Edward was still sitting by the bed, unmoved for all the hours that had passed, waiting for Bella to wake.

"Morning," he murmured, hearing her eyes open.

She blinked a few times, sifting through the previous night's memories. "Morning," she finally said, sitting up slowly.

He wanted to help her. The pull of her muscles was all wrong. They were tight and anxious when they should have been waking slowly. Even her breathing was off. They'd have to watch that, he realized. She'd been fighting a cold, and he knew well enough the risks that sore ribs could present, mixed with that.

Esme had come up with a tray of food a few minutes before. Bella's circadian rhythms were easy enough for the rest of them to hear.

He had the vial of pills in his hand.

She looked over at the rattle, grimacing a little. Then she caught sight of the tray, and it turned into a frown.

"I'm not sick," she said, blushing.

"No," he said, "not yet. But you've had stitches. Best to stay put as much as you can today."

He handed her two of the pills, which she took with a sigh, swallowing them, making a face.

"Thank you," he said quietly, almost with a sigh.

"Prefer me drugged, huh?" she smiled.

He chuckled, his own smile wide, hearing her sense of humour alive and well.

"Esme brought you breakfast," he said, hoping he could get her to eat, riding the coattails of this good humour.

She cocked an eyebrow, leaning over, and then laughed. "Impressive," she said, picking up one of the pop-tarts. "Nutritious, too."

"Don't get used to it," he said, grimacing a little. It bothered him to no end that she considered this appropriate nourishment, but he wouldn't badger her about it today.

When she'd eaten, she pulled back the covers, moving to get out of bed.

"Um," she said, seeing him going to help her. "I think I can go to the bathroom by myself."

"Humour me," he said, slipping his arm around her.

Standing, and taking a step, she stopped suddenly. "Oh," she said, not quite able to stop the sound.

"What?" Edward asked.

She shook her head.

He clamped his lips together. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't summon Carlisle. Not after his idiotic decision last night.

"Bella," he said, tone full of worry and warning.

"Just a new sensation," she said, clearing her throat. A very unpleasant, wrong sensation, in a very private place.

"I'm OK," she insisted, "and I'd really like to be able to pee alone. I promise to let you worry all over me when I come back."

He didn't even think about not kissing her, just leaned in and kissed the top of her head, and then mentally, reeled. What was he doing?

She felt it. "It's OK," she said, "we're still us." She wanted to ask, "right?", but didn't. She was too nervous to.

"Of course," he said, "always."

She nodded, slipping into the ensuite, closing the door behind her.

He made himself walk away, listening to her sneeze, and then cough. He didn't miss the pained tightening he could hear her make, as the air pushed out of her lungs.

Carlisle made his thoughts audible, I'll check her before I go to work.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Bella emerged from the bathroom, changed into the clothes that had been left for her there.

"Thanks," she said, a little uncertainly, gesturing to them.

"You're welcome!" Alice called, from somewhere in the house.

Bella smiled. "Total opportunist," she called back, breaking off into another cough.

Edward was practically prancing with worry. "Come back to bed," he said, "or maybe you'd prefer to lay down on the couch?"

The thought of facing all the Cullens felt daunting. "Um, here's fine," she said.

Edward slid in beside her, a careful arm around her. He'd waited to ask, the question rattling around in his anxiety. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Why did you put yourself through that alone?"

She swallowed, breathing suddenly shakier than it should be.

He wanted to spare her all this, but he needed to know.

"The battle," she whispered. "The wolves—it would've jeopardized the alliance. I couldn't—what if you'd gotten into a fight with them, or someone had gotten hurt?" Her voice rose with each word, high and becoming even shakier.

Edward nodded, still holding her, trying to offer comfort with the soft squeeze of his hands. "What happened," he asked, "when Jacob took you up the mountain?"

Her sudden stiffening told him something had.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. She wouldn't torture him with the things that didn't matter.

"Bella," he said, putting his lips in his hair, "no more lies. If you don't want to say, that's fine, but..."

She swallowed nervously, nodding. He hadn't run off, or done anything foolish. Not yet. Would he still restrain himself, if he knew, in more detail, what Jacob had done?

"I'd rather not talk about it," she said nervously.

He really couldn't help himself, moving his arms to curve around her, "please forgive me for saying this, but I need to be honest with you." He paused before continuing. "It would help me, to know, rather than imagining the worst."

"You are good at that," she said, giving him a half smile, then feeling the tears stinging in the corners of her eyes.

"Very," he agreed, his sad smile matching hers.

"How much do you want to know?" she asked.

"Everything," he said.

Of course he did.

He told me he should have been more gentle when he raped me, and that he really should have said sorry for hurting me right after he did. Not that he used those words. Then I'm pretty sure he told me I was still lying to myself about how i wanted it. "He said he was sorry he hurt me," she mumbled.

Edward nodded ever so slightly, wanting to encourage her to speak.

He forced his tongue into my mouth, holding my head with his hands so I couldn't move, and made me feel like I was going to vomit. "He kissed me."

"He asked me when I was going to tell you. Why I hadn't told you already. Told me he loved me."

Sitting behind her, Edward winced

"Did anything else happen?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"And in the morning?"

