A/N: For the record, new readers, this was in no way based on Breaking Dawn. The entire plot was set out before I even set about reading the book. This is a short chapter, I figured I'd throw it out here for you all, seeing how I haven't updated in ages. I'm trying to rework the last few chapters so they don't suck...which they do...for now. Sorry reviews will inspire me. Feel free to message me with your ideas and opinions, too.

It was a year, he thought. It must have been just under a year. One year of living with the woman he loved, months of her slow adjustment to her body, her thirst, her skills. A year of remembering, slowly but surely, her life, from her childhood forward. It was blurry and vague, but she didn't care too much. She was a little preoccupied with a new array of senses and sensations to bother with things gone. After all, she hadn't left any friends or family of any value to her behind, as far as she could tell, so she had nothing worth remembering.

They had moved north, far into Canada, in the meantime. Edward recalled processing Callie's papers. She had died due to complications after childbirth, as did the child. Carlisle signed off on this, easily persuading his colleagues and lawyers. It wasn't so uncommon. Nate was filed as a disappearance, an implied suicide due to the loss of his sister.

At the false funerals, Edward met Callie's parents. They didn't cry at the closed caskets. Kids from the high school came, naturally, with the false pretense of caring about their lost classmate. Edward had wanted to shake all of them and scream in their faces, just for their lies, remembering how they had treated his love like a pariah during her pregnancy. His control came from the knowledge that Callie was still alive and well... well, not alive. But well.

Callie was pristine in comparison to most newborns. She very easily saw the truth in others and at the same time, the truth in herself. She knew very well what she was and what she wanted to be, what she would regret later on. Humans were no temptation, really. It was like opting for water instead of wine; of course wine tasted better, but she wouldn't get drunk on water.

Edward was at her side quite constantly. Emmett had followed Rosalie. Alice watched out for both of them, and Jasper had been putting all of his efforts into calming Esme ("Of course they'll come back," he murmured, when his powers weren't enough). Sophie had become something of a secret; the Cullens were unwilling to bring it up. Callie knew something was being withheld, but not what it was. She didn't notice the patch of emptiness in her heart, thinking it had come with the vampirism, maybe, like all the space in her mind. While she was changing, Jasper had stripped the nursery and ridded it of the contents.

Callie had daydreams, like visions almost, of her daughter. Edward did what he could to dismiss them, hoping that this would be remedied either by Rosalie's return or by the maturing of Callie and Nate both; after all, the Cullens could not attack the Quileutes without their entire coven, not with the recent hike in numbers that the werewolves experienced.

Nate, meanwhile, was a little harder to handle. Carlisle speculated that males usually were. Stronger than all of them, especially without Emmett there, it took three of them to hold him back, or his sister had to be involved. Their bond was not broken by death or this strange rebirth. He didn't remember his neice, either, luckily. It was easier to hide it, in case Sophie was never recovered, then to pile this on their psyches unnecessarily. This is how the Cullen family rationalized their secret.

The secret was carefully kept until Rosalie came home, Emmett at her side.

The image of her daughter came rushing back to Callie; dusty, dark images of her daughter's birth and her name and her abduction right as Callie faded from life. She recalled as Rosalie sped after Leah into the woods, and she counted on her fingers the time.

It all passed through her mind in a second, like a fantasy, almost. "My daughter?"

Rosalie shook her head. Emmett grimaced. Callie saw the truth in their eyes. The werewolves had her daughter still, safe-guarded by at least four of them at a time, as well as a thick collection of shotguns and a constantly threatening circle of fire. The couple had attempted an attack, barely escaping with their bodies intact.

Edward recalled the fight. He remembered Emmett tying them up as he ran towards Callie. When Rose took off, it wasn't long at all before Emmett's priorities had shifted. If only he had stayed…

Edward didn't blame Emmett, though, of course. They were all quite busy saving Callie and Nate, which was more important than keeping a pile of werewolves bound up.

Callie bit her lip, a tendency she had retained from her human years. She nodded her thanks to them, then retreated to her room.

They were welcomed home heartily, but for the bad news.

Amidst the celebrations of a family rejoined, Nate slipped away to find his sister.

"How you doing, Cal?" His slang sounded strange in conjunction with his slippery-smooth voice.

She didn't answer. She didn't want to talk about it, to blame Leah, her brother's ex-lover. She didn't want to argue or think. He ruffled her hair and left her alone.

Days passed and Callie stayed in a self-inflicted seclusion. Edward caught glimpses of her mind. She saw fire and teeth and the moon and her daughter's perfect face. She was making a decision. Alice confirmed this with her flickering visions that were slowly taking shape.

Finally she stepped out of her dark room, down the stairs, into the foyer. She cleared her throat quietly, knowing everyone would hear her, and they did.

They gathered rather slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal or a child with a gun and an attitude problem.

"We will save her."

Of course, no one disagreed, maybe out of realization that she would rip them to shreds in her passion, maybe out of their similar thoughts. It was logical, anyway. They outnumbered the six experienced werewolves with their nine vampires, ignoring the young changlings. They could gather Sophie up and run right over the dogs. It wouldn't matter how they did it; they would win. Alice said it. Callie heard the truth ringing in her own words. Between the two of them, there wasn't any doubt.

"Just a little more time," Callie murmured amidst the preparations. It slipped between her perfect lips again and again.