A/N: This chapter just flowed the other night, so I had it beta-ed yesterday, by my "rawesome" lady Taylor'sLizzie, so I hope that you enjoy!

I've been getting some fantastic comments, but I know there are those of you out there still not reviewing! (insert sad face here). Please let me know that you're enjoying it!

BTW – the italics in the first person tense are Bella's thoughts. The regular font, of course, is back to the third person tense the way the rest of the story has been.

And I know that I don't call either Jake or Bella by name in this chapter, but it just seemed to fit her state of mind.

Sometimes I'm a selfish fake
You're always a true friend
And I don't deserve you
'Cause I'm not there for you
Please forgive me again
I wanna be there for you
Someone you can come to
Runs deeper than my bones
I wanna be there for you
I wanna be there for you…

Flyleaf – "There for You"

I no longer felt like I was sleeping, but my body knew it wasn't awake. I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me, and his smile made me smile too. He was beautiful, and a warm blush crept across my cheek; I felt ridiculously blind for not having noticed it before now. I had been stupid, I had known that... But I almost wondered if it mattered, now – because he loved me too. And wasn't that the most important thing?

I wanted to say something to him, but my mouth wouldn't open – there were no words. What we felt was too pure, too perfect, to be tainted by the messy act of speech.

It was easier to just to feel.

He leaned closer to me, and I realized that he was going to kiss me. And I swore to myself that this time, I wasn't going to stop him. I craved him, and my skin felt alive simply because he was near me. His warmth was irresistible, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as he moved towards me. My body hummed in anticipation, and I never could have imagined feeling this way – and he had yet to even touch me.

His mouth was hot, soft and better than I could have ever imagined. His lips were full, plump; had I been capable of it, I might have moaned, so overwhelmed by the taste of his skin against mine. His flavor had an ethereal quality, and I realized that if sunshine was edible, this is how it would have tasted. He touched me delicately, as if I would break, but I could still feel the passion – it was palpable in his fingertips as they grazed my cheek. He was warm, so warm, and I was dizzy with the effort it took to keep from swallowing him whole. I felt the strange desire to crawl inside of him, like I could live there forever, and never run the risk of actually losing him.

My world felt fuzzy and soft, liquid around the edges, and I wondered briefly if I was in heaven. But the heat of his mouth on mine told me that I was someplace much, much better.

He was a part of me now – this was a fact I could no longer refute. I had lived in a state of denial for so many years, believing that I could actually talk myself out of loving him. Why I had been so afraid of my feelings for him, I could never explain – it was as easy as breathing. It was natural, instinctive, and he held a larger piece of my heart than I had ever given him credit for.

It was easy to trick myself into thinking I had been in love with someone else. It's harder to admit the truth than it is to live a lie. I had believed that truly giving yourself over to another person meant exposing your very essence to vulnerability – that if I simply kept my soul hidden away in some secret box in the deep recesses of my body that I would never have to feel the pain of loss.

But I had been wrong.

He had been patient, despite his occasional outbursts that I suppose were meant to be convincing. But he had never given up, had never forgotten about me, no matter how much my actions had hurt him. I had wanted to believe that I didn't deserve him, that I should spend the rest of my life in atonement for the pain that I had caused him, but he refused to see it that way. He thought me beautiful, and the more times I heard him say it, the more I began to believe that it might actually be true.

I had fought him, for most of my life. Fought against his warmth, his love, and the unavoidable truth of our destiny. But he was my one constant,, when nothing else was, even when we were miles apart. I had counted on him somehow, although it was not a concept that I could ever explain in words. I had always loved him. Before we had met, when we were simply tantalizing sparks of light on the subconscious of our mothers, I had loved the thought of him, the very existence of what could be him, and I was grateful that my brain had finally accepted what my heart had always known.

I had wasted so much time, in trying to pretend. I could only hope that he would understand - that I had just been afraid. Afraid of the depth of my love for him – it had just seemed too easy. To love the same boy since birth. Our fathers made no secret of the fact that they were dying for us to be together, that we had been destined since the womb. Our mothers used to joke that they should have arranged our marriage then – that it would have made it easier on everyone. He had known it all along – I had not.

