The night was not an easy one.

Carlisle had left, fully intending to give them their space, and Bella her sleep, but found himself hovering nearby, worried by her still distressed breathing.

Edward was getting a much clearer, and uglier picture of what had happened to her. Her body, impressed in its very musculature, with the distress of what Jacob had done, wound itself into the violent shape he had forced on her. She resembled a grotesque violin: one hand stretched above her head, a tight, wooden fist, her back arched, one limp hand horizontal to her—a broken bow. The discord of her nightmare ran through her centre, knees bent hollow, straining into the mattress.

He held her down, Edward realized, after she'd punched him.

When her hand was too damaged to defend herself.

Edward was afraid to touch her, too full of rage to be gentle, and fearful his hands would lend tactile reality to her already lucid dream.

He whispered to her instead, "It's just a dream, Bella. Wake up. I'm here, you're safe." He repeated it until she did, sweating, shaking, nervous, flicking eyes showing she wasn't sure where she was.

"You're home," he said, risking touching her hand. "No one will hurt you."

She said nothing, but curled into his form, kicking off the heated blanket, wanting to know only the safe chill of his body.

When she began to shiver, he pulled the blanket back up. Her breathing had returned to a worrisome shallow pant.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" he asked.

She nodded.

He went to get up from the bed, but she gasped, hands digging into him, panicked he was leaving.

If it wasn't for the distress of what she had gone through, he would be happy with this development. He never wanted to be parted from her, and now he had his wish, in the most distorted way possible.

Carlisle had knocked softly. "Come in," Edward called.

When Bella saw him, by the low light of the bedside lamp Edward had turned on, she said, "no," fearing he'd come with morphine.

He gave a quiet "hello," and put three bottles of pills on the table. "If you can't take a deep breath, you won't get better," Carlisle said.

Her grip tightened on Edward's shirt. "No morphine," she murmured.

"No," he said lightly, "no morphine. I'm afraid you're stuck with plain old non-prescription painkillers." He picked up the bottles, pulling out a dose, handing them to Edward. "Which I will leave all the convincing of taking to with Edward."

Edward made a sound that might have been a chuckle, palming them.

"These, though," Carlisle said, rattling the third bottle, "are in case you need help sleeping, which I hear is also important for humans. Along with breathing," he added dryly.

He stood. "They won't give you dreams," he said softly, and left.

"Please," Edward said. "Something," he said, "at least for the pain."

Bella blew out one of her shallow breaths, needing to struggle to take it back in again. She held out her hand for the pills, taking them in an awkward swallow.

"Thank you," he said.

"Drug pusher," she mumbled, but good naturedly, making him chuckle more distinctly. She'd calmed a bit, and shifted in the bed, sitting up more fully beside him.

If his own heart still beat, it would have been thudding, looking at her. Her hair had fanned out behind her, the rich blush of her skin its own light. He moved slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted to, bringing his lips to hers. Her hands rested on his cheeks, one more awkwardly than the other in its cast, and he felt her shoulders relax at his touch.

He pulled back after a moment, watching carefully, looking for any sign of distress.

"No," she said, smiling, "that hasn't changed."

"Good," he said, matching her expression, running his finger along her cheek. Then he kissed her again, testing the limits of this togetherness, his own hands cupped at her face.

He didn't want to stop, and neither did she, but he pulled back. "More tomorrow," he said, hearing her sigh. "But first, sleep."

"Yes'm," she said, turning her cast into a mock salute, then looked over at the bedside table, eyeing the familiar bottle there, picking it up, starting to try to open it.

Edward took it from her, twisting the cap off, and returning it to her.

"Now that," she said, "is really annoying."

"Mm," Edward said, in such a way that told Bella that she'd just have to suck it up.

She placed the small tablet under her tongue, hoping Carlisle was right.

When she woke the next morning, she felt fuzzy, almost blurred around the edges of her mind. It took her the panicked stretch of a minute to remember where she was.

By the time it resolved, she had laid, clearly awake to Edward, but completely unresponsive to his voice. He was on the verge of summoning Carlisle when she finally took as deep a breath as her lungs would allow, and opened her eyes.

"Bella?" he asked again, perched nervously over her.

"I'm here," she answered, more to herself, than him.

"You are," he made himself reply gently, silencing his still vigorous anxiety.

She sat up slowly, remembering what today was, reminding herself of the protection this would provide. That they would never have to be apart.

He could see the muscles in her shoulders and back release. His own followed suit.

"What time do we have to be there?" she asked, realizing they hadn't talked about the details. She blushed, thinking of it. Did one make an appointment to get married? Or just show up?

"No time, in particular, but I think earlier would be better for you," he said.

"OK," she said, moving to stand, which he also mirrored. Now the blush was vibrant. "Um, I need to use the bathroom."

