September 26, 1960

"You're not allowed to say a single word," Emmett warned me as Carlisle fiddled with the television. "Nothing at all."

"Emmett, you're the one always asking me about the future."

Edward coiled the end of my braid around his wrist. We were curled up in one of the armchairs, prepared to watch the first Kennedy-Nixon debate with the rest of the family. His voice was a low drawl, but everyone heard him clearly.

"Emmett has a selective memory."

"This is an important historical event!"

"Sure is."

Alice looked up at my words and grinned. Her eyes, blank for a couple of seconds, became clear again. Edward's finger paused along my spine. "Interesting."

"Don't!" Emmett exploded. "I swear, if the three of you ruin this—"

"Baby, cut it out," Rosalie snapped, waving her fingers in his face. "It's starting."

With a dark look reserved for us, he turned toward the television. Edward, having seen the outcome from Alice's mind, was already bored. A cool, wandering hand slid further down my back, making me shiver. When he squeezed, a squeal escaped my lips.

"I'm trying to watch!"

"Fine," he sighed, shifting me slightly so he watch with us. I felt him stroke the band of my wedding ring.

Married life wasn't at all what I feared. Our routines didn't change much. We still went on trips, to the movies, made love—everything we did before "I do."

I realized quickly that it wasn't marriage I feared, it was convention. In my mind, marriage was akin to giving up my dreams in favor of someone else's. Renee always felt stifled in Forks, where she was supposed to be the police chief's wife—and nothing more. But with Edward and I, everything was different. We were partners. A team.

We returned to Scotland for our honeymoon. It was where everything between us had changed. We felt it was an appropriate location to celebrate our marriage.

The weather was perfect for Edward. Though I would have liked to see the sun rising over the Scottish Highlands, I liked Edward's company more.

Esme surprised us with a wedding gift when we returned. She constructed a cottage just for Edward and me. It was about five miles away from the Cullen house; I loved it. It was a little haven for us to be alone.

After enduring fifteen minutes of Emmett's joking about our sex life, Edward lunged at him. The two of them damaged a shutter in the fighting, bringing forth rare anger from Esme. Another week had to go by before we could move in while Esme waited for the replacement.

The wedding had come and gone. September was nearly over. By all rights I could expect Carlisle to change me by end of December. Edward, on the other hand, would change me whenever I asked. I married him, after all. That was the deal.

But despite my impatience, I was dying to meet Elliot Ward first. Carlisle was right; I had to know his experiences with time travel. I had to know I wasn't alone in this. If that meant waiting a little longer . . . well, I was okay with that.

"But if you feel that we have to move again in the sixties, that the function of the president is to set before the people the unfinished business of our society as Franklin Roosevelt did in the thirties, the agenda for our people - what we must do as a society to meet our needs in this country and protect our security and help the cause of freedom."

"He's so handsome," Rosalie said admiringly.

I looked around the room and giggled. It was strange to imagine the seven of them voting. It was just so ordinary. Human. But some of them held jobs. I knew they paid taxes and had shares on the stock market. As funny as it was to me, they technically did have a say in who ran the country.

Back in my time, I still had eight months to go before I was eligible.

Edward and I went home after the debate ended. While he sat reading in our sitting room, I went to wash the dishes. We both had our little habits. A scratchy noise drifted into the kitchen. Edward was starting a record.

My mind began to wander as I worked.

I thought of Renee and Charlie. I wouldn't see them again after my change; it was too dangerous. I spent so much time away from them anyway. My condition put them in as much danger as it did me. With Victoria still at large and the Volturi a distant threat, I didn't want to take any chances.

The dishes in front of me grew fuzzy. It was as if the soapy water on my hands was in my eyes. I squeezed the dish towel, trying to clear my head. The ground came rushing up to meet me.

"Bella? Bella, wake up!"

I opened my eyes. Edward was kneeling next to me, supporting my upper body with one arm. I raised a hand to my aching head. The plate I had been washing was in pieces.

Had I fallen? I couldn't remember.

"What happened?"

"You fainted," he said anxiously, pressing his hand to the back of my head.

My own personal ice pack. I groaned at the touch. The temperature helped, but the pressure didn't. That didn't please him one bit.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Edward said in a tone that brokered no argument. He drove with frightening speed, nudging me every now and then to keep me alert. He snapped a few curt commands to the nurses at reception and I found myself in a comfortable, private room. Ten minutes later, Carlisle joined us, shrugging into his lab coat.

"She fainted," Edward explained as Carlisle probed the growing bump on my head.

"Have you had fainting spells before, Bella?"

"I don't think so."

"I'm going to run some blood tests," he announced, taking my chart. "I'll put a rush on it."

Then we were alone. I laid my head back on the pillow. Edward took my outstretched hand and brought it to his lips. All the mirth he had during the debate was gone. I could see my mounting anxiety reflected in his eyes.