He had been the only right thing in all that I had done. I could barely look at him, because every time our eyes met, I knew that we'd make it anywhere, through anything, despite what life threw our way. He was an endless beam of light, and it was natural, authentic. I felt him in each heartbeat, his love giving me the power to survive when my body wanted nothing more than to surrender to the pain.

He healed me, made me whole. The only thing stopping me from feeling this utter and whole satiation was…

Myself.

He never tried to tell me what to do, how to feel, who to be… he called me honey, gave me the most affectionate, tightest, best hugs that could ever be imagined, and he kissed the top of my head. He made me feel happy, free, and like the teenager I was supposed to be, rather than the role of old woman that I had been playing. He was genuine, reliable, and the epitome of warmth. Had I never reached out and actually touched the silky steel of his skin, I might have believed I'd only dreamed him up. Sure, he had a temper, but it was offset by his passion for the ones he was loyal too. I'd tentatively placed myself in the category, but I should have known that he had put me there long before I'd even considered wanting a place in it. He knew me better than I knew myself, and while that thought should have made me feel exposed, it only made me feel more confident in his love. He was sensual, confident, buoyant, and he made me feel the same when I was with him. It was easy to be with him, to remember that I didn't need to drown in him just to love him.

"Bella…" There was a choked gasp, and she felt his warm tears against her cheeks, but her eyelids ached.

Solid weights held her eyes closed, and she wished she could comfort him somehow. Her body felt frozen, practically paralyzed. So instead she found herself listening to the steady hiss of his breath against her neck, the constant thump of his heartbeat on his ribcage, and enjoying the warmth of his body as he covered her torso with his own.

"Please don't go," he mumbled, and the words were agonizing, heart-breaking. He sounded defeated, and she felt her chest constrict in pain to think of him so broken. She wanted him to know that she believed in him, knew how strong he was, but her throat was tight, dry, hollow.

"I can't survive without you," he continued, and his voice seemed hoarse from crying. "If there was anything I could do, to turn back time, to get to you sooner, to somehow save you from this. I feel like I've failed you, and I hate myself for it. I was supposed to be more than this for you." He sighed, and she felt another hot tear fall on her skin. It was so warm that she almost wondered if they were searing her flesh, burning her with the pain they contained.

"I know that I couldn't have prevented this…. Aneurysm…" his tongue was thick around the words, and he coughed, choking on the bitter bile in his throat. "But I could have stopped you from getting in the car that day." He sighed. She felt him shift against the bed, and imagined him running a large hand through his ragged hair. "But I was too angry, too pissed at the leec- Edward that I couldn't let go of the wolf long enough to think about what it was doing to you… And I'm sorry. I should have been a better friend than that."

She wanted to rise up off the bed at that moment, smack him, shake him, angered by his idiocy. Didn't he know? Didn't he realize? It was all her fault, just like always. She had used him, taken and taken and taken, her typical modus operandi, and he gave and gave and gave. She was selfish, and had practically ruined him in the process. She had been foolish to leave, irrational to think that running away to other side of the world and putting herself in more danger was a good solution to all of her problems. She had walked out on him, abandoned him when he had been the most vulnerable to her actions, and she had done nothing to apologize upon her return.

But her own body betrayed her, and she was forced to lay there, motionless, while her heart screamed at her to do something, to save this man from his own guilt.

There was no one to blame for the car accident that day. And it hadn't created the problem – these issues had been hot and thick and terrible between them long before those moments. Despite the pain and suffering that had been caused by the amnesia, she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. She was finally awake, aware of the world around her, and the deeply entrenched emotions that she had kept so carefully hidden.

She wanted him to know, wanted to shout it for anyone to hear – that she could finally love Jacob Black the way she was meant to. There could be no more hiding, no more waiting, and she was sick and tired of being the one that hurt him, that one that caused him to believe he was less of a man.