"So I surmised," he said, an eyebrow raised, smiling. He'd been wondering how far her insistence on their togetherness went.

"Can you stay outside the door?" she asked shyly, "where I can see you?"

He looked at her, eyes narrowed slightly, "I will," he said, "but I expect you to tell me if you get dizzy, OK?"

The blush turned scarlet.

"What?" he grinned, "I can see you naked, but not on the toilet?"

She let a small laugh bubble out of her. "We all have our lines, I suppose."

As she was leaving the bathroom, there was a soft knock at the door. "You two lovebirds decent?"

"Yes, Rose," Edward called, and then looked at Bella apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can quite spare you all the wedding fluff."

Rose poked her head into the room. "Good, you are up," she said. Alice breezed by her, a cheerful "morning!" on her lips, a garment bag over her arm, followed by Esme, who was carrying a tray that steamed seductively.

Bella looked sideways at Edward, who whispered, taking her hand, "say the word, and we can be alone."

She was nervous, he could see, with so many people, even just family, around, and he turned away briefly, still holding her hand, saying, below her hearing, "maybe just one of you at a time for now."

"Bon appetit," Esme said, putting the tray by the bed, leaving with Alice, who blew Bella a kiss from the door, jumping a little in excitement.

"She really does love weddings," Edward said. "Even at the courthouse."

Bella smiled, and breathed out nervously.

"You eat," Rose said, "and I'll do your hair." She sat behind Bella on the bed, and began brushing.

In a pert voice, Bella asked Edward, "Do I get a doll house to live in too?"

"Sorry," he chuckled, "just this one," gesturing to his room, but then more seriously, "unless you'd like our own place. We can do that, if you want."

There was a flicker of appeal, and then a frisson of fear, wondering about being alone, about what Edward would expect.

He caught the shift, saying, "we don't have to do this," looking towards the dress, and back to her, "unless you want to," misinterpreting the change in her.

"No," she said, "I do," and then laughed at her choice of words.

"Cute," Rose quipped, making a tidy braid.

After a bit, Bella spoke again, "I'm just…" she shook her head, "odd things—"

"Set you off?" Rose supplied, finishing the last piece of the braid. "Of course they do," and she looked at Edward, eyebrows lined up in the universal sign for I-told-you-so. She hopped off the bed, and was gone.

Bella looked at Edward, wanting to dismiss Rose's blitheness, but couldn't find it in herself to. She was right. She took a spoonful of breakfast instead, some sort of soup, rich with a bouquet of flavours she hadn't encountered before.

"Vietnamese," Edward said, seeing her surprise.

"It's amazing," Bella said. "It still blows my mind that you are all such good cooks, when you don't eat." Then she paled, putting the spoon down.

"What?" Edward asked, suspicions rising.

"You'll need to hunt," she said, trying not to let her breathing race. She knew she couldn't be near him when that happened.

He squeezed her hand. "Not going anywhere," he said. "Won't need to for a long time."

This was a blatant untruth. She knew he had just under a week before he entered territory he himself called dangerous. She gave a small smile, though, not having the energy to argue, and went back to her soup, less enthusiastically than before.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling her back over to him, "I know that look. What's worrying you?"

It was easy to smile with him, to take the kiss he offered, to smooth her hands over the softness of his face, but then he slid his hand to her hip, steadying her.

She jerked as if he'd burned her, her heart beating a wild tattoo.

He moved his hands just enough away, ready to catch her if she fell.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked.

Her eyes began to water, "nothing," she whispered, "I just…" she didn't know how to explain it.

Edward put his hands slowly to her back, settling her onto the bed, so she was sitting beside him.

"I interrupted you answering my question," he said, "what's bothering you?"

She sighed. "You will need to hunt, and we will need to be apart—soon."

"We'll find a way around it," he said, "OK? But you don't need to worry about it today."

She'd eaten a bit more, but not much, and when he lifted his chin in the direction of the tray, she shook her head. "You, however," he said, "do need to eat more frequently than me."

"Can we not worry about that today, too?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Debatable," he said, but not pressing the point. He stood and picked up the garment bag Alice had brought in. "Ready to get dressed?" he asked, unzipping it.

"Oh," she said, seeing the dress Alice had made. "Wow."

She'd set aside her nerves out of necessity, when Carlisle told her Alice was sewing, but they'd risen, unbidden, when Alice had arrived in the morning. She'd had visions of some lace or meringue monstrosity. This, though, was simple, and elegant: a heavy cream knee-length dress, capped with a high tulip collar, and long, demure bell sleeves.

"She wanted something that hid your cast," he said, "in case you wanted to take pictures."

When the next wave of tears found their way out of her eyes, Bella felt more annoyed with herself, than anything else. Why did she need to cry over everything these days?

"I would," Bella said, "like to take pictures. For Mom," and then there were more tears, "and Dad."

