine?"

He longed to assure her, but he couldn't mask the truth. "No, but not because of what I saw."

Her eyebrows squished together.

"When I told you what I was, I made it very clear that I hadn't always had my current diet."

"I remember."

"You've never asked me about that time."

"It's your past, Edward—"

"It tells you what I'm capable of." He glanced at her open, trusting face. Yes, she trusted him, and even though it was what he'd wanted, he knew he still wasn't deserving of such a thing. "I left Carlisle a few years after I was turned. I resented him for . . . curbing what I saw as my natural appetite. I hunted people. I told myself it was alright because I could hear their thoughts. I took criminals—murderers, rapists, sociopaths. I had myself convinced that I was doing the world a favour, but it wasn't true. I was as wrong as they were—taking lives I had no right to."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Her hands slipped into his.

"Because I came so close to finding that man, and—" He stopped, taking in a small breath, and then letting it out, reminding himself of whose hand he was holding. "I didn't."

She swallowed. "OK."

"Did I do the right thing?"

Warm and soft, her hands rested on his face. "Yes. You came back to me. He doesn't matter."

They stayed there for a moment, foreheads together.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked softly.

"Sure."

"Why were you angry?"

She moved towards the bed, and sat on its edge, still holding his hand. She sighed before starting. "I felt like we'd made a step, and then. . . to remember that." She shook her head, like she was trying to loosen something, "I was angry with myself, for letting that in."

"Why?"

"It won't help me, to keep dwelling on it. Why, what did you think?" She looked at him, face curious.

"I thought you were angry with me, Bella. You'd have every right to be."

"Explain that logic to me."

"I told you why I haven't reacted that way to you, and then acted like—"

"A horny seventeen year old?" This was said with a knowing grin.

He couldn't help it, and laughed. "I was going to say like an idiot, but yes, that too."

"Takes one to know one." She elbowed him lightly, and laughter rocked both their bodies. "I'm glad you did, Edward," Bella offered more quietly. "I haven't felt. . . wanted, not that way. Not in a good way, at least."

He opened his mouth to object, but she lifted a few fingers, asking him to wait.

"No, I don't mean I have low self-esteem or anything, I'm just not exactly remarkable appearance-wise—yes, I know you disagree, but you—when I'm with you, I know you love me, but I'd wondered if it was more . . ." Her eyes flicked to the dresser, where a small stack of books sat, "Jane Austen than Lady Chatterley."

Edward smiled at this literary explanation.

"It was . . . validating, knowing you wanted me that way. That you felt the same way I do."

He didn't miss that she'd used the past tense, so he asked slowly, "Is that something that you want? To know when I feel that way?"

A blush prefaced her answer. "Yes, I mean, I'm sure you know when I do."

Yes. He did.

He nodded, avoiding a response to her inferred query. "I have something else to tell you."

Her eyes hadn't left him, but they searched his face now.

"Jasper thinks I heard you because you were angry."

She looked at him, offering a tenuous, "OK."

"He felt your anger, and then my. . . surprise." Shock was a better description, but he wanted to spare her further distress over what had happened.

"So when I'm angry, you can hear me?"

"It seems to fit, with the other times."

She sighed, rubbing her face. "Alright. Time to work on some anger management then."

Edward felt a stab of guilt with his disappointment. He wanted her to have privacy, but he wanted to know her in every way he could.

He focused on more practical matters instead. "There are still a few hours before you need to get up. You should probably get some sleep."

She looked at him, and then at the bed, and sighed reluctantly, like she was about to take on something unpleasant. "Yeah, I should." Her teeth had couched themselves in her lip again. "You OK to stay? You're. . . in control?"

"I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't." He let his smile flourish. "You know, you don't need to ask me to stay. You only need to ask me to leave."

"Good." There was a tiny lifting at the corner of her lips, and she squeezed his hand.

If he could hear her mind now, he wondered if he'd hear his desire to kiss her mirrored there. He didn't, wanting her to rest.

So she curled into the bed, he beside her, hands linked, letting the last hours of the early morning be silent with her sleep.

- 0 -

She liked work.

At least, she liked the work part of it.

She liked the Mike part of it a lot less.

"So, he's like your foster brother?"