"I was wrong, I know that now," he sniffed, and she hated herself for allowing him to feel so much pain. "I just hope that one of these days… we can talk about all of this. Work it all out. You deserve more than what that bloodsu- Edward and I have put you through. I should have never demanded that you make a choice like that. It wasn't fair of me, and I know that now. I love you too much to hurt you, and I want you to know that it's going to be different now – that I'm going to be different." She felt him lean closer, his lips against her ear. "I willbe the man that you deserve, Bella, if it's the last thing that I do," he whispered fiercely.

If she thought she had known anguish before, she had been wrong.

If she had control over herself, she would have screamed, she would have cried. Her shoulders would have shuddered with body-wracking sobs, and her chest would have ached with the effort. Tears would have streamed down her face until her eyes had swollen shut, her lungs tight from the harsh weeping. He was wrong, so wrong, and he didn't even know it. He had saved her, in every sense of the word, and now she was terrified that she would never be able to tell him just how much she loved him.

"And even if you don't… choose me… I want you to be happy. But please, Bells, for everyone's sake, don't die…" His voice broke, and the whisper of his sobs echoed in her brain, scorching every angle of her heart with his intense sorrow. "Not now, not later… You deserve a long, happy, healthy life… and if I only had the strength, I would walk out of this room right now, so that you could be free, away from all of this insane supernatural bullshit." She heard him sigh again, and his weight shifted again, moving his lips from her ear to her cheek.

He was so close, if only her lips could travel those few millimeters to his…

"But I can't," he murmured morosely. "I may be an Alpha werewolf, but I'm sure as hell not strong enough to leave you. I'll be your friend, I'll be your very best friend, I'll be anything that you want me to be, just don't…" his voice trailed off, and she felt his chest quiver with a gentle chuckle. "I feel like I did when we were little, me begging you not to leave and go with Renee to Arizona. I crossed my heart, pinky swore, flat-out pleaded with you not to go…" he huffed out another soft, sweet breath, and she felt dizzy as its saccharine scent drifted into her nostrils. "I wanted to be angry with you, after you were gone… but my small little eyes just cried themselves to sleep every night for weeks. It was the worst pain I had ever felt until… well, 'til my mom…"

"I miss her so much sometimes, Bells… Billy is great to talk to, and all, he always has good advice, but when I need girl advice, the only woman I can think of is Emily, and you know, her and Sam…" he groaned a little, and she imagined that he was rolling his eyes. "I don't know… it's just not the same, you know?"

He continued to talk, but it began to sound fuzzy around the edges, far away. She felt the panic rise up in her stomach, in tight, torturous knots, and she fought it, fought to stay with him, here, in the now, but it gently tugged on her until his voice faded away…

I thought of my father, a man that I couldn't help but adore. I was a lot like him, and in that moment, I was grateful to have inherited his awkwardness, his loyalty and his inability to communicate. I hadn't always appreciated his love for me the way that I should have, nor paid attention to him when he had done his best to teach me about the ways of the world.

He had told me once, after… after-after, when I had been broken, when I thought my heart would never be able to heal, that I needed to learn to love what was good for me… well, now I was sure, so sure, that I hadn't neededto learn anything – it was already right in front me. What was good for me was here, and he was real, and beautiful, and…human.

It had never occurred to me what an important attribute that might be. But I hadn't actually wanted to be a vampire – all I had actually wanted was to escape from myself. I believe now that my mother and father's lack of a relationship had effected more than I had ever dared to believe – and I wanted to be angry with them for messing me up, for teaching me to stay away from the man I loved, but there was no point now. I didlove him, and as soon as I was able, I would start over, make it up to him…

"Bella?" She heard his voice again, and had she been able, she might have swooned. Just his voice did things to her. She wanted to answer, desperately. But instead she lay there immobile, confused, and her revelation about her feelings were more than frightening.

"I wish you could hear me…" he whispered mournfully. "I'm doing all this talking, and it doesn't mean a thing."

Oh, it does! It does! She wanted to scream at him.

