Author's Note: Well, I'm back! I didn't want to put this story on hold, but I was overwhelmed with an insanely busy schedule and some application related stress (I would imagine anyone who is applying either to academic programs or to jobs can understand just how draining the process can be- thankfully I am on the other side of the chaos now, and cheerfully settled into a program and a job that I think I'm well suited to). Many apologies for taking so painfully long to update - I'm just happy to once more be in a place where I can devote time and energy to the stories I love so much. As always, do let me know if you catch any errors so I can make them disappear.

xx

For a moment Bella could have sworn she saw a flicker of pain on Edward Cullen's face, but then his smile widened into a wolfish grin, and she was sure that she had to have been mistaken. "Why didn't you tell me we knew each other?"

"Why didn't you remember?" He countered, his brilliantly green eyes alight with something that almost could have been anger.

Bella didn't have an answer for that, and suddenly Emmett Cullen, who had been watching her silently, threw his head back with a bark of laughter. Behind him, a handful of people had gathered to watch. "Isabella Swan! Took me a minute there to place her," he said in an aside to Edward, "didn't expect to see you here. Weren't you off at Harvard or someplace last we heard?"

"Stanford," Bella corrected him quietly. Neither of the other Cullen brothers had ever disturbed her quite as much as Edward, but Emmett in all of his enormity was undeniably intimidating, especially now with an equally large gun on him.

"Where's Jasper?" Edward asked, ignoring Bella entirely.

Emmett shook his head. "Not back yet."

Edward swore, viciously, and with a glance in her direction, almost as if he sought to horrify her. Oh, yes, this was the Edward she remembered, brutally strong and unsettlingly crude. It was odd, how she had almost seen a different side of him for a few brief moments in the visitor center. "I'll be back," he said, pausing to check that his gun was loaded before he slung it back over his shoulder and crossed to the bridge.

"Edward?" Emmett tried to follow his brother, and it was only then that Bella noticed the eldest Cullen brother was walking with a pronounced limp. Her gaze traveled down his leg, and she saw some darker stains against the dark material of his pants leg. "You should take someone with you. Carlisle can—"

"I'll be fine," Edward snapped. "Keep everyone safe. I'll be back with Jasper soon."

"Keep your eyes open," Emmett called to his brother as Edward jogged back across the bridge. He was going on foot this time, Bella noticed, and couldn't quite stifle a jolt of fear for his sake. She wouldn't have gone back across that bridge on foot for anything. "Damn it," Emmett muttered under his breath. "I'm going to go get Carlisle." He turned to go, still moving quite stiffly, but caught sight of Rosalie out of the corner of his eye. He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, but Rosalie flinched away, and his hand dropped quickly to his side. "You okay?" Emmett asked Rosalie seriously, looking her up and down. "Everything go okay? No problems?"

Rosalie stared back at him with great hostility. "We were fine. No problems."

"Good. I'm gonna go find Carlisle. When I come back I want to hear how you ended up here," he said, pointing to Bella with a wide smile. "Bet old Edward got the surprise of his life." Laughing to himself, he limped away.

As soon as his back was turned, Rosalie's gaze darted to his back, and she stared critically at his slow and painful process. "You really should use a walking stick," she shouted to him.

"Walking sticks are for old men," came the reply.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and turned to face Bella. "So you and Edward know each other?" She frowned. "From before?"

"We went to high school together," Bella filled her in.

Rosalie blinked. "And you just figured that out now?" the corner of her lip quirked into the beginning of a smirk.

"I was dehydrated," Bella said, a little irritated at having to defend herself. "I'd been walking for days and days. And… he hid his accent." What she didn't tell Rosalie was that they hadn't been close in high school, had hardly interacted at all, and she'd known him mostly by that deep drawl and his unsettling predatory stare, neither of which had been on display when he'd discovered her in the Visitors Center. No wonder she hadn't recognized him. Not only had he matured and put on many pounds of muscle, but he had been almost… polite.

Rosalie raised an eyebrow skeptically at the excuse. "Okay, well, whatever." The blonde turned to speak to the handful of people who stood outside the tents, watching Bella curiously. "This Bella," Rosalie said as she began the introductions. "Bella, this is Maryann," she gestured to a heavyset blonde woman in her mid-thirties, "her husband Walter, and their children Ryan, Cody and Michelle." The children looked between the ages of three and seven, and were all quite adorable and remarkably unscathed for kids who had survived an apocalypse. "They were camping on the island when the outbreak happened." Rosalie explained. "This is Nora," Rosalie continued, and a woman who looked to be in her mid-sixties stepped forward with a warm smile. It was the kindest expression Bella had seen in something like a week, and she felt her own face melting into a smile in response. "And this is Joe." Joe was in his late forties, and wore what remained of a suit. The jacket was missing, one sleeve was torn clear off, and the front was splattered with specks of blood. Both of his shoes were similarly drenched in the stuff. Bella couldn't see a scratch on him, so it had to be someone else's blood, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. "We've tried to get him to put on something else, but he refuses to change," Rosalie whispered, her face suddenly close to Bella's ear. Bella nodded, and then glanced away from her fellow survivors to survey the island.

From where she stood Bella couldn't tell how large the island was. There was, as Rosalie had told her, a single bridge that stretched from the shore of the lake to the island. It didn't look as if it was meant for cars, though, it was too narrow and the base didn't look properly reinforced. The island itself was scrubby and overgrown. Beside the SUV there were two pickup trucks and one car parked at the edge of the island, near the mouth of the bridge, and higher on the island was a cluster of five or six small tents. A fire pit was set up nearby, along with a pile of camping equipment and some coolers.

"It's not much," Rosalie said grimly. "And we have to guard the bridge night and day. But it's kept us safe so far."

It was more than Bella could have hoped for.