If it hadn't been so annoying, it would've been hilarious, but Mike Newton's obvious attempts to not-so-subtly disparage, in anyway he could, her relationship with Edward, were not.

"Yep," she said. "Dating my foster brother." Then, because she'd put up with a solid hour of his commentary so politely, she said sotto-voce, "It's great. Don't have to go far to make out. Besides, he's got this awesome king-sized bed. So much room to maneuver, you know?" She winked at him conspiratorially.

Mike swallowed, wide-eyed.

Then she walked away, swinging her hips from side to side.

Eat that, Mike, she thought.

He didn't follow, and the rest of her shift was blissfully busy with customers and Mr. Newton's soft requests.

As he and Bella locked up for the night, Mr. Newton gave her a curt nod. "You're a quick learner, Bella. Good to see."

She hadn't heard such praise for a long time, and a surprising wave of feeling swelled up inside. "Thanks," she husked out, nodding. She doubted he wanted to see her get weepy.

Driving towards the Cullens, she made herself take stock of the good things in her life. The list was short, and it began with Edward. Next was a home that was beginning to feel safe, then blossoming friendships, and a creeping sense of normalcy that was sending down shallow, but healthy roots.

This feeling exploded when she rounded the last curve on the Cullen's driveway.

Edward was suddenly in the truck, reaching over to kill the ignition, jerking them to a stop. His arm around her, he had her outside, and behind him, the rest of the family circled around her protectively.

"What's going on?" she said, voice shaking.

"The wolves are here," Edward said, back to her still, scanning the treeline.

"Why?"

"We're not sure."

She stood still, listening, watching their statuesque forms.

Then Edward's head and lips moved, but she heard nothing.

"If there's something we need to know, we'd appreciate hearing it, Sam." Carlisle called out.

Jasper and Emmett moved from the back of the circle.

"No," Edward said. "Stay there. Until we're certain."

Carlisle walked forward, stopping some twenty feet away from his family.

Then Bella saw the trio of shapes, and gasped.

They were huge. Bigger even than she remembered. Her hand went to her left arm, healed now, but with a mnemonic red line fresh enough to make the flesh there tingle.

"This is most unusual, Sam," Carlisle called.

The wolves stopped, leaving Carlisle stranded an equal distance between them, and the rest of the Cullens.

Edward made a derisive sound in this throat. "And you didn't think to phone her, to ask?"

"Edward," Carlisle said, his voice all warning.

Edward huffed out a breath. "They think we've kidnapped Bella."

One of the wolves growled, a low and menacing sound.

A shiver moved down Bella's back, hearing it.

Then Edward sighed. "They'd like to hear from you, Bella."

"Sure." She swallowed, going to move forward, but Edward put his hand out, preventing her.

"You can talk to them from here."

More growling.

"And let you lose control again?" Edward said, answering a silent question.

It was Jacob, she realized, the colour and shape suddenly clicking.

Her face felt hot, and Edward looked back at her, eyebrows rising.

Shit.

She was angry. Taking a deep breath, she tried to let it go, focusing on drawing herself inwards.

"You should explain why you're here, Bella," Edward said. He looked at the wolves, but his eyes swept the circumference of the property, and Bella realized it wasn't just the three wolves in front of them. They were all around them.

"My emancipation was denied, Jacob. The judge wouldn't sign off on it. They said I could go into foster care in Port Angeles, but I asked if the Cullens would have me. They said yes."

There was a subtle shifting in the stance of the wolves. Two of the three relaxed, but Jacob's posture remained rigid.

"He'd like to know why you didn't go back to them," Edward said.

She snorted out a breath. "Do you really want me to say? In front of everyone?"

Now the two other wolves turned, moving towards the cover of the trees. Jacob joined them, but reluctantly, looking backwards once as he went.

"They're going to come back as themselves," Edward murmured to Bella.

"Good," Carlisle said, turning slightly too, so Bella could see the small frown on his face.

The rest of the family hadn't budged, and the circle held its tight circumference around Bella.

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the treeline, Jacob and Paul with him.

"You're OK, Bella?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine, Sam." She felt it now, seeing his human shape, rather than his other one. She wasn't so sure of Jacob. His face was neutral, but she doubted the feeling was.

