Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Wash Away" as performed by Matt Costa, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

A/N: A HUGE thank you to my amazing beta, clarabella75 for her sheer astoundingness. She got this chapter back to me in less than 24 hours ... WITH school and work and children. Huzzah to you, because you are EPIC. :D

To my pre-reader and wifey, puppymama0909, my heart is torn and bruised that you don't have internet, but at least we still have phones. :P Thank you for everything you do, calling me after each chapter just to encourage me to write what I know is truth. Even if I'm afraid of the pitchforks. XOXO

To ThisGuiltyBlood, who is one of the most awesome women I know - HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL! This updated is dedicated to you, on your day of birth, because it was just one of those oh so special days. :)

To every one of my girls at FFA, the list is growing MUCH too big to name, but I guess I'll try - Mezz, Feral, Beibs, Kd, Ali, Lisa, Riri, Twilightsonefan Pattinson, Jay, Rebadams, and so many others I know I may be forgetting or don't know are out there - I could never say enough to you. If I could meet you all, you'd be shoving me off, cause I'd be humping your leg in gratitude. :D

For those who love music, "Wash Away" by Matt Costa is inspirational and haunting, the perfect setting for this chapter. Check out the link on my profile if you want to hear it.

So grab a (insert favorite beverage here), a box of tissues, and settle in. This rollercoaster has nearly run its course.

And now, as always, with no further gilding the lily, I wish you happy reading.

Chapter Sixteen:
Wash It Down On Me

Float down stream, rivers of dreams; float down stream, catch your wings
Heaven's high, so you fly, catch your dreams in the sky.
But the glaciers have frozen your feet.
I can't wait for eternity, and so you watched me wash away.

But maybe we'll catch up someday.

Sun, it sinks out of view. Stars, they shine, changing hue.
But bright lights have blinded your sights.
They can't adjust when day turns to night.
The castles we built were so tall. They only left us further to fall.
And still I see them far away.

But maybe we'll come back someday.

"Wash Away" – Matt Costa

x0x0x0x0x0x

The stars outnumbered my tears.

At least, they would have if I could've seen them all. Counting them had become numbing enough, but soon they began to slip behind the clouds again. There were just so many, out here beyond the lights … beyond the words I had released from the prison where they should have remained.

It was true; I had run. I had disappeared like a little girl – in fact, it was more like the petrified, impetuous, temperamental little girl I hadn't been in nine years. Now I couldn't get her spunky ass back behind the door.

I pulled the thick quilt tighter around my shoulders and adjusted my legs. The grass crunched beneath me. It was two weeks to the holiday season, and even in the city the temperature had plunged dramatically, drawing maybe whispers of a white Christmas. Here, forty-five minutes into the North Georgia mountains, the air was practically frigid – the same temperature as a mild winter night in Forks – but somehow it dug deeper, plunged sharper into your lungs.

It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

Honestly, in between my heated skin and shuddering tears, the cold was achingly refreshing. Little clouds of condensation gathered around my mouth and dissolved as I breathed, steady. Time had slipped by after its explosion, and the moon was now covered completely with heavy, low clouds. I couldn't have guessed the hour if I'd wanted to.

I didn't.

The drive here had been the chaotic dénouement of my epic word vomit, of the fucked up situation I couldn't even begin to process. So when I arrived, I found the stars. My ocean was calm, as calm as the placid water spread out, a dark horizontal plane evidenced only by its quiet lap against the shore. The grass was brown, frostbitten to death, and as numb as my mind.

But its peace was undeniable.

Part of me wanted to bury my head in my hands, sob, laugh, and weep at my stupidity, at the signs hanging everywhere, the denial of bound souls.

He would never remember.

And I had condemned myself to love the unattainable – so that I would never be hurt.

Now, I would be forced to leave, to abandon the life I had built … around him. The recognition was a slap in the face, cold as the sudden snowflake melting on my nose. Another dropped to my cheek.

I didn't wipe them away.

I didn't have a 'life' built here … I didn't have a life built anywhere.

Forks was too painful; living there had never been an option for me. Even if Edward wasn't truly dead, what made him Edward was, and my father's resting place was still a cold granite stone in my memory.

California had been sun and eternal summers, rich heat and burnt skin, lazy days with Alice and the fickle carelessness of the collegiate sorority girl.