"I can't be pregnant, right?"

"No, that's not possible."

He was right. The tests came back negative for everything. The only thing the technician noted was my blood pressure, which was always high. Edward and Carlisle studied the results as I changed my clothes behind the curtain. They couldn't see my trembling hands.

"Everything seems normal," he said as Edward helped me into my coat. "A good night's sleep ought to do the trick."

I fiddled with my ring as we drove. Fainting spells were a new development. There was a lot of stress in my life at the moment . . . that was probably the culprit. I was almost thankful that I hadn't jumped through time. Other than the brief scare, I was still in 1960 with Edward. The bump on my head was a minor setback.

"You can relax now," I said later as he brushed through my wet hair. "I'm okay."

"I don't think I will until you're one of us," he said quietly. "And I thought 1956 was bad."

It was the first time he brought it up on his own since we got married. I tilted my head back as the brush moved. "It isn't that bad."

He started to say something but the phone rang. With a quick kiss to the top of my head, he disappeared into the kitchen. I tiptoed to the door of our room and listened.

"It could . . . no, it's imperative we find Ward. If this were to continue, she . . . yes, I know what you promised her. I told her the same."

I padded back to bed and slipped under the covers. Finding him would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Only he didn't go to the Cullens as I did.

He was a ghost.

I pretended to sleep when he came back. From what I could remember, I visited Edward twice in the near future. He had made no mention of Elliot Ward.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed he'd surface soon.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

1960 came to a close with John F. Kennedy entering office. Emmett lost his bet with Jasper and swore Edward, Alice and I had something to do with it.

December of that year came and went. Carlisle, Edward, and I sat in tense silence on New Year's Eve, knowing the deadline we established was passing by.

1961 brought more stress. The time travel had stopped, but the fainting spells continued. They went from four times a month that much in a week. Edward spent many hours pacing, tugging his hair, and arguing with himself under his breath. Every time the private investigator called with an empty report, Edward would storm out the door and not come back for hours.

Victoria, fed up with Maria's empty promises, fled Mexico. No one had seen her since. Like Elliot, she was in the wind.

The uneasy pattern continued into 1962. We tried to make the best of it. Our trips and adventures continued despite the hardships. We made love often, sat up whispering in the night, and tried to imagine where we would find Elliot. What he would tell me. And, if everything went according to plan, how we could fix it.

I went to the store on March 11, 1962, knowing the past Bella was due in our bedroom. It seemed so long ago when that was me, worrying only about our budding love.

I returned to a bashful Edward. He realized he had been instrumental to both the start of our physical relationship and warning us of the dangers ahead.

In our current state of worry, I wondered if my fainting spells were on his mind when he spoke to the past Bella. I had warned him enough times of changing events, and he stayed quiet on that subject. It was not a problem for the Edward and Bella of 1955.

One night, another past me appeared in the bathroom. I woke up to find Edward crawling into bed with me, looking guilty but also slightly pleased with himself. I raised my eyebrows.

"I was about to marry you, right?"

"The next time you saw me," he agreed.

I smiled, pulling his arm around me. He held me close to his chest. We were quiet, remembering the day. It was a happy one.

Lately, it seemed like those were numbered.

February 5, 1963

It took Carlisle another year to find Elliot Ward.

He went AWOL before being shipped to Vietnam and complicated the search entirely.

But the Cullens had money. They put feelers out across the entire West Coast at my suggestion he would stay close to his family. Close, but not enough to attract any attention.

Eventually, though, he tried to take some money from his sister's account in California. He must have been desperate; I sympathized. Staying off the grid was hard in any time period.

We finally found him in San Francisco.

Within moments of the call, we were booking the plane tickets. Edward, Carlisle, and I would fly there and track him down. Carlisle wanted Alice to come along, but she disagreed. She had a strong feeling that we were right—Elliot was like me—and therefore invisible in her mind's eye. It was a big chance, but we took it.

We were definitely on a time constraint. While they all seemed convinced he'd end up in government hands eventually, I wasn't so sure. My mom would have known about that. My fear was that we would find him in a ditch somewhere, or worse.

The plane cabin had an unbelievable amount of room. The first class cabin was more private than the others. If I traveled or fainted, there would be less eyes on me.

I stretched my legs, listening to Edward and Carlisle discussing a plan of action. There was enough cloud cover onboard for them at the moment. But it was anyone's guess for when we touched down in San Francisco. We had an idea of where he was staying, but there was still an entire city to comb through.

The clouds rolled away en route to the hotel. Edward and Carlisle had to put their collars up and hats low to hide their sparkling skin. With the two vampires stranded in the hotel, I was on my own.

"Good luck," Carlisle said, looking up from his notes. "You'll do fine."

Edward seemed nervous as I stood to leave. He gave me some money and rose to kiss me goodbye.

"Be safe."

