A/N: And here's the next chapter. I haven't written anything for weeks and I can't promise an update until February 15—I have a very, very, very important exam that day and need to prepare. A lot. And since time's running out I won't have much time for anything else. Wish me luck for the exam! I hope you like the reunion! Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm sorry that I haven't answered all of them yet, but I'm very busy right now! I really appreciate them!

Disclaimer: It's all property of Stephenie Meyer.

10. REVELATIONS

BELLA

If I'd assumed things couldn't get any worse, I'd been wrong.

Walking into my office on Monday morning, I found a blue folder on my desk with a yellow post-it stuck on top, a note from Danielle. That's him, it read. Isn't he hot? I stared down at the folder unhappily. I knew now whose file it would contain, which didn't exactly lift my mood. I'd have to avoid the upper floors from now on. I didn't spend much time up there, anyway, and I tended to give the area of the hospital where the ORs were located a wide berth for obvious reasons, but I might still accidentally run into Carlisle.

I put my leather bag on top of the folder so I wouldn't have to see it and shrugged out of my coat. Switching on the computer, I slumped into my chair. I hadn't read the news yet; I'd spent the morning cleaning up the mess Edward had left behind, which hadn't been fun at all, and airing the entire house for hours because his scent lingered. It hadn't done much good, and I'd been glad to finally arrive at work, where the smell of disinfectant and, subtler but always there, the stench of decay had chased the memory of Edward's annoyingly alluring scent away.

I clicked through several newspaper websites but only found an article on Amanda Greene. I didn't read it, though. It wouldn't do any good, aside from making me feel guilty again, and I needed a clear head if I wanted to fight Victoria.

No, I wasn't suicidal at all.

"Morning, boss," Danielle said, waltzing into the office in a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume. I swivelled my chair to the left and hid behind the computer screen so she wouldn't see me wrinkle my nose; it smelled of artificial berries. Danielle had a knack for picking awful fragrances. Folding her umbrella, she parked herself in the chair in front of my desk. Her cheeks were flushed as she smiled at me brightly. I swallowed to ease my burning throat, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and I realised that I'd only reacted so violently to her blood last week, because I hadn't fed in three weeks. "How was your weekend?" she asked.

"Great," I replied, smiling. "How was yours?" I didn't really care, but it would keep her from asking any more questions I didn't want to answer. I lifted my bag off the desk to check my cell phone again. I didn't really expect Jake to call although I wished he would. I wanted to know how things had turned out with Sam. I hoped he hadn't given Jake too hard a time when he learned that I'd been in Forks.

"Awesome," Danielle said. "I bought the cutest dress for tonight."

"What's tonight?" I asked despite myself, momentarily distracted.

Danielle raised her eyebrows.

"What?"

"You got the memo, right? I'm a hundred percent sure I forwarded the e-mail."

"Yeah, I got the memo," I said quickly, realising what she was talking about. I hadn't forgotten, of course—I couldn't forget—but with everything that was going on right now, dressing up wasn't exactly high on my priority list. Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice. I'd skipped the hospital's annual fundraising gala last year because I hadn't been sure I'd be able to handle that many humans, and I'd gotten an earful from my boss Henry Lambert about it. If I didn't show up tonight I was in for another unpleasant conversation where I'd have to put up with Lambert's less-than-subtle hints that he'd like to sleep with me, and that I should do so in order to keep my job. As far as I knew he'd hit on every woman working at the hospital at one point or another, and while most had turned him down, me included, he wasn't easily deterred. Attending the gala, of course, also meant risking running into Carlisle, and probably Esme too, then again maybe not, since apparently they wanted to avoid me as much as I wanted to avoid them. And I really wanted to keep my job for a while, at least until I'd taken care of Victoria. Danielle was still looking at me expectantly. "Fundraising gala," I said, "tonight. In the entrance hall."

"Great, you remember." Danielle smiled. "What are you going to wear?"

"A dress?" I offered, causing Danielle to roll her eyes at me. "What?" I asked again, although her question was justified because I didn't have a dress. I'd never needed one before. If I hadn't been preoccupied I probably would have ordered one online, just as I did everything else, but it was too late for that now, which meant I'd have to go shopping this afternoon, shopping of all things, while Victoria was out there, planning her next move.