Atlanta had been the next stop on my search, but while I had every ingredient necessary to create the perfect apple pie, I had ignored the apples and just dumped in the sugar. Now my apples were being enjoyed without me, and they were perfectly tasty outside of my pie.

I had abandoned my friends. I couldn't imagine why they would care about me now.

A thin layer of snow blanketed the earth around me. A small pile rested in my palm, and I brushed the white from my shoulders, shaking my head lightly, when I heard it.

Izzy.

The voice trembled, the one word quiet and reverent.

My heart beat twice and paused, thickly painful. I closed my eyes, certain it had drifted in on the wind. I was summoning hallucinations now.

Izzy … I'm sorry.

"Go away." I could feel the tears, burning heat rimming my eyes. I couldn't take this. Why would he come to me now? "Please, just let me go."

Izzy ...

"I don't want you anymore! And don't call me that!"

"Isabella … Bella … I'll call you whatever you want."

I stood and spun, limping a bit and sweeping snow with the quilt. It flared around my shoulders, throwing up a swirl of white. Trevor stood in front of me, five feet away, his hands lowered to his waist.

Rage burned through the numbness, red flickering in my brain.

"Can I not even get one of my requests? I thought I asked you to stay away!"

"Bella, I need – please, you have to let me – I'm sorry, I –"

"No. No, you don't get to say you're sorry." The words would burn my tongue to ashes. But he needed to leave, now, or I would never maintain my sanity. "You ignored me; you blamed me; you truly believe I've been manipulating you, using you to feed some kind of sick fantasy I could never recreate with you."

I would never mention the truth in my own words, the drifting right in all the wrong.

He stepped closer, a few paces at a time, pain flooding his eyes and washing in waves over his body.

"What would you expect me to do? Bella, you sat in front of me, hysterical, and told me my entire life was a lie!"

"And you said you loved me?" My voice was a pitch higher, my chest heaving. I was nearly hysterical. "You're supposed to trust the ones you love, if you even know what love is!"

He flinched, taking another step forward.

"Bella, please … you should listen to him."

This voice was different – sad, soft, feminine, and so very distinctly Alice. Her small form materialized in the midst of the thickly falling snow, a few feet behind Trevor. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her tan pea coat, her eyes subdued. She stopped as soon as she knew I could see her. I gaped.

"Alice, what – why – no." Rage swelled again, erasing my shock. "You have no right to be here, in the middle of this. You have no idea what's going on and, contrary to your obvious disillusionment, you really don't have to meddle in everyone else's lives! Sometimes, some people just like to be left alone and not ridiculed by a relentless gossip."

Hurt and irritation flickered in her eyes, but her jaw clenched shut.

My locket pulled at my neck. I'd forgotten I was wearing it.

I looked down to find his fingers wrapped around the long chain, his thumb brushing over the encrusted heart. Instant, unsummoned tears spilled forward.

"What are you –"

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Bella." His words were quiet, erasing my own. "I'm so sorry you've suffered for so long … but now, it's okay." He flipped the pendant in his palm, reaching for my arm.

I flinched away.

In the middle of everything, his eyes still held a soft smile.

"It's going to be okay, I promise. All the names, the mistakes, the memories …" he trailed off, voice gentle, and I stemmed the pain rising into my throat, choking on angry words. "It's alright, because," he paused and met my eyes, "I love you, and I rem –"

"No," I shoved him backwards, unable to hear the lies. He couldn't love me, didn't respect me enough to give me the time I needed. "Please … just go." I glanced at Alice, her lips pursed. "Both of you. Just … give me time." The tears slowed, aching drops of liquid pleading. They left me nearly vibrating with the need to simply be alone. "I need time … and space." I sniffled and shuffled my feet in the mounting snow. "Can't you give me a weekend? Please?"

The locket landed against my chest with a thump that echoed into my lungs. Trevor stepped backwards, placing a few feet between us.

"Okay." His hands slid into his pockets, as if he was physically restraining himself from touching me.

Oxygen shuddered through my lungs. The air was so frosty, it hurt to breathe. One hand came out towards me before it fisted and fell back to his side.

"But you have to give me something."

I hesitated. He didn't wait for my assent.

"Go inside, please. Get warm before you end up frostbitten." A muscle twitched in his jaw. He wanted to say more.

Instead of nodding, I limped past him towards the house, surprised that I could hardly feel my healing ankle or my feet inside of my flats. I stopped at the door and turned, throwing snow off of the quilt tucked around my shoulders. Trevor and Alice jolted to a halt only a foot or two behind me.