As I stepped out into the sunshine, the reality began to close in. This would be a daunting task. My mark could be anywhere—even back in time. I stopped walking to think a moment.

Elliot was a twenty-two year old man, a time traveler, and a fugitive. In plain clothes, he would blend into the city regardless of these things. I had to think like him.

Traveling always made me hungry. I decided to peek into restaurants. If he was like me, I had a feeling I'd find him near food. I passed a few diners before I found one that was empty and relatively cheap. It was a quarter past two; the lunch rush was over.

My intuition flickered. I was no Alice, but this felt exactly right. I turned my gaze to the back.

There was a young man hunched in the corner. His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and he sat on the edge of the chair like he could leap up at any moment. His eyes flashed up to meet mine and away. He was observant; that was good. With his back to the wall, he could monitor the entire scene. In a strange way, I felt proud of him already.

I decided to confront him with facts rather than questions. If he bolted, I'd never see him again.

His blue eyes watched me warily as I slid into the booth. With a start, I realized my mom had those same eyes.

I laid my purse on the table and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Bella."

"Hello," he said cautiously. "I'm—"

"Elliot Ward," I finished, adjusting my purse so it faced him."Yes, I know."

"I don't believe we've met."

"We haven't, actually. And we never will. Not in your lifetime, anyway."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't follow."

I laid my hand over the purse again. There was nothing of consequence in there, but I wanted him to think I was armed. It seemed like the only way I could keep him running out the door.

"I'm a time traveler, too," I said quietly. "We've never met, but we're family. You're my mother's uncle."

"My sister doesn't have children."

"Not yet," I told him. "She's not born until 1968."

Elliot shook his head back and forth. I could almost see the two desires raging in his mind. The first was to bolt, to run away from nosy me and keep running. The second was pure curiosity. He had to see where this conversation was going, even if it became dangerous.

It was an unfortunate family trait.

"I don't believe you."

"You were born in 1941," I insisted, pressing my hand over his wrist. He winced slightly under my nails. "Marie is two years older. You time travel when stressed, in peril, or at random. And you're supposed to be in Vietnam, but you ran off. Don't you try to bullshit me."

My young great uncle stared at me across the table. There was no room for denial. With a scowl, he pulled his hand free of mine and folded his arms.

"Fine," he admitted. His teeth were gritted. "You're right. About everything."

I nodded in satisfaction. The waitress came over to take our orders; we barely looked at her. Sensing the tension, she hurried away. Finally, I cleared my throat.

"When did it start?"

"I was seven," he answered, reaching for the sugar. I watched him pour a little out onto the table. "I was running around the backyard with Marie and then I was in Germany."

My eyes widened. "Germany?"

Elliot nodded, pouring more sugar onto his pile. "My daddy died over there. I was born when he was away fighting the war. I never saw him in person until that moment."

I reached my hand toward him tentatively. He let my fingers brush his arm for a moment before he took it off the table.

"I struggled with it for years. I wanted to do something with my ability . . . I wanted to be like the other guys! Help people. Fight for my country. Finally I decided to enlist and give my poor momma a break. I didn't think that one through, though. One day I jumped forward from the base and never went back. I've been dodging the government ever since."

"I can give you money."

Elliot shook his head sadly. "It doesn't matter. I know when I'm going to die. I've seen it."

I felt the blood drain away from my face.

He seemed so calm about his doom. Like everything he did was pointless. Like he had no free will at all. The urge he talked about—to do something—reared up inside.

"You can come with me," I said fiercely. "I can protect you. We can change it."

"I don't want to change it. I'm tired of this life."

"What about me?" I asked, the hysteria leaking into my voice. "What should I do?"

"Pray."

I choked out a laugh. "You're pathetic."

"I know my future," Elliot said, suddenly angry. "Don't you think I've tried? You can't outrun your fate. You know that."

All this time and effort spent to find a suicidal great uncle with no real interest in helping me. My head ached. I raised a hand to my forehead.

"The fainting spells," he observed, pushing his water toward me. "I just got over those. Damned inconvenient, huh?"

"Why does this happen? When did it start?"

"The Wards came here from Ireland years ago . . . and you are a Ward," he told me. "I read as much as I could about our family. I spent hours in the archives. We used to guard the shores from the English and the Scots. Who better to guard the coast than someone who can stop what happens next?"

"But . . . we can't do that. We can't control where we go."

"They must have been able to before," Elliot shrugged. "But we lost it on the way over. Too far from home."

It was too much information for me. I took the water and downed it. "Who was the traveler before you?"

"My grandmother," he sighed. "Never met her, though."

I felt like my eyes were being forced open. There was so much I didn't know. There was no one to blame for that, really—my mom didn't know any of this. I doubt Grandma Marie did, either.

"Elliot," I whispered. "When do you die?"

"Four years from now. I get hit by a bus."