"I'll go shopping this afternoon," I told Danielle. "I'm sure I'll find something."

Danielle raised her eyebrows again as she looked me up an down; I vaguely remembered Alice looking at me the same way, usually when she hadn't agreed with my choice of clothes. "What's wrong with my clothes?" I asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well," she said, "nothing, actually. It's just that you wear the same thing every day, which is kind of boring. How many of those blouses do you have? Five? Six?"

"A few," I allowed. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation.

"I thought so. You know what? Let me do the shopping. I'm sure I'll find something you like."

I didn't even have to think twice about her offer. I dug my wallet out of my bag and thrust my credit card at her. It fell into her lap. "Are you sure?" she asked, eye wide with surprise.

"Yes, I'm sure. Just be sure to pick something nice."

"You bet I will," Danielle replied, and a wide grin spread across her face as she picked up the credit card and put it in the pocket of her skirt.

I rolled my eyes. "Anything on the agenda today?" I asked to change the subject. Leaning back, Danielle flipped open a BlackBerry I'd never seen before. Part of her job, aside from assisting me during the autopsies, was to find out how many bodies had come in over night and how quickly their autopsy reports were needed.

"We have an old lady who's probably died of a heart attack," she told me after a while, frowning down at the tiny screen. I figured she wasn't quite familiar with her newest gadget yet. "A couple who died in a car crash two days ago, and a kid who drowned last night. Take your pick."

"Wonderful." I made a face. I was glad Victoria hadn't sent me another 'gift', but crash victims weren't exactly fun to look at, and performing an autopsy on a child, especially if it was very young, was dreadful. "Let's start with the kid," I said, and Danielle nodded unhappily. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Alright." Grabbing her BlackBerry and purse with her left hand and her dripping umbrella with her right, she got up. As she turned her gaze fell on the folder still on my desk; I should have thrown it in the trash. "Did you take a look yet?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, I did," I lied.

"Isn't he handsome?"

"He's married," I pointed out.

Danielle shrugged. "A girl can dream."

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

She shrugged again. "I do, but we've got an open relationship, so he's cool."

I'd met said boyfriend a couple of months ago, and as he'd seemed quite possessive of her it was hard to imagine he'd consent to her seeing, and sleeping with, other men. Then again it was none of my business, and I really didn't want to make it mine, so I just said, "I see," and Danielle laughed and swept out of the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum as she drifted down the hallway to her own, much smaller office. I could still hear her typing on her BlackBerry. Maybe she was texting her boyfriend. Maybe she was checking her e-mails. Danielle didn't have to worry about a vengeful vampire who wanted her dead because her ex-boyfriend had killed her lover because said lover had wanted to suck her dry, and I wished I wouldn't, either. I didn't know how to fight. I didn't know how to survive a fight. Waiting for Victoria to make her next move felt wrong, but what choice did I have? I couldn't seek her out. If I simply went after her, which was probably what she wanted, I would die. If I wanted to live through this I had to outwit her, preferably without any more collateral damage. I just didn't know how. I wasn't exactly an expert at battle strategies. I'd never thought that one day I'd be going into one.

—

Danielle was lifting the first body out of the cooling unit when I entered the autopsy room. "Let me give you a hand," I said, hurrying to help her, but she'd already pulled it out, and the figure inside the black body bag was so tiny that Danielle was able to carry it to the autopsy table with ease. I watched as she placed it gently on the cold metal surface and unzipped it, revealing the tiny body of a little girl who couldn't be older than six or seven.

"She's so small," Danielle said quietly.

"Yes," I agreed. I removed the body bag and put it aside. I wasn't particularly fond of my job, but most of the time it wasn't a problem for me to do it. It wasn't that I didn't care about the people that ended up on my table; I did care. But I also knew, better than anyone maybe, that death was an inevitable part of life, and when your time was up your time was up, but children… children, especially if they were very little, were harder. It was so very hard to accept the death of a child.

"What's her name?" I asked. I gently brushed a strand of long silver hair out of the girl's white face. Her clothes, a pair of blue jeans and a red shirt, were still damp; they smelled faintly of algae.