"I'm going inside now." I tried to glare, but it withered, my anger just flickering coals. The tears were barely contained, and I wouldn't cry in front of them again. "I can get there by myself." Trevor started to protest. I watched Alice's face, an intricate mixture of annoyance, sorrow, and understanding. "Just go. If you care for me at all, then let me do this. Alone."

I had cut him off, erased his ability to care, but as I turned to the door, his face flickered in the corner of my vision.

He was dejected.

At that moment, I didn't care.

I disappeared inside and walked the few feet to the couch before I collapsed, slow tears streaking my temple, listening for the sounds of their departure. I hadn't realized how much larger the cracks in my heart would become when I heard them.

My arms curled into my stomach and I cocooned myself inside of the thick, heavy quilt on the leather couch. My mind was blank and empty, my throat raw, and the tears wouldn't stop spilling, slowly drifting and wetting the inside of the square patches. I wondered who had stitched the quilt, pouring love into every last bit of thread and cloth.

If only they had known how it would end.

Edward …

I couldn't believe that even now, after everything, my mind still retreated to his arms, to his love.

"I'm not leaving you Izzy, I promise. I will fight with everything I have to stay right by your side."

"Do you promise?"

"Isabella Marie Swan, I vow to stay with you for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."

"Edward?"

"Hmm."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Izzy."

"Isabella …"

The touch was too soft, tugging at the blankets around my face, beneath my body.

"Isabella, dear, you need to wake up."

The voice was feminine and smoothly alluring, like butter and syrup over perfectly browned pancakes. Warm fingertips met the side of my cheek. Grimacing, I opened my eyes and rolled my arm outward, freeing myself from my cocoon. Frigid air hit my exposed skin. I jerked the quilt back around me and looked up.

"There you are, Isabella. Everyone's been so worried about you."

The older woman was elegant, her long, thick brown hair pulled into a swift bun at the nap of her gracefully arched neck, while wisps of escaping locks flared around her shoulders and behind her ears. She stepped back as I sat upright.

"Okay, that's nice … um, who's everyone? And, no offense, but, who are you?"

Thick sunlight poured in from the window behind her, cutting through the blinds, bouncing off of a heavy, white layer of snow. She smiled with an edge of sadness.

"I'm the Cullens' neighbor, dear, Mrs. Bonomo."

I nodded slowly and stretched as one piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

"Okay. Well, since you obviously seem to know who I am, I can assume you know why I'm here." I lifted an eyebrow. "Can I ask why you're here?"

Her expression dropped further, and I recognized the tale tell sign of a mask sliding upwards. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she lifted an eyebrow.

"Why don't you go use the restroom, wake up a bit, and meet me in the kitchen. I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

I wanted to protest, but the scent of roasted coffee beans and the urgent need to empty an excessively overfull bladder smacked me dead in the face simultaneously.

Oh God, when was the last time I had peed?

"Okay," I quickly agreed, springing from the couch and limping towards the downstairs restroom. Five minutes later, after I had peed for at least three of the minutes, quickly rinsed my face, and gargled with what I could find, I ran my fingers through my impossible hair and followed the scent of heaven.

A steaming mug sat on the counter, a glass jug of milk and a stainless steel container of sugar resting beside it. Mrs. Bonomo had her own mug in her hands, her sheer, white flared sleeves hanging by her sides as she watched me.

I fixed my coffee in silence, sat at the kitchen table, and inhaled half of the mug before breaking the silence.

"Okay, I've washed up, I've had some caffeine, now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

Her mug clattered on the granite countertop. Her thick, full lips were pressed tightly together. If it weren't for her 'come-fuck-me' glasses, I'd say this woman was almost more motherly than Esme. The look on her face made me never want to disappoint her if it were in my power to do so.

"You're not allowed to panic, Isabella. And you're also not allowed to leave unless you are calm, by strict order of Carlisle and Esme."

My eyebrows shot up as my pulse began to race. I opened my mouth in protest before the look on her face shut me up. Quickly.

"Don't think of arguing. I have your keys." She patted her hip pocket.

Dread hit me full force in the chest, dragging its aching claws down my spine and latching into my stomach. I didn't speak.

"Okay … Isabella …" she paused, swallowed, and then hit me with the words I swore I never thought I'd hear again.

