December 24th 2027

"Oh, but it looks so beautiful outside," Esme coaxes, gesturing to the window, "just come out for a bit. I don't want to leave you alone."

"Yeah," Alice adds, "it's snowing. It'll be fun."

I casually glance at the window, admiring the softness of the falling snow even though I already know my answer. "It's okay," I tell them, "you go...have fun. I kind of want to stay in today." Esme steps around the coffee table, and sits down next to me, plucking the book from my hands.

I smile at her persistence. "Esme."

"Bella," she replies. I fold my arms across my chest, and purse my lips, unwavering in my decision to stay in and read. "Fine," Esme relents, handing me the book, "but as long as you're sure you don't want to come out with us, even for a little while?"

"I'm positive," I assure her.

With a sigh, she leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, slyly murmuring, "And you're not avoiding me because of what happened-"

"No," I interrupt her, "God no. I promise."

She chuckles, "Just wanted to make sure."

Satisfied I won't change my mind any time soon, Esme leaves with Alice, Jasper, and Carlisle to go for a walk around the city. I flip open my book, thumbing through the pages until I find the one I was on before Esme's good half hour distraction. I settle in and read for a while, losing myself between the lines, the quasi-love triangle, the passion the main character has for his lover.

The intimacy.

He sweeps his lips down my throat, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin near my collarbone. His tongue is warm – precise – mapping out the slight dips, the contour of my chest, the valley of my breasts; his fingers are just as active, pressing into my stomach, then my hips, curving beneath my naked thighs.

I reach the bottom of the page, unable to remember a single line of what I just read.

I blink at the last word, and let my eyes travel back up to the top.

He gasps when I gently nibble on the smooth, defined lines of his stomach, rubbing frenzied circles into the back of my shoulders. Another gasp and he clutches my hair instead, brushing it from my face, curling it around his fingers, watching as my lips slowly outline the deep set muscle hear his hips.

Halfway down the page, I lose my place again.

I find myself re-reading the same sentence twice.

Three times.

"You're so beautiful," he says in a breathless whisper, "so beautiful."

I lean down to kiss him, cupping his jaw in my hands, tracing every part of his face I can, remembering...memorizing. His palms mould to my lower back, compelling my body closer to him, leaving nothing between us but bare skin, the electricity of his touch.

When I hit the halfway mark for the second time, I give up; I toss the book onto the table.

It's so hard to take a breath – to breathe and feel at the same time – I almost forget to do so. The entire length of him fills me, stretching me, causing my legs to tremble and my fingers to sink into the sinewy muscles of his back. He presses his forehead to my shoulder, exhaling, practically quivering with the exertion, struggling to hold himself up.

"Bella," he groans, "I can't..."

I rub my fingers over my lips, staring absently at the painting on the wall, the swirl of colours blending and mixing, creating something I can't recognize or focus on.

I clutch the sheet in my fists, tightening my grip until I'm sure my knuckles are white and strained, until the pleasure of him being inside me overwhelms the cramp in my hands. He staggers kisses along my cheek and throat, breathing hard between pecks, groaning with each impressive plunge of his hips. With one hand, he braces himself against the headboard, resting the other near my shoulder, and I twist my leg around his calf, drawing it up the back of his thigh, provoking a deeper angle.

Eliciting a feeling so consuming and intoxicating it makes me moan.

Loud.

His lips quickly cover mine, and he whispers a laboured, "Shh," before he lets out a shaky laugh. "Really don't want my mom walking in on this."

I smile, letting my fingers drift over my collarbone. They travel up, tracing the spot on my neck I've been attempting to hide the outrageous hickey he so willingly gave me in the heat of the moment; the one I so willingly let him give.

I'm so invested in my fantasy – my recollection – I barely register the opening and closing of the front door.

"Hey," Edward remarks, "what are you doing here all by yourself?"

After my eyes deglaze and fixate on the painting, what I've been apparently staring at, they find Edward. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold outside, and his auburn hair is a static mess, flattened to his forehead on one side, sticking up on the other. He smiles as he takes off his coat, and instead of answering, I watch him.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about him.

"You okay?" he asks, draping his jacket onto the coffee table. He slips in beside me on the couch, and with the shameless scenes of the night before running through my mind, I sit up, startling him with a ravenous kiss. I grip him by the collar of his shirt, tugging him down until I can feel the delicious pressure of his weight on top of me.

"Mmm," I murmur against his lips, "I'm great."

.

.

I stand at the bedroom window, and curl my arms around myself, looking out over the darkened city below, the streets that are dotted every so often with battery-powered lanterns. They're more or less vacant, trodden only by armed officers doing their hourly rounds, guns slung over the back of their shoulders; unused.

My eyes follow the line of the perimeter, the solid walls of the compound, until I can no longer see where the boundary ends and the night begins. Although nothing so far has been able to get through these walls, the threat of what could, the threat of walkers...it still haunts me.