"Antonia Swann," Danielle said. I straightened. My hands clenched around the edges of the table, causing the metal to moan. It's a coincidence, I told myself. It's just a coincidence. She drowned, didn't she? There're probably a million people out there whose last name is Swan.

"What's the police report say?" I asked quietly. I forced myself to let go, but the metal was already dented where I'd gripped it, so I carefully brushed my thumb across the edge to smoothen out the finger-shaped impressions I had left.

"They think Antonia climbed out her bedroom window and took a stroll in the garden down to her parents' garden pond where she slipped and fell into it." Danielle shook her head. "My parents used to lock our windows when we were little. I can't believe how reckless people are these days."

I looked over Danielle's shoulder to read the rest of the report. "It's twenty degrees outside," I said slowly, "and the report says the layer of ice on the pond was almost an inch thick." I glanced at the tiny body again. I couldn't be sure without a more thorough examination, of course, but her skull seemed to be intact, and if she'd crashed into the pond with enough force to break the ice, it should have been bashed in. I didn't like where this was going. At all.

"Yes, and you know what else is strange? According to her parents Antonia was an excellent swimmer—well, for a six-year-old anyway—and the pond wasn't even that deep, so why did she drown?"

"It doesn't matter how well she could swim or how deep the pond was," I explained. "If she fell she probably hit her head and was disoriented, and even if she wasn't, we're talking about a six-year-old kid here."

"If you say so," Danielle replied, but she didn't sound very convinced. I wouldn't have been either in her place, but what was I supposed to tell her? What could I tell her? A six-year-old kid didn't just climb out her bedroom window in the middle of the night to walk around her parents' garden, and a six-year-old kid also didn't just fall into a pond which wasn't even half a foot deep and drown. Maybe I was wrong. Hell, I hoped I was, but if I wasn't I couldn't ever tell Danielle the truth.

"I say so," I replied, managing a reassuring smile. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

We were very thorough. I searched every millimetre of her body, but when I didn't find anything at all aside from the water in her lungs, I knew that Antonia's death hadn't been an accident. I knew she'd been killed, and due to the lack of evidence on her body I knew who'd done it.

It wasn't a coincidence after all.

I let Danielle put her back into the cooling unit and walked slowly back into my office where I locked myself into my bathroom. I sank down on the toilet lid, arms wrapped tightly around my chest to keep the despair at bay. Why? Why had she done it? Killing people to drink their blood was one thing, because every time Victoria fed somebody died, and it didn't really matter much who it was—to her, anyway. But she hadn't killed Antonia to feed; she'd killed her out of pure spite, because she happened to share my last name, because she wanted to send me another message. Antonia must have been so very afraid when she realised what was happening to her, when Victoria had snatched her out of her bedroom and took her to the pond to push her head underwater and force her to breathe in ice-cold water.

What did she want? Did she want me to come after her? Victoria knew I was no match for her, and if I came after her she'd kill me which was exactly why I had decided not to. Maybe she'd guessed that this was what I'd do, and that's why she'd killed Antonia—to provide better motivation. I sat up and took a deep breath. I wouldn't allow her to get to me. That's what she wanted, and I wouldn't give it to her. There wasn't anything else I could to right now, but I was sure I'd come up with a real plan soon.

And if I wasn't, then I'd just have to reconsider my options.

I unlocked the door and slipped behind my desk to check my phone again just as I heard Danielle close the door of the autopsy room. Jake still hadn't called, and I decided to take that as a good sign. I had too much to worry about already.

"You got a minute, Doc?" Danielle asked.

I looked up to find her hovering in the doorway, her face uncertain.

"Yes, of course. What is it?"

"Well…" She sat down at the very edge of the chair she'd slumped into this morning, her body rigid. Her hands were in her lap, her fingers intertwined as if to keep herself from fidgeting, but she was chewing her bottom lip, probably without even realising that she was, and I had to hid a smile, because I knew her well enough buy know to know that she wanted to talk to me but wasn't sure how to put it, usually because she didn't think I would like whatever it was very much. "It's about Antonia. No, that's not right. Actually it's about those women who were murdered," she gushed while my body went rigid. "I'm not sure if you know, but they all look like you. Well, they're not as pretty as you—nobody is as pretty as you—but they all have brown hair and pale skin. And now Antonia Swann. I may be blond, but I'm not stupid. I swear somebody's got it in for you, Dr Swan."

