January 17, 2005

It was pitch black when I woke, jolted awake by the ache in my wrist.

I cringed at the sight of it. My wrist was purple and twice its normal size. I could still feel the phantom grip around it, the cold hand tight against the bone . . .

I rolled off the bed and hurried to the bathroom. Dimly, I realized I was back in Phoenix. It didn't help the situation.

Bile rose in my throat at an alarming speed. I made it to the toilet with seconds to spare before I was throwing up. My body was shaking uncontrollably. I wiped my mouth and stumbled toward the shower. The cold water was a shock to the system, and the tears swiftly began.

"Telling you could change history in ways I can't imagine. If I tell you the future, you could make decisions that my Bella didn't make, or even erase yourself from existence."

I wept for the Cullens. They took me in and I only gave them suffering. I wept for the innocent girls, and for Jerry. I cried, angry at myself, for my own stupidity. I had been warned of the danger. I got too comfortable. People died because of me.

All my fault.

I squeezed my injured wrist until I whimpered. I deserved the pain. I deserved every ache.

Later, when I couldn't torment myself anymore, I cried, selfishly, for the Bella from earlier tonight. She was dead now, gone, and never coming back. The moment James and his coven appeared, everything changed.

I studied my hand, watching the water stream over the palm lines. A deadly blast had erupted from my skin, scorching James to death. He was nothing but ash when I was through with him. My anger had come alive, an incendiary force with fatal consequences.

"Oh, but you do. I thought you were an intelligent girl. We've met before, Isabella. Remember?"

He had been watching me for so long. I never noticed. I was so stupid. The survival instincts I worked hard to foster in my travels had gone soft. I was completely blindsided.

But he's gone, I told myself in satisfaction. You killed him.

I expected to feel remorse. Or guilt. The typical emotions that a regular person experiences after this kind of traumatic experience.

I killed someone.

But I felt nothing but pleasure. He was dead. James was never going to hurt us again. I stared at my reflection when the water ran dry.

James screaming echoed in my ears, and an ugly smile grew on my face. He forced his way into our lives and I forced him right back out. A loss of innocence, surely, but if given the chance, I would torch him again and again until Judgement Day.

I dressed as best I could. My arm needed serious medical attention, and Renee would be hysterical if I woke her in the tattered clothes I wore to the game.

I stuffed the torn dress into a box and found a pair of sweats. I hoped I could burn the dress and never think of that night again.

Renee and Phil were asleep. The phone was between them again, always prepared for me to call. I watched them sleep for a moment, eternally grateful for their presence. I knew I would be a basket case if something happened to both of my families in one night.

I hated to wake her, but I knew the longer I waited, the worse my arm was going to feel. She stirred at my touch.

"Bella?"

"I'm back, Mom," I whispered. "Don't freak out, but can you drive me to the ER?"

She was instantly alert. "What happened?"

I backed toward the doorway, nodding at Phil. "I'll tell you on the way."

She grabbed a coat and her car keys and shooed me into the car. From there, I told her a safe-for-Renee version in which I time traveled to somewhere icy and fell on my arm.

Her eyes flashed dangerously at the lie. I sat stubbornly in the passenger seat with my arm elevated, ignoring her questioning gaze. If I spoke a word of it, everything would come tumbling out.

Renee had no cause to know of vampires and werewolves.

Her irritation grew in the emergency room. After filling out my forms with remarkable speed, she spent a good hour pacing the ward. A timid nurse ran away from her rather than telling her off. When it was my turn, the doctor shook his head.

"You need to stay out here, ma'am."

When she looked like she could argue, I spoke up.

"I'm fine, Mom. Go call Phil and tell him I'm okay."

The man was no Carlisle Cullen, but the doctor put a simple blue cast on my arm. His hands were so gentle that I barely felt them. His eyebrows knit together as he worked, and I wondered if he was going to ask me how I received this injury. I didn't know what I'd tell him.

When he was finished with it, his voice sounded far away. "Do you need to call the police?"

He was a younger doctor, I realized. Young and idealistic. There was still some fire in him—he wanted to protect me.

People who protected me ended up dead.

"No," I murmured, my eyes on my shoes. "I'm okay."

Renee and I picked up my prescriptions in silence. By now it was almost five in the morning. We had been up all night, and we looked it. The only thing I wanted now was my bed.

My mom pulled me into a hug as we reached my room, her face buried in my shoulder. I knew what she meant immediately. She was overjoyed to have me back, furious I was lying, and thankful my injuries were not as bad as they could have been. She was angry I wouldn't tell her what happened, but understanding that I needed my space. I had never loved her more than I had in that moment.

I imagined dying without telling her I loved her and felt a lump in my throat at the thought. I thought it hurt more than my wrist did.

Sleep came surprisingly easy. I felt my eyes close and drifted away.

I had a hard time adjusting without the Cullens.

