Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Stephenie Meyer. I'm not sure I can even spell "affiliated" correctly. Anyways, the marvelous, splendiferous world of Twilight is hers.

A/N: Ok, I fixed the ending to my satisfaction. It's a little more cohesive this time around, and a little more like Edward. Even if it is Edward losing it. The changes are only in the end, because that's the part that I wrote in a bit of a hurry. And just a FYI announcement: ff's e-mail alert system doesn't seem to be working, at least for me. So I'm not ignoring you. In fact, I love to hear from readers. Para

Chapter Sixteen -- Absolution

I had felt her growing restless under the weight of my arm and saw the contortions of her face as thunder punctuated the lightning flashes. The light was somewhat dimmed by the thin curtains that hung over the window, but it was still enough to disturb her slumber. Her hands had gathered my shirt into her grasp, and her breathing was becoming more and more irregular. I was about to wake her when lightning struck again. The violence of it woke her, and a soft, desperate cry escaped her full lips and struck me to the core. It was the cry of the wounded innocent, straight from an untainted heart. Her fingers clutched at my shirt as she began shaking violently. Tremors wracked her body, and for a moment I was stunned at the scent of terror that rolled forth from her. Her name slipped from my lips breathlessly, but she never heard. Tears were now rolling from her eyes, and horror was growing in my gut. I kept talking, stringing words together that were meant to comfort, but they fell on deaf ears. Her breathing was shallow, and her heart beat dully in her breast. I pulled her to me, desperately afraid of losing her to whatever phantom her mind had conjured.

I trailed my lips over her face, wiping away the tears that lingered there, even as a new wave rushed forth from those brilliant brown eyes. "Bella, please, please, stay with me Bella. I can't lose you to this. Not you," I murmured as fear rose in my throat. A thin sheen of sweat sprang across her face and her body felt clammy, nothing like the warmth that usually radiated from her. It was almost as if she wasn't there. And I suddenly knew what Alice had meant, when she had described Bella during my absence, and a small tremor ran through my own frame

I moved my mouth to her ear, attempting in vain to draw her away from her fear. "Bella, come back to me. Anything, anything, you want, just please, tell me what's going on," I said, anxiety coloring my voice and knowing she wouldn't even hear it. Perhaps on some level she did, because her limbs relaxed marginally and the quivering of her skin began to slow. The knot that occupied the space in my chest where my lungs should have began to loosen just a little. "Bella, I'm here. It's alright. Shh, Bella, shh. You're not dreaming anymore. Please, listen to me. Tell me what's wrong," I murmured as I pulled my face back from hers slightly, watching the expressions that raced over her features. Her eyes met mine for a fraction of an instant, and the horrified expression in them caused something in my chest to twist painfully. I could only hope that I wasn't the cause of this awful dread that held her in its clutches.

"Bella, I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Tell me; tell me please what it is that is upsetting you," I begged. I had to know, had to make it right. I owed her that.

Something in her face relaxed, but she still couldn't find the words. Hesitantly, I pressed my lips to hers, desperately needing to tell her somehow that I loved her, that everything would be fine. Her mouth trembled against mine, but I could see lucidity returning to her eyes. Her pupils were still dilated, but her hands had released the fabric they had been grasping.

It couldn't be that she had thought I would leave her again, could it? The thought pierced me through the area where my heart should have been, a searing, blinding pain. Her eyes stayed on my face this time, and I saw a bit more of my Bella in her face. "I think I need to sit up," she said faintly, the tears still coursing from her eyes. I rose immediately, supporting her as she forced her body upwards into a sitting position. Her arms slid up around my neck and the warmth of her flesh flooded through me. She slumped in defeat against my chest, letting her head hang against the cool skin of my chest. I could only hope it granted her some relief: after the weeping she had done, she was bound to have a raging headache, and perhaps nausea as well.

As gently as I could, I wrapped my arms around here. A gusty sigh ripped from her lungs: to me it seemed to hold all the despair in the world. The need to know what was wrong was consuming the marrow of my bones. Tension was building in my mind, but I knew that Bella needed me to just be there, a supportive presence.