"I think you're overreacting," I said, forcing my lips to pull up into a smile, but it was hard, very hard. Danielle truly wasn't stupid, and I should have expected her to put the pieces of the puzzle together as well. I couldn't tell her that she was right. What would I have told her anyway? That a vampire was after me? That she wanted to tear me apart because she held a grudge? Yes, she'd certainly believe that… "Whoever's killed those women quite obviously has a problem, but I really don't think it has anything to do with me. Pale brunettes are probably just his type. And Antonia drowned because she fell into her parents' pond. I thought we'd established that. What makes you think that she was killed?"

"I'm just worried about you," Danielle said, frowning.

"I appreciate your concern," I said and I meant it, "but I'm a hundred percent sure that this guy isn't after me. I'll promise to be careful if that makes you feel better."

"Maybe you could get a dog," she suggested. "My neighbour's Great Dane just had the cutest puppies you could possibly imagine. I can give you her number."

"I'm allergic," I replied. "Really, Danielle, you don't have to worry. I'll be fine."

"If you say so," she said dubiously.

"I say so. You know what I think? I think the girl's death is getting to you. Why don't you take the afternoon off? You wanted to go shopping anyway," I couldn't help but grimace as I said this, and Danielle smiled, "and I'm sure you want to get ready for tonight."

"Yeah, maybe I should." She sighed. "I hate dead kids."

"You and me both," I told her, "you and me both."

—

Danielle dropped by a little after five to return my credit car and deliver the dress she'd bought, then she was off again to get ready for tonight. I spent the afternoon in the autopsy room to take care of the couple who'd died in a car crash last night, which took a while since I had to find out which parts—and there were a lot of parts—belonged to whom, which was a gory task but better then dwelling on whatever Victoria might have in store for me, so I showered twice before I even touched the shopping bags Danielle had left beside my desk.

She hadn't just bought a dress; she'd bought several dresses with matching shoes, a few blouses, a new coat, and even some make-up, which didn't me make look forward to my credit card bill. Don't you dare return any of it, she'd written on the bigger of the two bags with black permanent marker. I shook my head, smiling just a little, and locked the door before I slipped out of my blouse to try on the ones Danielle had bought for me. I was a bit surprised she'd gotten my size right—then again she definitely had the Alice gene, so I probably shouldn't have been—and the blouses, just as the black coat, were very pretty, and after a quick glance into the bathroom mirror I had to admit that they looked good on me, too.

I chose a strapless black dress—a balloon dress it was called, I believed; my sense in fashion hadn't exactly improved—for tonight and matching high heels, and, just to humour Danielle, even put on some make up and some grey shining nail polish. After brushing my hair, braiding it and pulling it up into a bun, about the only hair style, aside from a pony tail, I could manage, I went upstairs so I wouldn't smell of dead people again when the party began and sat down in the cafeteria, pretending to read a magazine while actually watching the preparations for the gala. The caterers had just arrived and started arranging the buffet; a hundred different smiles drifted through the open door, and I grimaced. I wasn't looking forward to that party. At least a hundred people were expected to attend the gala tonight, a hundred different perfumes, aftershaves, soaps, shampoos, hairsprays, and then sweat of course, a massive assault on my olfactory nerves. Acute senses weren't always of advantage.

At half past six the first guests began arriving. I knew most of them since they were doctors working at this hospital, and with a sigh I joined them, talking and smiling and keeping an eye on the entrance so I'd see Carlisle and Esme arrive. I planned to stay away from them as far as possible; if they didn't want to speak to me, then I wouldn't force myself on them. Henry Lambert, his wife and their daughter Jasmyne arrived at seven, all of them wearing expensive, tailored clothes. Lambert liked to show that he could afford to buy the best of the best. He took his family's coats and told them to mingle and have fun, then joined the other doctors who had gathered by the buffet which had yet to be opened. I hid behind a fake palm tree. I was so pathetic.

How long would I have to stay until it was safe to pretend to have a migraine and leave?