Edward held her, burying his face in her hair. "We can always have a ceremony, later, for friends and family," he said. He did not address the issue of her father, whose very continued existence Charlie ignorantly owed to the love Edward bore his daughter.

"Do you want help?" Edward asked, wondering where the lines of her shyness lay, and if they would reassert themselves, as she felt safe.

The thought of dressing her was remarkably appealing, as was the reciprocal thought of undressing her.

There were other thoughts that followed those lines, which he guiltily, and quickly dismissed.

"If you can help with the zipper, I think I'm good," Bella said, blushing.

"Not looking," he said lightly, turning his head away, "tell me when you're ready."

She called his name softly, and he set his hand to hold the sides of the garment together, zipping it up slowly. His mind was too eager to imagine the reverse process, and he reminded himself of exactly why they were getting married, and thrashed the beast of his desire back into submission.

He wouldn't let her walk down the stairs, and when they arrived at the bottom, Emmett snickered. "That's my brother, ass backwards, carrying his bride on the way to the wedding." Emmett slapped him on the back, once Bella was safely on her feet.

"Almost ready," Alice chimed, arriving with a large paper bag in one hand. The rest of the Cullens were assembled, and it was only Bella who stood shoeless.

"And you've got her barefoot already," Emmett went on, waggling his eyebrows, looking towards the kitchen meaningfully.

Rose looked at him, face dark and brooding, and he muttered, "sorry," and became uncharacteristically quiet.

"Here," Alice said, ignoring Emmett, pulling a pair of shoes out from the bag, "something borrowed," and smiled at Rose.

"And something blue," Esme said, picking up a bouquet of indigo hydrangeas from the entranceway table.

"Thank you, everyone," Bella said slowly, awed by the care they'd all given to this.

"You got something new in there, Alice?" Emmett asked. "Because Edward covers the old part."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Emmett, let's go."

The drive to Port Angeles was far under the hour it would have taken Bella, and she was glad she'd eaten little by the time they got there. Edward held her hand, as they walked into the red brick courthouse.

"Not Vegas," he said apologetically.

She smiled. "Better than Vegas," she said, "less driving."

He laughed.

When the judicial clerk called them, Bella found herself suddenly nervous again, and Edward turned to face her, hands in his, watching.

"I love you," she said, "are you sure you want me?"

He leaned forward and kissed her, murmuring, "I would marry you a thousand times, to assure you of that."

The curve of her lips was soft, and warm. "Hold you to it, then," she said, and they turned, as one, to meet the judge.

"Wait," Alice said, ducking forward, pulling one last thing out of her bag. "Something new," she said, pinning a simple veil to the back of Bella's head.

Bella felt silly, but only for a moment, when she caught Edward's eyes. They were waning in colour, but lustrous. His gaze was all for her, and when the judge spoke, Edward's eyes studied her face, and all the beautiful colours that shimmered over her cheeks.

When the judge asked for the rings, Bella shot him a panicked look, realizing she hadn't even thought of this. Edward smiled, whispering, "and something old—my mother's and father's," as Carlisle put the rings on the judge's book.

At the last words, Bella was so overwhelmed with feeling, she needed to close her eyes when he kissed her, reminding herself to keep breathing.

It was so easy to forget to under his touch.

Emmett coughed, and the judge cleared his throat.

There was a schedule, after all.

"Congratulations, Mr. Cullen," and then looking at Bella, "Mrs.?" he asked, not quite sure. She blushed, nodding. "Congratulations Mrs. Cullen," he added, an arm kindly, but purposefully pointing their way out. Bella became aware of the click of a camera, seeing the dark shape in Alice's hands.

Edward made Bella sit down in the waiting area, not alarmed, but certainly concerned by the wanness of her cheeks, so rosy moments before.

He followed her line of sight.

She was staring a young couple, clearly the next in line to be married, waiting much more anxiously than she had. The young woman's protuding belly marked her as very near birth.

Edward wished he knew where Bella's thoughts lay, but lacking that gift, whispered what he knew of the ruminations of the woman she looked at. "She thinks you look beautiful," he said, not adding that this was tinged with some envy, and a wish that she'd been able to dress herself better than she had.

Bella knew there was more to the young woman's pensiveness, and standing too quickly for Edward's liking, took several steps towards the other couple. "Congratulations in advance," she said, "you need something borrowed, and something blue." Bella pulled the veil from her hair, and offered it to the woman, adding, "kinda doubt I'm going to use this again." The woman smiled, and took it, and the bouquet with a sincere "thank you."

She let Edward take her hand again, this time sliding a sturdy arm around her waist, barely letting her walk as they left the courthouse.

"Where to, Mrs. Cullen?" he asked gently.

"Home," she said, and disposing with all pretense, he picked her up, and carried her to the car.