"I appreciate you don't want to stay with the Blacks, Bella, but you have a place with us, if you need it. With Sue, or with Emily and I."

"Thank you," Bella said politely. "But it had to be a placement that the social worker would allow."

"You could've come back to us, Bella," Jacob said, his voice slicing through the air.

She swallowed, giving herself a moment before speaking. Flicking her gaze around the circle of Cullens, still surrounding her. "No, thank you."

Jacob turned to Sam. "You're seriously going to buy this? They won't even let her move. Like she can freely speak her mind."

Sam listened, and nodded, lifting his chin in her direction. "Jacob does have a point. I'd like to know you're free to leave if you want, Bella."

Rolling her eyes, Bella moved to push past Edward. His hand slipped around hers, making her pause.

"I'm sure Jacob won't mind backing up then," he said.

Sam arched an eyebrow, but turned and nodded towards Jacob, who huffed angrily and took several strides backwards.

Edward let go of her hand, and she moved forward to Sam, staying just out of arm's reach.

"You good?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Not thrilled about not being emancipated, but otherwise OK."

"And you want to be here?"

"Yes."

Sam's eyes searched hers. Satisfied, his posture straightened. "Let's go then."

"Just a moment, please," Carlisle called out.

With a last look at Jacob, Bella turned back to see Edward, hand outstretched, waiting for her.

The murmured conversation between Sam and Carlisle was unintelligible.

Edward's cold hand was the only home she wanted.

"We didn't see this coming," he said, as if he was apologizing for what had happened.

"Still getting used to the idea that you might." Nothing bad had happened. Things seemed to be settling, not amicably, but at least without anger. Carlisle, Sam and the other pack members were walking away from each other.

Then her free hand began to tremble.

Keeping her swear silent, she asked Edward, "We're good?"

He didn't answer, saying, "Let's go inside."

In the house, she headed for the kitchen, finding the juice. Sugar seemed to take the edge off of the shaking that accompanied most frights.

"That was not the way I'd hoped to welcome you home."

"Wasn't on my list either."

They were sitting by the island, and when she put the cup down, her hand remained steady.

Good, she thought. Progress.

"How was work?"

"Fine. Pleasantly busy. I even got to use a sticker gun." She mimed the action. "Pa-tchoo!"

His laugh was beautiful.

Sliding it under it were the voices of the other Cullens, now coming inside.

Esme was first. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. "I know that was a shock."

"I am, thank you," Bella said, meaning it.

Esme nodded, and then looked at the empty glass, and Edward, "Why don't we get dinner ready?"

"Oh, I can make something. You don't need—"

"To take care of you? As any foster family would be expected to? As we've just assured the pack we will?" Her eyebrows rose in question.

"Um . . . "

Esme obviously took this articulate statement as a yes, and began gathering ingredients from the fridge.

Rose made Bella jump, clanging a set of keys down on the counter.

"Her truck is dead," she spat at Edward.

"What?" Bella asked, a wave of distress brewing.

Edward glared at Rosalie.

"Don't look at me. The oil pan was cracked."

Bella was trying very hard not to show just how upset she was about this.

"It's OK," Edward leaned over. "It can be fixed."

"The engine's almost completely seized. But hey, if you want to rebuild a hunk of junk, feel free."

Rose turned and left the room.

"Does she still think I'm a danger to you?" Bella asked Edward.

"No."

"Then why is she so. . . angry with me?"

His mouth and eyebrows became inverted triangles. "Ignore her, Bella."

She frowned, and then looked at him, the dissatisfaction there clear.

Edward's face imitated hers. "I won't speak for her, much as I would like to answer your question."

This was perfectly reasonable, and Bella sighed and nodded. Then she said, "OK. I think now is one of those times when I ask you to give me some space."

Edward eyed her nervously.

Standing up, she went to follow Rosalie.

"Bella, I don't think—"

She turned to face him. "You can't buffer my relationships Edward, and I don't want you to."

His jaw worked side to side, and his eyes flicked over her face. His agreement was a gruff dip of his head, he stayed put as Bella made her way out of the room.

Rosalie hadn't gone far—just to the room she and Emmett shared.

Bella knocked at the door, which was open a crack.

