Chapter Eleven

"Sometimes I wish I could have taken the more classic route of all this," Rosalie said, sitting in a chair in Carlisle's home infirmary. "You know, like older times. Pee on a stick, see two lines form, jump up and down and start screaming."

"I think the older thing would be carrying on life as usual," Alice replied, "except you're getting bigger for months and later end up giving natural birth in the woods. That's classic."

Emmett waited a beat before responding. Rosalie just raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, Alice," he said.

"Oh, you guys know I love you."

Rosalie, Alice, and Emmett chatted while Bella found herself more anxious than her blonde sister-in-law. Carlisle was running a scan pregnancy test for Rosalie, and the outcome could go one of two possible ways: Rosalie could be pregnant and live a lovely, lively, even more human life; or Rosalie could not be pregnant and accuse Carlisle's remedy of not being legitimate. Fertility was all that she had really been in for, anyway, besides growing old and gray, and then dying of a stroke. For Rosalie to not be pregnant now would be a nightmare, though. What could she blame the mood swings on that was just as endearing as a pregnancy?

Carlisle returned from a back room with a smile on his face. "Congratulations, Rosalie and Emmett. You're six weeks pregnant."

Rosalie cried and hugged Bella. She also cried and hugged Bella on the front porch of her new house, three days later. Bella had never been around somebody so happy for so long. It almost made her wish her own pregnancy hadn't been so grotesque and supernatural.

Rosalie and Emmett were as pretty as a picture as they stood on their front porch of "the most perfect house" in Port Townsend, with orange and red October leaves surrounding them. Yesterday, Rosalie had legally decided to go by Rosalie Hale-Cullen, to be more connected to Emmett, and more devoted. Officially moved into their new house and residents of Port Townsend, they were brand-new. It was dissociating.

It was even more dissociating when Bella hugged Rosalie and Emmett goodbye. It wasn't a permanent goodbye, but "You can always visit us - we're two hours away, not two continents!" actually meant "Please don't alter our most human experience in any way."

On the drive back to Forks, Bella felt like something was missing. It was Rosalie and Emmett. When they had changed back in March, they hadn't been lost or even missed. They still lived in the main house and talked with everybody nearly everyday. But something as simple as a pregnancy had driven them away; it was like they had been waiting for the perfect opportunity.

All Bella needed was for Edward to be gone, and then she'd be completely empty.

The remaining Cullens (plus Jacob) had gotten home from Port Townsend at twilight. Everybody except Bella and Edward went to the main house, but the outcasts retreated to their porch swing.

What he said wasn't a question or even a suggestion; it was a command. "Live with me."

"Isn't that what we're doing?" she asked, watching the sunset. "Aren't we living?"

"No, Bella. Be human with me. Please. If you don't like it, you can always go back. You can go back whenever you want as long as you try it."

How fucking dare you. She felt the ticks. She was about to go off like a time bomb, but she knew that couldn't happen. She turned to look at him. "Edward," she said, her voice soft, "it's not safe. Carlisle said so himself - remember that? He doesn't think it's safe to go back and forth, and I believe him."

"But, Bella," he said, "we could live like how things would have been. Porch swing, iced tea… the simplicity."

"I'm not taking that chance," she gently asserted.

"But if it was completely safe, would you?" he challenged.

She couldn't lie to him now. "No," she said. "I would not want to do that under any circumstances."

"Can I ask you why?"

"No, Edward," she said sharply, "let me ask you why. Why the hell are you living so much in the past? Porch swings, iced tea, watching the fucking sunset… Why does that matter so much to you now? You're clinging to the past, and I don't like that. There's nothing to avoid now, so I can't see why you keep running back to your little fantasy land as if what you have here isn't perfectly fine."

He wasn't usually one to dance around answers, but she didn't know what to expect with him anymore. "I could ask you the same question, Bella," he started. "Why does being immortal matter so much to you? What is it? Is it the invincibility, the looks, or something else?"

It was like 20 Questions or something. "Why are you talking to me like I'm stupid all of a sudden?" she demanded, even though he exposed her principal reasons for wanting immortality, besides getting to be with him forever, but that need was somewhat gone now.