How many times in her life had she needed this, and never received it? Beautiful, brilliant angel that she was, she spent all of her time watching out for others, even her own parents. No one ever saw her stumble, fall, and then pick herself back up again, ignoring her own injuries. Oh, Bella, I thought, will you not let me be the one to catch you before you fall? I smoothed her soft hair with one hand, gently combing through the tangles. Darling Bella, the only one to have ever held such a place in my heart, let me be your strength. She said so often that she did not want to forever be Lois Lane, that she wanted her turn as Superman. She couldn't see that she was already the hero in the lives of so many, the quiet force behind the rhythm of their worlds. She had exercised her power as a savior over me as well. Because of her, I could not succumb to the mad thirst of the monster that dwelt inside me. Because of her, I had not perished under the bright sun in a square at Volterra.

"Bella…" I began hesitantly. She sobbed, a great heaving gasp that tied a knot in my vocal cords. I pulled her closer; wishing that I somehow knew what it was that had frightened her. But that was an impossibility, one that I had been forced to be grateful for because of the protection it afforded her from the minions of Marcus, Caius, and Aros.

"Bella, look at me," I said, and this time I heard the desperation in my own voice as it nearly broke. Obediently, her head rose from my chest, and I felt the spectral warmth of her fade from my body. Her eyes were squeezed shut, most likely reliving the nightmare in her head. I brushed my lips across her eyelids, trying to grant her what relief I could. I settled my forehead against hers as I studied the deep red that flushed her face and watched the muscles along her jaw line relax as shook away the phantom dream. We sat in silence, and it was a long moment before I felt her eyelashes flutter open and saw again her beautiful eyes.

"You can't…even begin to know, how good it feels, your skin on mine," she murmured. Her voice sounded raw and throbbed with emotion.

"And you can't even begin to know… exactly how terrified I am at this moment," I answered. And I wasn't lying.

I could see the confusion in her eyes. I sighed: the memories that went with the explanation I was going to have to deliver were painful to us both, and an eternal wellspring of guilt for me. "Right now, I'm just praying that I'm not the cause of all this and that it has nothing to do…with anything before our whirlwind tour of the Tuscan countryside." I let a wry smile cross my face, but it wasn't genuine and slid off like butter over a hot griddle.

Her shocked expression informed me otherwise. "No, not you, never you. Not since…not since Italy." Her eyes avoided mine, and it was obvious that she didn't want me questioning what her nightmares had been about in that particular space of time. I settled for a different question: "Then who?"

Her gaze was still fixed somewhere down around my chin as she bit her bottom lip: a sure sign of reluctance. Her eyes flickered to mine, and she must have seen something there because she suddenly let a pair of names slide over her tongue.

"Jacob Black. And Sam Uley's fiancée, Emily."

I growled, deep in the recesses of my throat. Her head snapped back viciously and the muscles at the corners of her eyes were strained. I felt those soft hands fall from their perch on the back of my neck like wounded doves, shot by a merciless hunter. I dropped my own arms immediately, backing away, afraid of throwing her back into the grasp of whatever dream it was that had caught her mind. Her expression was guarded, and I was reminded again of the impregnable wall between her thoughts and me. Sometimes I could conjecture, but it was never enough, especially not now when I was utterly helpless. And so stupid. Everything I did was undeniably wrong. "Bella… I'm so sorry. I never meant to scare you," I said, scrubbing one hand through my hair. Good God, I was such a fool. It didn't matter what I had meant to do, it was what I had done. Just when I thought I was under control, I went and did something to upset her. If she became… hysterical again, it was only my fault. I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand, staring down at the quilt on the bed, cursing myself for seven types of a fool as the hush grated on my ears. My extensive background in foreign languages wasn't enough fodder for the colorful epithets I was giving myself. There wasn't a single word, or even combination of words, harsh enough to describe my insensitivity. And still, that silence that hung in the air like chloroform.

Why wasn't she saying anything? I wanted to beg, plead for her to forgive me, stupid beast that I was. The silence was tearing through my sanity, destroying whatever peace I possessed. My mind was beyond pleading, and something inside screamed: Speak, Bella, say something! A few more moments of this, and I would probably lose whatever claim I had on sanity.

I felt one warm hand on my shoulder, a glowing sun to the man dying in the depths of night. Her familiar pulse throbbed against the cold stone of my flesh. My gaze whipped up to meet her own: the compassion and love I saw there made me tremble. Forgiveness was written across her face, plain even for me to see, the blindest of the blind.

Bella, sweet Isabella. The procurer of my absolution.