"Can we stop, please?" she asked. "I don't—I really don't want to talk about this, Edward."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I love you so much. I'm so sorry this has happened to you. That I let this—"

"You let?" she asked, turning to fully face him. "How does that figure?"

"It's my job to protect you, Bella. I put you in his hands. Literally, I—"

"Did as I asked," she said quietly. "And I don't want you to stop doing that. And right now, I'd really like to stop talking about this."

He ground his teeth together, biting back the words he wanted to say, swallowing them.

Bitter. It was oh so bitter.

Carlisle was knocking though, loud enough for Bella to hear its soft sound.

"It's Carlisle," Edward explained, "he wants to see you before he leaves for work."

"Right," Bella said, paling a little.

Carlisle entered, a small case in his hand. "Hi Bella," he said, and looking at Edward added, "I'll call when I'm done."

Edward's gaze met Bella's, eyebrows up, questioning.

"It's OK," she said, trying to smile.

This alarmed Edward even more.

Quietly, Carlisle turned, and pretending to look in the case, spoke to Edward, so only he could hear. "Everyone else has left. I'd like her to have privacy for this, Edward. I'm sure you do too. I won't leave until you've returned."

Hiding the sigh he wanted to give, Edward kissed Bella gently on the top of her head, breathing in deeply, not moving until he felt her arms loosen around him.

"See you soon," he said.

Carlisle noted the uptick in her heart rate, having Edward leave, and wondered if she'd guessed why he'd asked him to.

He'd only asked the most basic questions the night before, keeping them circumspectly tied to her body's present needs.

These questions would pick at things she might not have yet given thought to.

"How're your ribs feeling?" he asked, sitting on the side of the bed, pulling out a stethoscope.

Her brow furrowed, seeing it. "I thought that was purely for show."

"It is," he said, "most of the time, but it is handy for hearing lung sounds. May I?" he asked, gesturing to her back.

"Sure," she said, braiding her fingers together nervously, trying not to start at the cold touch of the metal.

"So far so good," he said, "but I want you to work on taking deep breaths at least three times a day—more if you can stand it."

"Sure," she said.

"How're the stitches feeling?" he asked.

She really hoped he didn't want to check those.

"Fine," she said, too quickly.

Carlisle considered her answer for a bit. "They might feel strange, or you might get the odd unpleasant sensation, and that's normal, but if you get any pain, let me know, OK?"

She nodded, a relieved breath let out slowly.

"I just need to ask a few more questions," he said, still in his soft voice. "The assault happened Friday, yes?"

Bella nodded, looking away nervously towards the floor.

"When was the first day of your last menstrual period?"

She looked at his face, mouth opening, stomach revolting, and then bolted, awkwardly, for the bathroom.

Carlisle knew better than to follow too close, waiting a few steps from the door. When she came back out, a shaky, damp hand at her mouth, he gave her a quiet, "I'm sorry Bella, I know this upsetting."

She could only nod, sitting back down.

"Do you know the date?"

"Yes," she said as calmly as possible, "about two weeks ago."

"Was there any birth control used during the attack?"

The curtain of her hair rustled, as her head moved back and forth.

"It's too late for emergency birth control, isn't it?" she asked.

"It is," he said. "But there are other early methods available, if there is a pregnancy."

No wonder he'd asked Edward to leave.

"I'd also like to cast your hand," he said, touching the limb in question lightly.

Bella didn't need to ask why. It hadn't gotten better, and the dull ache it had settled had become fiery and sharp again.

He was pulling things from the case he'd brought in, quietly setting it, when he spoke again. "I also wanted to ask if you had any questions, Bella, about anything."

She did, and Carlisle could see, from the taut workings of her face, that she was searching for words for the asking of them.

After a minute, she said, "Is what happened—the damage," she hurried out, "is that normal?"

Carlisle felt the familiar despair, at hearing this question. It wasn't the first time. That anything should be normal about rape—made his own insides twist. It was better now, in this century, in this place, but only just.

"Yes," he said, avoiding any qualifying statements that would complicate the response.

"It's not because he's a werewolf, then?" Bella asked, slowly.

"No," Carlisle said, and wondered at her questions. "Is there something else you're wondering?"

She nodded, a small blush creeping up her cheeks as her jaw clenched. She said the next words very quietly. "I was wondering if that was why Edward didn't...want to—,"

Carlisle's horrified "no!" was louder than it should have been. "No," he said more quietly. "He would never do that to you." He returned his attention to her hand, wrapping the final pieces of the casting material in place.

"OK," she said, accepting this with some relief.

After a moment, Carlisle spoke again, "is there anything else you're wondering about?"

Bella was working up to her next question. "Is there anything else I need to know?" she asked.

Carlisle applied the last layer, pressing it on carefully, waiting for it to set. "You've experienced a traumatic event, Bella. Be kind to yourself. Expect it to take time to be well—physically, and mentally."

"Thank you," she said. "Anything else?"

"No," Carlisle said, standing, putting his supplies away, "but I want to see you in about a week to take the stitches out, and in another week for a pregnancy test."

She swallowed, breathing suddenly shallow, and rapid.

"Everything will be alright, Bella," he added gently, his cold hand over her free warm one.

She nodded, a half smile on her lips, wishing she could believe him.