Every day.

My mind wanders more often than I care to admit, conjuring up scenarios, infecting my thoughts with things I would pay to forget.

I scrambled backward on my hands and feet, slipping, scraping my skin with every painful, scurried movement away from the walker. It persists toward me, its dilapidated hands groping for my feet, dragging the rest of its broken body along with it. I see the trail of blood and gore it leaves on the pristine, white floor in its wake, and then it begins bubbling, melting the tiles until there's nothing left but an ashy pit of nothingness.

My eyes dart away from the dust and smoke, finding the eyes of the walker – dull...empty – and before I can do anything to stop it, the walker shifts; mutating and distorting, moaning in anguish.

Instead of a nameless, faceless creature, the thing begins to change. It twists its neck, looking back at me with the face of Jacob.

It keeps crawling, and with the unexpected sobs wracking my body, I can barely keep up. I can barely get away.

Suddenly, it changes again.

This time it's Jasper.

My arms give out, and it grabs hold of my ankle with the opportunity, stopping me, tugging me toward it.

And then it changes.

First into Emmett...then to Alice.

The ache in my chest deepens, and I can no longer breathe – no longer think.

It hovers over me, Alice's warped face changing again, showing me Esme, before it finally mutates into...

I shake the dream from my thoughts, hating how real it felt, how the sight of their faces is ingrained in my mind. Seeing them like that, the people I love...undead...it was more than enough to scare me awake, and even upset me enough to go check on my family to make sure they were all still alive.

Still breathing.

I look back at Edward, sprawled out comfortably on the bed, his perfectly handsome face flushed with colour and life. I smile at his slumbering form, remembering our night together, the way he touched me, his soft and whispered words of affection, the barely audible confession of I love you echoing in the darkness.

I bite my lip, and tear my gaze away from him, looking out over the city instead, journeying past the compound walls and into the void of space beyond. Even though I know what's out there, I no longer dread it in the way I used to. Sure, the threat is still very real – the fear of invasion plagues me every day – but the lights I see below, the city I live in...it fills me with hope.

Hope that someday we can begin to rebuild something normal in this world, a life we control. A life I can live that's not ruled by fear or uncertainty – one I can live with Edward.

I hear a rustling of sheets behind me, and turn slightly to the sight of Edward as he crawls out of bed, drowsy and stumbling; so humbly adorable I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. He pads over to me, and protectively drapes his arms around my waist, holding me against him while he rests his chin on my shoulder.

"Can't sleep?" he asks his voice groggy.

I place my hands over his and twine our fingers, shaking my head. "I had a nightmare," I confess, "it woke me up." I lean my entire body into him, yawning, "And then I started thinking about...things."

He gently kisses my shoulder, and rubs his hands over my stomach. "Things," he repeats, "good things I'm hoping?"

A single tear slips down my cheek, and I hastily brush it away. "Yeah," I tell him with a small smile, "it's hard to forget the bad things, but...there is so much I love about my life now." I twist in his arms, looking up into his eyes. "I think about all of it," I admit softly, "how life works, how I met all these wonderful people, how I...fell in love when everything seems so hopeless." I turn back around, gazing out the window again. "It makes me wonder if I ever would have met you," I continue in a near-whisper, "what my life would be like if this had never happened."

His soft lips meet my neck this time, and he sighs. "Those are the good things," he says in assurance, "the amazing things. Life rarely makes sense...and this? It's no different, it's chaotic and random, and to be honest, kind of incredible." His voice is deep and gritty, and I lose myself in it. "Like fate or something," he breathes in my ear, "I can't imagine you not being in my life now."

I smile, tilting my head to rest my cheek against his. "Me neither," I tell him.

We stand there for a long time, enjoying the silence, the peace and quiet that seems to spread out over the city. I follow Edward's train of thought, thinking about the remarkable things in my life – the people I love and want to live for – and not the things that make each day a struggle for us.

I want to think about the things that make me happy.

Eventually, once I'm almost sure Edward has fallen asleep on my shoulder, I murmur, "What happens now?"

With a soft exhale, Edward gathers me in his arms and carries me back to bed. "We live," he replies confidently, "and we don't think about what's out there every second of the day." He sets me down and climbs in next to me, cradling me close to him. "It will never be easy, Bella, but I don't want to waste all my energy on something I have no control over when I can spend my time with people I love instead. We make the best of each day."

I nestle my face into the crook of his neck, and hum in agreement. "You're right," I consent, "I just have to get used to it, I guess...learn to relax, maybe."

"I can help with that," he responds teasingly. I giggle when his hands lightly skim my arms, then the small sliver of exposed skin near my hip. I squirm briefly at his feather-light touches, settling only when he relents and simply holds me.

"Hey," he says softly, "I'm not sure if it's tomorrow yet or not, but..."

"What is it?" I prompt when he grows quiet.

"Merry Christmas, Bella."

I close my eyes; content.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

THE END