"What?" came Rose's voice.

"I'd like to speak with you."

Rose sounded resigned. "Well, come in then."

Bella did, standing just inside the door.

"Have I offended you, Rosalie?"

"You? No."

As Bella looked at her foster-sister, her eyebrows rose incredulously.

"It isn't you who's given offense, little girl."

Bella half-laughed, half snorted. "I am not a little girl."

"I'm old enough to be your great-grandmother, so yes, you are." Rose continued sorting the clothing on her bed into small piles.

Bella's lips twisted. "Do you not want me living here?"

Rose paused, a hand-half way between a shirt, and a pair of trousers. Her voice seemed minutely softer. "It isn't your presence in the house that bothers me."

"Then what is it?" She had enough of the hostility. If she was going to live here, they might as well have it out now.

Rosalie sighed. "Go sit down before you pass out or something."

Bella felt fine, and her jaw clenched at the clear condescension, but she could play along. "Fine." She sat in one of the chairs by the bed, legs and arms crossed. Her position gave a clear view of Rosalie's face.

Rosalie kept sorting clothes. "Has he told you my story?"

"Edward hasn't told me anything about you."

Again, Rosalie paused. "Really?"

"Really."

Rosalie "hmphed," and went on sorting. "I'm surprised."

"Why?"

Now her face twisted, making the startling beauty in it bitter. "It's been suggested that we have more in common than not."

Bella couldn't imagine what she could mean by this.

"It was suggested that I might even be of help to you."

Bella's arms relaxed a little, but her eyebrows squished together. They had nothing in common, not as far as she could tell.

"I understand you were forced to be a prostitute."

Edward had never said anything, but Bella assumed the Cullens knew. Still, to have it stated so bluntly wasn't pleasant. She and Sally might sling the words around between each other, but that was different.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Were you a virgin?"

What the hell kind of question was that? Her face reddened—

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rose had stopped moving things about. She faced Bella now, posture perfect, legs crossed elegantly, hands delicately spread over the bedspread.

Bella gave a tiny nod, face still hot.

"I was too, when my fiancé and his friends raped me, beat me, and then left me to die in the street." She half-smirked. It's bitterness uglied her otherwise perfect face. "Carlisle found me. He smelled all the blood. Decided to 'save' me." Her fingers hooked around the words.

Bella wasn't sure what to do with this revelation, and swallowed. To say 'I'm sorry' would be an insult—

"Carlisle thought I might offer you some empathy. Advice. Emmett thought so too." She flicked at her finger nail. "I have none."

Bella stared, still saying nothing.

"I don't judge you, or anything. I don't think less of you because someone paid to do that to you. I feel badly for you, but I have nothing else to offer you. Because you're still human. You can move on."

Bella's forehead creased, as she tried to understand this.

"We don't change. We're locked in on day one. I mean, with our mates," and here she paused, smiling. "There's that, and it's wonderful—but it's. . . this is it. We're stuck. Frozen." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at Bella, the bitterness there again. "I envy you, and I loathe myself for that. Edward knows that." She grimaced. "You're young, and you're human, and you have everything before you—everything. You could have children, if you wanted to." She looked at her. "But you've chosen to be with someone who can't give you that. Someone who's more likely to kill you than offer you any kind of life."

Bella looked down at the floor. What did you say to someone who'd swum in that kind of bitterness, for that long?

"The best thing you can hope for is some sort of half-life with us, Bella. You're so young, you don't even understand what you're giving up. It's stupid. I can barely stand to watch it."

Bella understood why Edward had kept them apart.

"Of course, Edward knows what I think. Now you do too."

Bella stood. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Rosalie snorted.

Struggling with the words, but wanting their truth to be clear, Bella cleared her throat before she spoke. "You don't choose who you fall in love with."

Rosalie's response was instant and genuine. "No, you just choose who you're with, and where. You can still choose differently." She looked at Bella, and the earnestness of this statement was unmistakable.

Bella's couldn't disagree more, but knew there was no point in wasting words with Rosalie. Her own body had made its choice the very first time Edward had touched her. There was no choosing anything else. It was him, or no one.

Turning, she walked to the door, and closed it softly behind her, hoping she and Rosalie would find a way to stay far, far apart from each other.