The bile was rising in my throat. I pushed out of the booth and hurried to the bathroom, holding the hair away from my face. I wiped my chin after I finished, stumbling toward the sink. Elliot was leaning against it, ignoring the women's only sign. He watched my shaking with impassive eyes.

Dead eyes.

"How can you be so cavalier about your own death?"

"It's set in stone. I can't change it."

My voice was shrill. "You can!"

I had been all about preventing changes in the past. Now I was desperate to change everything. The idea of knowing my death, the irrevocable march toward six feet under, was enough to make me panic. Transformation was one thing—this was quite another.

"Bella," Elliot laid a hand on my shoulder. "We don't live long. That's what the fainting spells are all about. Wouldn't you rather die quickly? Not drawn out and painful? I'm thankful to know when it happens."

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

"Human bodies aren't supposed to behave this way," he said incredulously. "Isn't it obvious? We all shut down someday. It just comes faster for us."

"But you . . . you'll only be twenty-six by then."

He shrugged again. "My grandmother was twenty-one. It's kind of like science class: the more power in the star, the faster it burns out."

I felt tears brimming in my eyes. He was tactless, but he had a lot of reasons to be. Life had been cruel to the Wards. Giving us this condition and making life extraordinarily short. I took the tissue he offered and sniffled.

"I'm only seventeen."

His eyes went to my wedding ring. "Where are you from?"

"2005."

"Damn," he whistled. "The twenty-first century. That's something I wanted to see."

"It's okay, I guess."

"Probably a lot better than this," Elliot said darkly, leaning against the door. "No one bombing churches in 2005."

If he only knew.

"I should get moving," he said after an awkward silence. "Marie tried to send me some money, but the teller refused to hand it over without identification."

I dug around in my purse for the money Edward gave me in the hotel. It would support him for a little while. "Here, it's everything I have."

"No, I couldn't—"

"Yes, you will," I insisted. "We're family. Take it. Please."

He accepted reluctantly. Our condition seemed to foster a knee jerk reaction to gifts and charity. But he was in dire straits. This could mean everything to him.

"So there's really nothing I can do?" I asked him.

Elliot stared at me. I could see the small flicker of hope in them—that he was not alone in his struggle—before he built the wall again. No. He was resigned to his fate.

To his death.

"Take care of yourself, Bella," he said finally. After a brief second of hesitation, he leaned over to kiss my forehead. "For my sake."

His last words wove around me like a song.

"It will all be over soon."

Night had fallen.

I spent most of the day wandering the city. I had never been to San Francisco until now. There was so much to see—so much to distract me from my growing distress. Somewhere, I could almost see Elliot on a train, charging away from here. Hurtling toward his terrible future.

There would be no talk of cures or the power I killed James with. Our only source of information was long gone.

I felt so alone.

Eventually, though, I knew I had to find Edward and Carlisle. They had to be very worried by now. Sighing, I called the hotel and they connected me to our room.

Carlisle's voice came over the line. "Bella, where have you been? Edward is frantic. He's combing the entire city."

I gave him the details and sat down to wait. Edward called Carlisle every twenty minutes. I estimated he'd be here in ten.

Sure enough, his bronze head came into view shortly after the call. He looked furious. I cringed.

"Bella, are you trying to kill me? Actually kill me?"

I kept walking until I was close enough to hug him. He stiffened under my touch, but I wrapped my arms tighter, pressing my face into his jacket. When we were like this, nothing could ever get to me.

"You had me worried sick," he admonished, but it was half-hearted. My shoulders were shaking. He returned my affection, pulling me as close as he could. I felt his arm rub my back.

"What happened?"

I craned my head back to meet his eyes. They were wide with worry. And so beautiful. I wanted to drown in them.

"He's dying," I told him. "And so am I."

"And then I gave him my money," I finished, watching the two vampires pace back and forth around the room. "He's gone."

Carlisle looked more heartbroken than the pair of us. All his years of research were over. Over and done with nothing to show for it. Elliot told us exactly what I always feared—that my time was up.

"We can't be sure of what he saw," Edward said after a moment. "He could misunderstood the situation."

"Edward, he's not wrong. I've always thought the first trip is the most important. The defining moment. He went back to meet his father—an event that changed his life forever. Trust me. If Elliot says he's dead, he's dead."

Carlisle excused himself to call Alice. She couldn't see my future, but he wanted to determine if she could find Elliot. I knew she wouldn't find him.

Silent and dreading the night, I rose to get ready for bed. Edward held me close as I slept, but my dreams were full of terror.

I imagined I was there when it happened. Standing on the sidewalk as Elliot crossed the street, unaware that this was his death march.

The bus collided with him dead on. Blood spattered the pavement. I screamed, but time was pulling me backwards, away from the only other traveler I've ever known.

Over my screams, his voice came back through the fog.

It will all be over soon.