Every minute I wasn't busy I was thinking of them. The Edward from 1962 warned me trouble was coming. He refused to say what happened, so I had no clue if everyone made it out okay. I thought he wouldn't have been so chipper if we lost someone, but I wouldn't believe they survived until I saw it with my own eyes.

The only thing that seemed enough for a distraction that week was packing. Though I owned very little, I accumulated a lot of knick knacks and clothes. Phil and Renee helped me bag things for charity, fussing whenever I did anything too strenuous. Finally, I conceded to them and sat on the couch as they worked. They packed, taped, and moved with efficiency. When it was over, Phil announced he was taking us out to dinner.

The three of us found a great place with greasy, fried food. I loved that they were working hard to keep my mind off bad things, and for the most part, it worked. I tried to focus on spending time with them, knowing I probably wouldn't be back for a few months.

My last night in Phoenix was strange. I was so used to moving with my mom that the thought of going alone scared me. I traveled back and forth through time for over a decade, but the present was our place. Our time. But I had to remember I wasn't going to be alone—Charlie was waiting for me in Forks. It was just another town I was going to have to get used to.

The Sunday morning of my departure was a tearful one. My emotions were running right on the surface. The pain of my wrist, the separation from Edward, and the move away from my mom was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Renee was a good sport about it, swallowing back her own tears to be firm. She patiently waited for my tears to stop before we got in the car, then sat in the back with me as Phil drove. We propped our legs up on my duffel bags and sat quietly together. I knew she was thinking of our nomadic lifestyle, and so was I.

"Are you all right, baby?"

I was truly acting like one. I sniffled. "Yeah. I will be. I love you, Mom. It's just so weird; me moving on without you."

"You'll be back for the wedding before you know it," she assured me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. "I need my maid of honor!"

I took a deep breath and smiled at her. "Of course, Mom. Someone has to veto Chicken Kiev."

"Hey," Phil protested, mussing my hair. "I love Chicken Kiev."

"You're the only one," I grinned, ducking his hand. "Love you guys."

I waved to them from security and moved on. Progress was slow going with my cast. When I made my way onto the plane, a kind flight attendant took pity on me and loaded my carry on to the overhead compartment. She brought me extra pretzels and a soda for good measure. It was almost enough to send me into another crying jag, but I managed to avoid it. Kindness from strangers was something I could never forget.

The plane soon rolled away from the airport. I took one last look at sunny Phoenix, knowing I was headed for one of the rainiest towns in the country. I closed my eyes for take off, my good hand clutching the armrest.

I was gonna make it. One step at a time.

I had been on planes before, but I was nervous for this flight. It seemed like a bad idea for someone with my condition to travel this way. Being trapped in a pressurized cabin miles above the ground was not my idea of fun. I prayed to any deity listening for my trip to remain time travel free. The last thing I needed in this emotional state was time travel, especially in front of all these people.

I thought of Renee and her story about Saint Christopher. He seemed like a good guardian to pray to, so I focused my energies on that. Before long, time was passing, and I relaxed.

Despite my worrying, the flight went smoothly. I slept for awhile, then munched on my pretzels. I breathed a sigh of relief as we touched down in Seattle. As desperate as I was to go back to Edward, I had my own threat of exposure to be concerned about.

The security officials made sympathetic faces at my splint. I nodded at them, shuffling forward through the scanner with as much dignity as I could muster. I almost expected it to go off. I was a walking timebomb. I burned a powerful predator to ash with only the touch of my skin. Metal detectors were, in comparison, laughable.

I couldn't stop replaying the night of the baseball game in my head. This power was completely unprecedented. I went from a (somewhat) ordinary human to . . . what? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?

My lips twitched at the thought. That made Edward the sexy, brooding Angel. It was almost too easy to compare the two of them. The tortured angst, the brooding good looks . . . the star crossed lovers. Their similarities were unbelievable.

I still had one more flight to go. I just was thinking about what I wanted for dinner when a tired voice over the loudspeaker announced a flight delay. There was snow on the ground on the runway of Port Angeles. This guaranteed a delay of at least two hours.

I groaned. Nothing good came of snow. Sighing, I trudged to the pay phone and dialed Charlie's cell phone number.

"Hey, Bells!"

I smiled at the brightness in his voice. Charlie and I didn't have the same relationship that my mother and I had, but I could hear his excitement over the airwaves.

"Hey, Dad. I'm just calling to tell you my flight's been delayed."

"I thought that might happen with the storm. That's all right. We can grab some food when you get here."

I told him I'd see him soon and hung up the phone. Delays were the worst. There wasn't a lot to do in airports. I opened my purse to determine the money situation. A crisp $20 bill sat inside. I frowned. That wasn't mine.

My mom must have slipped it in there. I rolled my eyes. She was so sneaky.

I bought a stack of trashy magazines and some Tic-Tacs. For the next hour, I immersed myself in People. I read a story about looking for love in Alaska. There was a charity dating auction set up to both bring couples together and fund women's shelters. It was a nice break from vampires and time travel and dead people.