I snatched a glass of red wine off a waiter's tray, pretending to sip. It smelled bitter and tasted just as awful when I moistened my lip. Ugh. How could people drink this stuff? I'd never really liked wine when, not even when I was human. Alcohol and I just didn't go together.

At eight they finally arrived. I retreated further into the back of the room when I saw Carlisle and Esme step through the doors in a gust of cold air, and my eyes widened in horror as I realised they weren't alone; Edward was trailing in their wake in a black tux, looking just as unhappy as I felt. Great. As if my day hadn't been bad enough already. For a moment they just stood in the middle of the room after Carlisle had taken Esme's coat, talking quietly among themselves—to quietly even for me to overhear; I'd have to get closer which I had no intention of doing—then Lambert saw them too, and he sauntered over to greet them, a broad smile on his face.

"Carlisle, I'm great you could make it," Lambert said, extending his hand, which Carlisle took with a smile. "It's nice to see you again… Edward, right?"

"Yes," Edward replied, smiling, but his smile seemed strained; apparently he didn't want to have to be here, either. I wondered why Carlisle and Esme had made him come when he so obviously would have preferred to stay at home.

"And you, I assume, are Mrs Cullen," Lambert continued, smiling at Esme who kindly returned his smile. I snorted quietly at the expression on Edward's face. It wasn't very hard to imagine what Lambert was thinking about. Esme naked, probably. "It's very nice to meet you. Do you like Anchorage?"

"It's lovely," Esme said, and I sighed. I'd missed her too, and hearing her voice again brought back memories I thought I'd lost when I was changed. She'd always been like a mother to me. "A little cold maybe." She glanced at Carlisle, who smiled slightly. Inside joke.

"It is," Lambert agreed. "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you've decided to move here, but I have a hard time understanding why. Me, I've grown up here and so have most of the staff, but our newest addition—well, aside from you—moved up here from California. Why someone would give up all that for a place where the sun almost never shines is beyond me."

Esme and Carlisle exchanged glances, and I saw that Edward was having some difficulty keeping his expression blank. What was wrong with him? They already knew it was me, didn't they? There was no need to be worried.

"I'd love to introduce you, though. She might be able to help you, give you a couple of tips to make the transition easier. Living in Alaska can be quite challenging."

"We'd love to meet her," Carlisle said. I frowned. Edward's whole body was tense, rigid even. What was his problem?

"Miss Grey, would you please join us for a moment?" Lambert called out, and Danielle, who had just entered on the arm of her handsome boyfriend, turned her head a little so he wouldn't see her make a face. She didn't like Henry Lambert any more than I did, and she didn't like the fact that he'd repeatedly tried to hit on me, either. Handing her coat under which she wore a pale blue dress to her boyfriend, she walked over to Lambert, a sweet, and fake, smile on her face.

"Have you seen your boss?" Lambert asked.

"Not yet," she replied curtly. "I just arrived."

"Do you know if she had plans to attend?"

"I believe she had. Would you like me to tell her that you'd like to talk to her should I happen to see her?"

"No, I don't. I'd like you to find her and ask her to join us. And tell Isabella that if she wants to keep her job she'd better hurry." He all but whispered the last sentence into Danielle's ear, but I heard anyway. Esme raised her eyebrows. I could tell from her expression that so far Lambert hadn't done anything to endear himself to her. No surprise there.

I sighed. Just get it over with, I told myself. Just a few words and then you won't have to talk to them ever again. I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the plant. Just a few words, and then you can go home. I felt like a soldier going into battle. Just a few more steps. They hadn't seen me yet; they had their backs to me, and the air conditioner was on and running at full power, and I was upwind from them. A handful of guests disappeared through the doors to smoke, and a gust of snowy air blew in, causing my scent to drift directly into their direction. All of them stiffened. I froze and glanced at the doors, which were still closing. Should I make a run for it? Nobody would see me if I moved very fast.

I missed my chance. Carlisle turned, reaching out for Esme to pull her close, an affectionate gesture at first glance, but I recognised it for what it was; a concealed defensive position. I fought the urge to raise my hands as if held at gunpoint, trying to smile instead. Carlisle arm fell; he and Esme were staring at me as if I was a mirage, as if they'd expected to see anyone, just not me. Finally, Edward turned too, his face twisted with fury, and my hesitant smile vanished.