"You could have easily fooled me."

She glowered at him.

"Okay, that's not what I meant," he said calmly.

"It sounded like it, though." A storm was brewing inside her - she could feel it.

"Bella, I want you to try. Just try. Remember when I tried for you?"

"Yeah," Bella said. "Under your one condition. Marriage isn't a little thing, you know."

"Well, neither is this. All I want is for you to try it once."

"So let's say I do try," she says. "I try it, and I hate it. I can't go back, though. Then what?"

"Then…" He sighed. "Then you'll hate me for the rest of your life, and I'll accept it."

"That's not even remotely fair. You're already pretty good at self-loathing."

"Then… Then I don't know, Bella. All I want is for you to try it, though. Just once."

"No," she established.

"So that's it," he stated. "You'd rather be pretty, right?"

"Sure," she said sarcastically. "It's not like I was ever too ecstatic to spend the rest of forever with you or anything. I'd much rather be beautiful." Under the sarcastic tone, she wasn't entirely exaggerating at the moment.

"And it's not like you wouldn't have left me so quickly after turning if it weren't for Renesmee, right?" he shot. It was a blow to knees. The worst thing about it was that he was right.

"This is ridiculous," she said, shutting the bomb down before it blew up in her face. She lowered her voice. "You've had your fun, Edward. You've gotten a little tan and fallen asleep and had dreams and sat on your fucking porch swing with a glass of iced tea to watch the sunset, but I think that if you really loved me, you'd go back. Just consider that."

"As long as you consider being human with me," he replied, "then I'll consider that."

And it was then that he realized that he had truly picked mortality over Bella. It was ugly and malicious, but it was clear.

"Edward," she groaned. "I can't fight with you like this forever. As long as you're human, you don't have the time. You know what the better option is, don't you? I know you're a smart man; I need you to make the smart decision."

She suddenly grabbed his hand, and he flinched. "See," she said. "You live in fear as long as you live like this. I hardly remember what it was like to really touch you, and I hate that. I also hate the fact that you have to sleep and eat and everything. I feel like I've lost you. Even though you try to tell me all this stuff about how I still have you, I don't have you anymore. And I want you, Edward. I want you more than ever. I need you."

She had poured what was left of her heart right there onto the porch, and he just stared at the mess.

Frustrated, she wanted to cry. She wanted to project all her emotions onto him just so he could have some empathy. But his head was so empty that he didn't know how people worked anymore. She shouldn't have expected him to show even a hint of emotion.

"I'm sorry," he told her. He didn't have anything malevolent to say. He was just sorry - but not sorry enough to show any emotion.

"Why don't you ever cry?" she mumbled, staring into his dry, green eyes.

"Because I know you'd never forgive me for it."

He was right. As much as she wanted him to be more passionate, she would hate to see her cry. Her pride would just get in the way, and she would be jealous.

"Dammit, I am so sorry," he said, as if it would change anything.

"Yeah?" Her voice quivered, but no tears would ever come out.

He took her hand, as cold and hard as a stone to him, and squeezed it lightly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Bella, I'm sorry."

He had a lot to apologize for, but she lacked the patience to hear it all, and he lacked the humility to give it all. She bit her lip. "I know," she said. "You better be."

He held her hand up to his cheek, warm and pink, even in the October cold. "I am," he said.

"You should be."

And he wanted to kiss her—how much he wanted to kiss her was both a strain and a relief to him, all because he still wanted her. Even as she had promised she would be a problem, as much as she was currently behaving like one, as much as he knew it hurt, he still wanted her because he had wanted her for so long. It was difficult to no longer want the person he had wanted since what felt like the beginning of time, and it would be difficult to tell her all of this since she wouldn't believe a portion of it. He had let his pride get in the way too many times to be remotely genuine anymore.

Through all the time that had passed, Bella had changed. She had changed more than Edward had, and he wasn't even immortal anymore.

The Bella he'd known hadn't doubted him as much as she did now, and she had never mistrusted him as much as she did now, either. Her reaction to him now was what it should have been when they'd first met—he would now take it thankfully for her to purposely stay away. It was as if the self-hatred that had nearly disappeared with time and pride was gone, and was now being replaced with Bella's vindictive feelings toward him.