"There's been an accident."

Past collided with present; I heard my mother's voice, mingling with the woman in front of me and awash with the acrid scent of loss, defeat, and a hurricane of guilt. I nearly vomited.

She continued.

"Now look, as soon as you're able, you can drive back to town, and if you need us to, my husband and I will be more than happy to take you –"

"How bad?" A whisper was the most I could force out between clenched teeth, determined to keep the coffee in my stomach. I would be needing the caffeine.

Her eyebrow arched delicately and she stepped toward me, arms extended.

"Bella, it's okay, you don't have to –"

"How. Bad."

"I don't know. They're both at Saint Joseph's. I don't know what happened. Esme just asked me to keep you calm and get you to the hospital as soon as I could."

Her deep brown eyes caught mine, hard and soft at once. It didn't matter. My mind was made up. She couldn't reach me.

"Mrs. Bonomo, may I please have my keys." She watched me pensively. More adrenaline shot through my spine. I was scarily calm. "I promise, I can drive, and I will be fine." Her hand slid into her pocket and stilled. I stared her down. "And unless you'd like to see how well I can hotwire a BMW, I suggest you give me the keys."

Her lips quirked upwards, faintly amused. She placed the keys on the table.

"Thank you." My volume was back to a whisper.

I stood from the table without a word, picked my purse up off the armchair, and pulled out my phone.

Forty eight missed calls.

Sliding it shut, I tossed it back in my purse. I didn't bother to see who had tried to contact me.

"Please be safe, Isabella. The roads should be mostly clear by now, but it's still slick."

I nodded once before grabbing my crutch from beside the door and leaving the house.

The sun glinted off of the snow, a bright and happy white on the surface of the black BMW. It's deep, dark paint more than reflected my mood; it pressed further on the weight in my soul, the heaviness which stiffened my limbs before the adrenaline pumped through and released them.

The sleek sports sedan couldn't go fast enough.

I raced down the highway as soon as I passed through the mountain roads, every mile an excuse for my foot to press down just a little further. The roads were fine, well worn by the early morning traffic and rarely used salt trucks which had gone on high alert as soon as the snow began to fall. Even now, at a little after nine, everything seemed surreal, coated in a layer of white dust.

I was stuck in a snow globe, a glass container which pulled me closer and drew me away, the rising panic clotting up my throat each second, until I finally arrived. I parked and stared up at the huge face of Saint Joseph's Hospital, the towering white concrete building cold and immense.

They weren't there. They couldn't be there. If they were there, it was entirely my fault, for sending them on, for never listening, for never being able to believe what they knew, what they risked their lives to tell me.

I had washed away their words, our past, and let only the present dictate my selfish needs.

Why could I never look beyond my own self?

I looked out the driver's side window, when it hit me. I nearly slammed my head against the glass pane.

I was doing it again.

I was overcomplicating everything, when the only place I should have been was at my best friends' sides, showing them I was there, helping to comfort the family members they'd left in limbo, waiting in the stiff, comfortless plastic and hiding the tears I could feel building in my throat.

I should be crying over their potential loss and pain, not ruminating over my own poor decisions.

I was an idiot.

It was time to learn that the world didn't revolve around me.

Leaving my crutch behind, I limped hurriedly through the piercingly cold air and nearly slammed through the rotating doors of the ER. You would think that a frenzied body flying into a room, swirling with snow and panic, would draw some kind of attention.

Not one head turned my way.

I sighed in frustration and brushed my hair from my eyes, grabbing the first nurse I could find. She eyed me with skeptic indignation.

"Cullen?"

Her eyes softened – a little.

"Fifth floor, room 524."

Jerking her arm from my grip, she went on her way.

Scowling, I ambled down a few hallways until I found the closest elevator and stepped inside, pressing five before I could think. My chest was tight, my throat clogged, with my heart echoing in my ears.

It was pure adrenaline that moved my legs from the elevator. Time seemed to move in slow ticks until I saw them.

Esme, her soft auburn hair gathered messily in a high ponytail on her head, a chenille sweater draped over a tight tank top and her thin, trembling shoulders. Her head was down, gathered in her husband's shoulder, whose calm, fixed features were resting on his wife's body.

I nearly collapsed in the doorway.

"Esme?"

Her head lifted at my voice and she shot up from her chair, her arms around me in the space of seconds.

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh hush, Bella."