But soon I was done with the magazines and halfway through the Tic-Tacs. I even called Renee from the pay phone to give her an update. She spoke with me until I heard the announcement that I was allowed to begin boarding.

I struggled awkwardly with my bags onto the much smaller airplane. It was half the size of the last one; I always hated the second leg of the journey. The planes to Port Angeles were no bigger than soda cans and about as flimsy.

My anxiety started climbing. It had started to snow again, powdering the wings of the plane like sugar. I gulped.

Later, as we battled the winds, I thought that little plane might go down. I spent most of the flight with my eyes shut tight. I didn't know if heart attacks ran in my family (then again, I didn't know if time travel ran in my family), but it felt like one could come on any minute. Lately, I had been enduring nothing but stress.

I let out a long breath as we landed, skittering down the runway. There weren't many of us on the plane, so I was walking up the ramp in just a few minutes. My dad was waiting for me at the end.

He was in full uniform. This would have embarrassed me a year ago, but not now. I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. Charlie stumbled, his dark eyebrows rising in surprise. We weren't touchy-feely but I was grasping for the familiar. He hugged me back after a moment, his face reddening.

I laughed. Edward was always teasing me about how often I blushed. Charlie was the real culprit behind that unfortunate reaction—his genes were my genes.

Charlie touched my arm. "What happened?"

"Time travel mishaps," I said sheepishly. The only person more in the dark about what was going with me than Renee was Charlie. But that was for the better. I kept my smile wide and my tone light.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, they gave me some medication."

He shouldered both of my bags and led the way through the airport. I pulled my coat tighter around me with my good hand. Snow came down steadily, sprinkling the top of my head and the shoulders of my jacket.

Charlie piled my bags in the trunk and unlocked the door. I slid in the passenger side awkwardly. The only good thing about riding in the cruiser was when you rode in the passenger seat. At least passerby didn't think you were a criminal.

He found a restaurant nearby and we were seated in no time—the uniform tended to have that effect on people. The hostess, taller than Charlie in her heels, led us to a booth near the back. Only two other tables were being used. It was a dark and snowy Sunday. Not a busy night this time of year.

Charlie picked steak and potatoes from the entrees menu. I ordered mushroom ravioli, the first thing I saw. The waitress returned with a beer for my dad and a Coke for me. Then we were alone.

"You look cold."

"I am," I admitted, tucking my good hand farther into my sleeve. "I'll have to adjust to the weather. And the snow."

"It's hardly Phoenix."

We laughed together. As much as I already missed Renee, I knew this adjustment to Charlie would go just fine. Our talks over the phone these past months had brought us a lot closer.

"I found a car for you."

"Really?"

"Do you remember my old friend from La Push? Billy Black?"

I nodded. Billy became one of the first nonfamily witnesses to my condition. I had jumped away from the boat on a fishing trip, only to reappear fifteen minutes later. Charlie had sputtered and stammered, trying to explain the miraculous event Billy saw before his own eyes. To our surprise, he merely shrugged and showed us the fish he caught in the interim.

I wondered if Billy had known before my time travel began. His ancestors had been in the Hoquiam pack. No doubt I had become a story to frighten children with—the Girl Who Vanished.

Then I thought of my blasting power and sobered. If only they knew what I could do.

"How could I forget?"

He grinned. "Anyway, he's in a wheelchair now. He sold his truck to me. It's Chevy. Runs great."

"Wow," I murmured. "Thanks, Dad."

Charlie grew flustered again. "You're welcome."

Our food arrived and the conversation petered off. We ate our food quietly. Charlie snatched the bill away before I could grab it, ignoring my dark look. He bought me a car; the least I could do was pay for dinner. But Charlie was old-fashioned like that. Kind of like someone else I knew.

My heart clenched. I was fairly successful at keeping Edward out of my head today, but the snow made me think of Christmas Eve in 1945. Edward and I danced that night. We were just getting to know each other.

Charlie was fishing for his keys. "Are you all right, Bell?"

I nodded furiously. "Uh-huh."

"Are you sure? You look a little pale."

My head jerked upward. I saw pure fear in his eyes. We were on a public street. I had to get somewhere private.

Charlie had been trained for high stress situations. In seconds he was ushering me around the corner to a dead end alley. He stood with his cell out, blocking the entrance. Anyone who walked by would assume the light was from his phone.

"I'll be back," I whispered.

The last thing I saw were his brown eyes, my eyes, before I was hurled backwards.

A/N: This update technically broke the Wednesday rule, 'cause now it's Thursday. Sorry guys! I was wrapping presents.

I love your reviews - the good, the bad . . . the ugly. Haha. Thank you all so much for your responses to last week. I was blown away (double haha) by your words.

I wrote a one shot last week called "Bumble Bella." Check it out! It was a fun little thing I wrote to avoid studying for finals.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and I will see you all next week.