Edward kissed the back of her hand. "Don't hate me," he whispered. "Don't hate me. You're the last person who can hate me."

Bella knit her brow and shook her head. "I don't hate you."

"Don't," he said. "Don't hate me now."

If only he knew that she was far past hating him.

Then he told her to not be sad. He was always telling her to not be something - always shrinking her. Even though he was human, he was crushing her now more than ever.

"Please don't be sad."

He couldn't even read her mind anymore, but he knew. It was incredible. He was also dead wrong.

"I'm not sad," she said with a very slight movement of her mouth, almost resembling a smile. And what she said was actually true. She wasn't just sad; she was far past that, too. She'd been sad when he'd initially told her of his desire to be human. What was sadness now, but a slight fraction of what true pain and sorrow could truly be? Bella wished for something as comparably light as sadness. She would kill for it.

"You know I still want you," he told her. "I just can't determine how."

"You can really kiss me if you want to," she said, trying not to think of the blood in his cheeks, his lips, his hands, his everything. "I'll be careful," she added, not sure if she could trust her own words. Hopefully he would, but they were prone to taking chances.

He bit his bottom lip, and even though he wasn't beautiful anymore—because once she had seen perfection, anything less was instantly ugly—he was a faint sight of what he had used to be. Then he shut his eyes, and the harsh, green reminders of his selfishness and pride were put away momentarily. Venom stung in Bella's eyes like tears would.

"I can't try it," he said. "Not again."

It was so clear.

He didn't like her as much as she loved him. He wasn't willing to take the chances she had taken with him. He valued himself and his own human pride more than their love. He didn't trust her—he didn't trust anything about her. Nobody could call Bella selfish now, though, because Edward had snatched the first place trophy away from her.

"It's okay," she said. Deception is okay, too.

Edward's denial of Bella was a lot of things—upsetting, disappointing, and annoying, to begin to describe it—but nonetheless, it was frustrating.

Bella had never been hard to love. With how her life had gone so far, she knew that being loved was easy for her. Yet now, she was hard to love—almost as hard as it was to love Edward solely for his personality. And she wasn't demanding much; she just wanted to be softer to him. Even though everything had been demolished, going from zero to one hundred (and real quick), she still wanted him. She wanted to be loved like she wasn't made of stone. Being treated humanely shouldn't be a huge request.

Then he opened his eyes and stared down and into her topaz ones. It was a horrible clash—Bella hated everything about it.

And then he pressed his soft, warm lips to her forehead.

She wanted a lot of things, but above else, she wanted to die. Living in a world that didn't involve Edward Cullen loving her the most that he could wasn't a world she wanted to be a part of. She didn't want to suffer in that world a second time.

Don't you know? she wanted to ask him. Don't you know that all the stars shine for you? All the stars in the sky shine just for you and nobody else and you choose to admire the earth and all its naturalness and blandness. You don't reach for the stars, where you belong; you don't know everything that you are.

He could destroy her, and she would graciously let him all because he still deserved better.

She was reminded of a time so long ago, a time almost as depressing as this one, when she'd been literally dying for Renesmee to live. Edward had been angry, claiming Bella had not given a choice, but wasn't this just the same? She didn't have a choice at all now. Didn't he know that?

"You chose wrong," she murmured to Edward. "You chose to leave me."

He still had his lips to her forehead, and a part of her knew that he was saying goodbye, too, until he kissed her on the lips, and really kissed her. It was an open-mouthed, danger-zone kiss. The kind of kiss where they couldn't keep from moaning. It was fatal now, but it was home, and she loved it. He made her feel like how he used to: classic.

We were so crazy, stupid, reckless, timeless in love, she wanted to tell him. We were everything.

And for the moment, they were crazy in love, stupid in love, reckless in love, and timeless in love. For the moment, they were everything.

When she tasted his sweet, warm blood gushing into her mouth only seconds later, she knew that everything couldn't exist in their world again.

Everything was too reckless for his own good.

A/N: I don't know about you, but I love it when shit hits the fan. I'm pretty dramatic.

Until next chapter,

HS