Her rebuke stung, but I knew it was deserved. This wasn't the time for apologies. It was the time for hope. So instead of replying, I cradled the taller woman in my arms, her head buried in the crook of my neck, each of us drawing comfort as the ones who loved him more than our own existence.

I felt one strong arm wrap around my back. Carlisle had joined our huddle.

A voice drifted across the empty waiting room.

"Hey … dude, it's that Bella girl."

"No way."

"Yes it is, I swear!"

Working my face out of the huddle, I glanced a few chairs over only to lay eyes on the two biggest morons I had ever had the pleasure of working with.

"Hey guys."

Ricky and Marshall, the two other members of the Whiskey Chasers, waved a little, their hands dropping back to their lap amidst a chorus of 'heys'.

Esme lifted her head from my chest and gripped my fingers, pulling me back towards the waiting room chairs. She never let go of my hand.

"Emmett and Rose just went down to the cafeteria for coffee," she nodded, as if reassuring herself, her dark green eyes blotched and blurry. "Jasper and the Brandons are upstairs, in the ICU."

My mouth fell open.

"Is she –" I croaked. Esme briskly shook her head.

"We don't know yet." Tears gathered beneath her eyes, barely falling before she efficiently stripped them away. "She was in surgery for eight hours. Her condition hasn't stabilized."

I attempted to swallow, but everything stuck in my throat. I felt like vomiting.

"And –"

"He's stable, but in serious condition." Carlisle's voice was strong and supple behind me, smooth and heartbroken as torn silk. "He went into cardiac arrest during the surgery to remove the tree limb from his shoulder; however, his heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, and respiration have normalized over the past two hours. He's being moved from ICU to a private room on this floor, by my request."

My mind raced, struggling to process all of the information so caustically released upon me by the man I'd forgotten was a doctor at this very hospital. He had obviously shifted into doctor-mode in order to deal with the trauma, so very similar to his own past.

I, on the other hand, was reeling.

A fucking tree branch?

My mouth was thick and dry. I convulsed, close to retching.

"Carlisle," Esme hissed behind me. Her soft hands ran along my hairline. "It's okay, Bella. He's stable, he's going to be okay." Her forehead rested against my temple, her words a breath against my earlobe. "We have to believe that, no matter what."

I nodded and sat back, attempting to swallow, when Em and Rose rounded the corner.

"Izzy!" I was in Emmett's arms in seconds, off of the ground and wrapped around his neck, sucking in gulps of air. "Christ, Izzy, I thought you were dead too! Where have you been?"

"No, Em, I'm fine, I'm here." I sighed. "It's a long story."

I didn't mention the nickname.

Then my feet were on the ground, but Emmett's arm remained around my shoulders, pushing me back to my seat next to Esme. Rosalie stood to Emmett's right, her expression torn between exhaustion, fear, and … was that appreciation?

The hell?

"Shit, if we'd have known you were coming, we would've gotten you some coffee. The fucked up stuff they serve here tastes like whore crotch."

"Emmett!" Rose's hand landed broadside against the back of the giant teddy bear's head. He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Rosie."

I chuckled. Only Emmett could make me chuckle while I felt on the verge of losing my … coffee. The thought made me nauseous again.

"It's okay, Em. I'm not really sure I could have digested anything right now anyway."

Nodding, Em tucked one arm around me and pulled my head into his shoulder. The chair next to him squeaked when Rosalie sat down.

"If you need to talk, Bella –"

"Dr. Cullen?" A feminine voice interrupted Rosalie. Every head in the waiting room turned. "Your son has been moved into room 524. Two at a time, please." The short, African American nurse handed Carlisle a hospital chart and exited the waiting area.

Carlisle flipped through the pages and glanced at his wife, eyebrow raised. Esme released a deep breath and stood, linking her arm through Carlisle's. My chest clenched so tightly, I couldn't breathe.

I needed to see him, now. But I wasn't his "family". I would have to wait.

Part of me tried to convince myself it was only fair; I was the one who had put both Edward and Alice in this situation. Even if he didn't know who Edward was.

However, the other, much louder part of me screamed that he was mine, he would always be mine, and I needed the reassurance he wasn't gone again. With every heart beat, I could feel the oxygen leaking from my lungs.

Em and Rose whispered quietly between each other, Em's arm still wrapped snugly around me as I struggled to breathe, to wait. It seemed like an eternity until Esme and Carlisle finally stepped back into the waiting area.