"Dr Swan," Lambert said, finally noticing me, "there you are. I'm so glad you could make it."

I didn't trust myself enough to answer, so I just smiled as I stepped closer, ignoring the confused expression on Esme's face, and the suspicious one on Carlisle's.

"How are you today?" Lambert asked, smiling—in a way which made me want to scratch his eyes out—and took my hand although I hadn't even extended it. I thought I saw Edward bare his teeth, accompanied by the deep rumble of a suppressed growl, but when I glanced at him again he was looking impassively at the paintings on the east wall of the entrance hall, and neither Carlisle nor Esme seemed to have heard it, so I'd probably imagined in. "That's a beautiful dress you're wearing."

"I'm fine, thank you." I flashed a smile, maybe showing a little too much teeth; Lambert's hand fell away and whatever he saw in my face made him retreat, if only a step. His face was calm, but his heart sped away, beating twice as fast as usual, and the sweet smell of adrenaline saturated the air. I hid a smug smile. I'd scared him. "How's your family?"

"They're fine. They're here somewhere," he replied, loosening his tie just a little and edging even further away, an unconscious reaction probably. I felt my lips twitch. He should listen to his subconsciousness more often. "I think I'll go find them. I just wanted to introduce you to Dr Cullen and his family. They just moved down here from…"

"Richmond," Carlisle supplied. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr Swan. I'm Carlisle Cullen, my wife Esme, and our son Edward."

"Pleasure," I replied curtly, not meeting his eyes. If my behaviour confused him, he didn't let on; he simply smiled instead, the warm open smile I remembered.

"A pleasure, indeed. Dr Lambert here told us that you moved down here from California last year?" Did he actually want to make smalltalk? Or did he guess from my behaviour that I'd bolt as soon as Lambert left and wanted to ask questions I had no reason—at least as far as Lambert, who was listening with apparent interest, was concerned—not to answer? Why did he care? Was he just curious?

"Yes, I did," I said. "I needed a change."

"I see you've found something to talk about," Lambert cut in, smiling brightly, revealing a row of perfect white if false teeth. "If you'll excuse me. I'm sure my wife is wondering what's keeping me."

"Danielle," I said as I watched him disappear in the host of black tuxedos and expensive evening gowns, "would you mind getting me something to eat? I haven't had a chance to grab a bite since breakfast."

"What would you like?" she asked.

"Surprise me." I wouldn't eat any of it anyway if I could help it. I had to on occasion, and I didn't particularly enjoy it, not just because of how awful human food tasted but because choking it back up later was disgusting—and that was putting it mildly.

"Alright. I'll be right back." Danielle and her boyfriend drifted off, the latter staring at us from over his shoulder for a moment, before he quietly asked her if she'd ever had a threesome. Well, he did know they had an open relationship then.

"So," I said when they were gone.

"It's been a while," Esme said eventually, a warm, even welcoming smile on her face, the same smile she'd worn the day Edward had introduced me to them. I'd been fooled then, had believed she was truly happy to see me at Edward's side; now I knew better.

"It has," I agreed in an even voice. "Look, I'm sorry Lambert made you talk to me, but I promise I won't bother you again if I can help it." I saw confusion, even shock in Esme's face as my words sank in, and she glanced first at Carlisle, then at Edward who refused to meet her eyes which made her frown ever so slightly, then back at me.

"Bella," she said slowly, "we don't want you to leave. In fact," her eyes travelled to Edward again, "we're all glad to see you."

I don't know why I lost it then. I'd never been one for tantrums, my temper almost never got the better of me, and I'd always been proud that I wasn't one of those people who didn't easily lose control. Now I did. Last week had been awful, beyond horrible, more than I could bear, and I was done with it. I didn't have to listen to their lies anymore. I wouldn't listen to them anymore. "Are you?" I spat. Esme winced. Carlisle moved to step between us again, but when Esme raised her right hand to put it against his chest, froze. Edward didn't move at all. He'd turned into a marble statue, watching on but having no part in what was happening. Esme's 'all' didn't include him, he didn't want it to include him, and it hurt, hurt so much more than any lie of Esme's ever could have. The pain in my empty chest fuelled my anger like gasoline a fire; it roared out like an angry bear.