She heard him take a deep, shaking breath, and for the first time, she realized that he was afraid. "Bells… I should have told you a long time ago… but I didn't. I couldn't. I didn't want things between us to change… well, I did, but I didn't want it to be for the wrong reasons. I wanted you to be with me because you wanted to be, and not because of some spooky woo-woo wolf shit." It made her nervous to hear him nervous, and she wished she could twist her fingers into the sheets, twitch her foot, anything to relieve her anxiety.

"I imprinted…" it shot from his lips with in fierce gasp. If she hadn't been paralyzed inside her own mind, she might have literally fallen apart. Her heart sputtered inside her chest, and her lungs felt frozen in place. Her brain screamed for oxygen and she fought a raging internal battle to keep the hot tears hidden under her eyelids.

"On you, Bells…" She felt his hand on her cheek, and she nearly whimpered in relief. But then confusion washed over her. How was that even possible? Wouldn't I have known?

"I know that doesn't make much sense to you," he continued softly, and one large finger drifted from her temple down her face, stroking the corner of her mouth,. "And I'm surprised I was able to hide it so well… from everyone." He laughed, but it sounded bitter and acerbic. "No one knew, not even Sam…" He trailed off then, and she felt an itch in her fingertips, begging with her body to let them touch his immaculate bronze skin.

"And now you know how much I love you," he said, his voice still low and quiet, full of sadness and heavy with grief. "I can take solace in the fact that now you know you love me, too. That's all I needed to know, Bells." He stroked her hair, softly, brushing away the snarls she knew surrounded her face. "I promise I can make you happy… if you just get me a chance. But…" His breath blew out in a huff, and it tickled her cheek. In another lifetime, it would have been comforting. "I understand… if you don't choose me. And… and you don't have to, so no pressure, Bells, I promise."

With him, it was all about feeling. There was no need to think – I had done enough of that in my lifetime, and it had led me in the wrong direction too many times. I was ready to take the plunge, to be free, to be happy, as I had always wanted. I hadn't been prepared before – don't ask me why. It's one of those things that I don't think I would ever have the answer for. I needed to be in a place where I could accept myself for who I actually was – perhaps I needed a slightly unhealthy, unbalanced relationship to teach what I should have been looking for all along – I was just lucky enough that the guy to show me the right way had been waiting in the wings for me.

I had been taught that I was fragile, and that I needed someone in my life to take care of me, as if I were not capable of it on my own. But he had shown me differently – that I was strong, that I was brilliant, and that I could make my own choices, and survive long enough to live with the consequences. He had not drugged me with ideas and promises of mystical faraway lands that didn't really exist – he gave me breath, sunshine, and life.

With him I realized that I did not need to be coddled, or taken care of, although I was sure there would be times in the future where he would find the need to do both – but not because I required it, but simply because I desired it. I had often found myself wondering if it was true: this concept of soulmates. Now I knew – I was just a part of the puzzle, and he was simply the other piece, the other half to our whole.

I used to think that he needed someone stronger than me. Someone that could be the right kind of mate for an Alpha male. His aggression surprised me, his dominance aroused me, and his confidence scared me. I didn't think that I could be the kind of woman that he needed, but his endless determination to prove me wrong was beginning to have an effect on me…

His tongue played lightly with my lower lip, and I gasped, his intense heat bringing me out of my debilitating thoughts. It was almost like a burning agony, this slow, sensuous kiss. But it was him, just like everything else had been. His heat slid through my veins like molten lava, melting my insides until I was completely pliable in his competent hands. I was putty, I was supple, and I would have been happy to do whatever he wanted.

I opened my mouth with a sigh, begging for his entrance, and he did not disappoint. He lapped languidly along the inside of my teeth, and I felt a searing ache in my chest; I recognized the fire of his name, as it was branded across my heart…

I am what he is, and he is what I've always dreamt of becoming. I have not been the best person. I have been selfish, misdirected and clumsy more times that I would ever care to admit, but he has forgiven me my mistakes, and I have struggled to accept that I deserve such love. He is without definition, without equal. I would never find a better man if I lived a thousand years.