My eyes snapped to Esme's face, her blotched, ruddy cheeks, damp eyes, and drawn expression.

Fuck.

Whatever waited in that room wasn't pretty.

I clenched my fists, waiting to see who would go next, longing to be sent into that little square space. Carlisle cradled Esme's shaking hands and looked above me, to Emmett.

"Considering the circumstances, Emmett, would you and Bella like to see him now?"

Emmett's voice rumbled in my ear. I felt my entire body turn to steel.

"Thanks, Mr. Cullen, that would be great."

"Carlisle, please. Fifteen minutes, Emmett. Hospital rules."

Emmett stood next to me, but my muscles clenched, unmoving. He raised an eyebrow.

I had to do it. I had never had this reconciliation before, never seen what I needed to know. I had helped to cause this problem; I could deal with the consequences.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, through my bunched, twisted joints, and stood to my feet.

Emmett practically carried me towards the door, his big palms shaking lightly beneath my arms. I stared at the wooden surface, listening to the stiff, staccato beats of the monitor and some sort of whooshing noise which echoed faintly into the hallway.

"Em," I whispered, halting in my tracks.

"It's okay, Izzy. I'm here. I'm with you."

I grabbed for his sweaty hand and cradled it in both of mine. He'd never left me yet.

"Open it, please, Emmett."

His other hand reached out and twisted the long handle, pushing the door open.

The room hovered amid light and dim, an in between I couldn't name which left my eyes shocked from the sterile lights of the hospital hallway. The beating rhythm filled my ears, a steady beeping in tune with a hollow thudding which resonated with a rush of wind hitting every other heartbeat.

I was listening to the love of my life live.

Emmett and I took five hesitant steps forward, coming around the side of the curtain and into full view of the hospital bed. I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet. I'm still not sure if it was in shock or an unconscious need to escape reality.

My best friend caught me as I nearly collapsed into his arms, knees giving out from beneath me.

"Emmett," I whined, eyes fixed on the ground.

"You're stronger than this, Iz." Em pulled me upwards, straightening my jelly knees. "He needs us. He needs you."

My young, teenage mind cried no. I swallowed, feeling around my tongue.

I told her yes.

I stepped to his bedside and wrapped my clammy hands around his.

"Trevor … Edward," my voice cracked. I swallowed. "I'm here. It's Bell – It's Izzy, Edward. I'm here."

I stroked the inside of his wrist, his skin hot and dry, smooth and riddled with a fine mess of clean white scars and raised red scrapes. A tear hit the inside of his palm.

I choked on a sob.

The left side of his face was swollen, disfigured, streaked with two or three long, thin red gashes. One cut straight through the scar on his left eyebrow, leaving an 'x' to rest on the side of his face. A thick, padded stretch of gauze peaked out from his hospital gown, resting a few inches from his heart.

Where the tree tried to steal his life.

I'm gonna find that mother fucker and make it wish it was never a tree.

The thought was so inane, so sudden, I chuckled with tears dripping down my cheeks.

Wires expanded from every exposed bit of skin; at least five different monitors hummed around the three of us, our lungs expanding with every whoosh of Edward's oxygen respirator. Two thin tubes were taped against his nose, providing him with pure, fresh O2 in an effort to restore his healing limbs.

I couldn't find an inch that wasn't bruised, battered, bashed, cut or torn. If not for the shock of red-brown hair, which was now shaved close to his head to reveal another thick, red gash, and the distinct, aquiline nose, I'm not sure I would have recognized him.

My heart beat double time, rejecting that sentiment.

I would have recognized him anywhere. I knew him from the beginning, and no matter how hard I fought it, it was more than obvious now.

Leaning down, I kissed a bit of forehead that wasn't battle scarred, pressed my cheek against him, working not to scoop his fragile, but still strong looking body into my arms, and whispered my truths to his unconscious mind.

"I love you, Edward. Always have." I sniffed, listening to Emmett's feet shuffle uncomfortably behind me. I didn't care. "Forever and ever, for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."

I could only pray that would be longer than today.

*throws glitter and ponies in an attempt to distract you*

No? Damn ... Mezz said that would work. Well ... would a Mini-moment showing the actions of Edward and Esme in between this chapter and last chapter help at all?

I hope so, cause I'll be doing my best to dodge the stones while I send out one with every review. :)