Disclaimer: See last chapter. And the chapter before. And the chapter before that. And... I think you get the idea.
A/N: I know some of you are really looking forward to Bella's explanation of the dream to Edward, and I promise it will be forthcoming, in the next chapter in fact. Just not this one. This got a little... fluffy. And anyways, you already read what Bella saw, and this way the next chapter will be from Edward and you get to see what's going through his mind. Ok, anyways, I'm rambling again. Go forth, read and review!
Chapter Seventeen --Reconciliation
I had recoiled away from Edward in the instant that I felt his chest rumble, heard the smooth angry growl roll in his throat. He was sitting half-way across the bed, back to me before I even knew it. Just like that, when I needed him most, he could be so far away from me, give me up so easily. Then remorse for my thoughts surged through me relentlessly as I realized why he had backed away so quickly. His words echoed through my head again: "And you can't even begin to know… exactly how terrified I am at this moment… Right now, I'm just praying that I'm not the cause of all this." He couldn't have known that I would have reacted that way to something so little as growling, but he blamed himself anyways. Still, I didn't move, as I didn't know what his current state was, but I could recognize the black mood that had descended. I hated seeing him like this.
His eyes flickered to mine. A new wash of pain colored his features, and I wished again that my face wasn't so easy for him to read, and so easily misunderstood. Why couldn't he see that the pain wasn't caused by him, it was for him, for what he did to himself? His voice interrupted my thoughts, the voice of a fallen angel, ragged with remorse.
"Bella… I'm so sorry. I never meant to scare you," he whispered. One hand moved to his hair, turning the bronze locks into glorious disarray. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, probably with more than enough force to turn human bones to dust. The beauty of him, this broken Atlas that still held up my world, that loved me, was enough to heal whatever the nightmare had broken. It wasn't his perfect form that had caught my heart; it was everything behind that statuesque exterior. And sometimes, he seemed so vulnerable, this deity of the ancient world. He allowed me to be his weakness. And, sometimes, he allowed me to grant him strength.
I moved across the bed slowly, settling myself next to his side on the end of the bed and shuffling my bare feet nervously on the floor. He was so absorbed in guilt that he didn't even notice my presence until I placed one warm palm against his cold shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had ceased trembling. His head rose with inhuman grace, eyes full of piercing sadness. My heart wept for him, even as my blood sang for him.
A single tremor swept through the muscle under my fingers. In that short instant, something in his face changed. I smiled, a bit sadly I suppose, and we sat in silence for a moment longer. Words no longer seemed necessary to me. Edward draped one arm around my waist, seeming to feel the need to be closer to me. To say that I didn't need him, desperately, would be blasphemy. I laid my head on his shoulder, feeling intensely weary. Terror had sapped the marrow from my bones and melted the little muscle that I did have. Edward laid a single kiss softly on the top of my head, and I tilted my head back to see his face. He allowed himself to smile: a small twitch of his lips into that crooked smile that I loved best. I could feel a similar expression on my own mouth, and it felt wonderfully good after everything else that had happened on this stormy night. His smile grew in response, and he kissed the end of my nose with an expression similar to humor in his eyes. I laughed, one low throaty chuckle rising from my lungs. His lips grazed mine lightly, hungrily, and still hesitantly. A wicked smile crossed my face, and I pushed my mouth against his. I could feel my heart thudding erratically in my chest, and I was dimly aware that I wasn't breathing anymore as he responded, and for a long moment I was convinced there was nothing worth living for if moments—and brilliant, mind-numbing kisses—like this didn't exist.
As always, Edward broke away first, reluctance showing in every feature. He let himself fall onto my bed, feet still hanging off the edge and left arm draped over his face. The movement of his chest was barely perceptible, but seemed much faster than usual, moving up and down almost as quickly as my own. "I've said it before, Bella, and I'll say it again now: You'll be the death of me, I swear you will," he said, but a smile graced his lips. The words barely made sense through my spinning head, but they made me smile anyways. I let myself fall next to him, settling myself into the crook of his right arm. Feeling particularly daring, I lifted his arm to see those beautiful brown eyes that he was hiding. He obligingly allowed me to do so, even turning his head to look me full in the face. "If I may remind you, you are already dead, and you will not be permitted to do any further dying, as you are my life, my dearest love," I said, lifting my eyebrows archly. He laughed softly and wrapped his arms securely around me. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my darling Bella," he answered.