"It's been nine years, Esme," I hissed, my body rigid, my hands marble claws at my side. "I haven't heard from you in nine years, and suddenly you're glad to see me? You didn't visit, you didn't call, you didn't write. Not even Alice came back for me. How can I believe that I ever meant something to you when you just abandoned me? How can I believe that you ever loved me? Don't you lie to me, Esme. Don't you dare lie to me!" My voice broke. I'd run out of fuel, and as my anger ebbed away to be replaced by pain again the angry bear fell silent. I'd said what I wanted to say, and now there was nothing left but pain and despair. I was alone, all alone. Forever. I blinked furiously when my eyes began to burn with tears I couldn't shed anymore, wishing I'd still be able to cry, and wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to comfort myself. I should never have come tonight. Indifference I could have dealt with, but this pretence of joy was more than I could handle.

I should have just walked away then. I didn't know what I was expecting them to say as we stood there in the middle of the entrance hall, surrounded by people who were enjoying themselves, who were smiling and laughing, were doing what I should have been doing too. Instead I was waiting for an answer I wasn't even sure I'd get, and which—if I was honest—I also wasn't sure I'd want to hear, because I couldn't deal with yet more pain. I simply couldn't.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?" Esme suggested eventually. "Carlisle would like to talk to Edward in private."

"I just want to go home, Esme," I said wearily. I felt drained, exhausted. I wanted to curl up behind my sofa and stare outside; then I remembered that my house still smelled of Edward, so going home wasn't really an option. I'd stay in my office then, would pretend to have slept there when Danielle arrived in the morning. I just wanted to be alone.

"I think we need to talk," she said gently. "It won't take long, I promise."

"Fine," I whispered. I allowed Esme to take my arm, then she led me outside, past a handful of guests who'd stepped outside to smoke and into the park behind the hospital where I sometimes ran; behind the park the forest began, and I could run almost all the way home without being seen. "Bella," Esme said when we'd disappeared into the park, where purple darkness enveloped us; the lights of the hospitals were barely visible behind the trees, "do you know why we left Forks?"

"Yes," I whispered. "You left because it was time for you to move on, and because you realised that I didn't belong in your world after all when Jasper almost killed me on my birthday. And," I swallowed; I felt as if I was choking, but I would say it out loud, had to say it out loud, "because Edward didn't love me anymore, because he was tired of pretending to be something he was not." I did start to cry then, dry sobs rocking my chest. Esme opened her arms and I flung myself around her neck despite myself.

"We left because Edward asked us to," Esme said very quietly, her hands gently moving up and down my back to comfort me. "He blamed himself for what almost happened—he's still blaming himself for it, I think—and he convinced us that it would be safer for you if we left. He asked us not to contact you, hoping that you'd forget eventually and could move on with your life."

"What?" I asked, leaning back to look into her face, to make sure she wasn't joking. "No," I said slowly. "No, he wouldn't do that…" I trailed off. Wouldn't he?

"Edward has always had control issues," Esme said quietly. "He hates feeling out of control. That's why he tends to make decisions for others, especially if he thinks it's for their own good. He thought he was doing the right thing."

"The right thing?" I whispered. I couldn't blame Edward for breaking up with me if he didn't love me anymore, because it wasn't fair of me to hold him back when there might be someone else out there for him, his soulmate; it wasn't his fault that he was mine. But he'd had no right to take his family away from me. Nine years of pain and despair, because he'd made a decision that had never been his to make.

"We've always loved you, Bella," Esme said, "and you've been part of our family since Edward told us about you, and his… decision," she hesitated ever so slightly, and I got the impression that she wanted to say something else but decided not to, "doesn't change that. I'm sorry we left and did as we were asked. We made a mistake. We know that. I love you like a daughter, Bella, and you'll always have a place with us for as long as you want it."

"Are you sure?" I whispered, unable to believe that I'd been wrong, that they did love me and always had. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I'd lost my mind after all, had gone crazy.

And maybe I hadn't.

"I am," Esme said, and I felt my lips curve up into a shy smile, the first real and heartfelt smile in years. "Welcome home, Bella."

—

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