Bella had refused to head back to bed when they got home. "I'm not an invalid," she protested, face pale, legs weak from standing longer than she was accustomed to.

Despite the fact that she looked like she was about to fall over from exhaustion, Edward humoured her, smiling softly. It wasn't like he would actually let her fall over—and if he did, certainly not get hurt.

Her protest against being coddled made, Bella sat down on the couch, her body sliding further down by inches, until she was leaning, half reclined against Edward, feet tucked beneath her, almost in the grip of sleep.

Carlisle was home from work, he and Esme murmuring quietly over paperwork at the dining room table. Emmett was watching a game, the volume low enough to be inaudible to Bella. Rose was in the garage, fiddling with the undercarriage of the jeep, giving Bella's truck the occasional dirty look for daring to exist. She'd silently asked Edward, when the couple'd returned, you're not seriously going to consider keeping this monstrosity, are you?

Edward had ignored her, focused on seeing Bella inside the house.

Bella's startled grunt brought his attention squarely back to her.

"What?" he asked, seeing her shift. Something had hurt. That much was apparent.

She shook her head, "just a muscle cramp," she said, rubbing her lower abdomen.

Then the smell of blood reached Edward.

He understood, with a precise, and horrified clarity what this signified.

"Don't," he muttered almost silently to his family, hearing Carlisle's thoughts. "She doesn't need to know. Not yet."

Emmett had stood, turning off the TV, leaving quickly, going to hunt. His thoughts were painfully disordered.

Esme slipped away too, taking her pronounced distress with her.

Better now, Carlisle thought to his son. For so many reasons.

Bella had laid back down against Edward, her face pointed away from him. She couldn't see his lips moving, or hear his words either.

"It might not take, or last," Edward said, his own emotions strangling even this quietest voice.

And if she knows that you knew, now? Carlisle prodded, gently. Do you want that between you?

Edward's hands were silently grinding into fists. He looked at his wife, swallowing. Did he?

No. He didn't.

But he didn't want to tell her what she'd just felt was the implanting of blastocyst.

That what Jacob had done had taken root in her.

So many pregnancies failed, many without even the knowledge of the woman in question.

He hadn't told her about Sam's visit either. She'd asked for a normal day, and he wanted nothing more than give her a semblance of that, not to perpetually freshen Jacob's violation.

You can't build trust on such concealment, Carlisle was thinking, no matter how painful the truth is. One man has already broken it. Don't be the second.

Bella felt, more than heard the snarl, but sinking into that peaceful near-slumber, didn't stir, trusting Edward, knowing he would keep her safe.

"I will not be compared to Jacob Black," Edward growled.

Then don't act like him, Carlisle shot back.

Edward swallowed, uncurling his hands, making himself be calm. "Bella?" he called softly.

"Mmm," she said, feeling pleasantly limp.

"You're bleeding, love," he said quietly.

"What?" she asked, sitting up too quickly.

He braced her, a careful hand at her back, watching her wobble, even seated.

Carlisle had discreetly disappeared, giving them the appearance of privacy.

"That wasn't a muscle cramp," he said, putting a hand just beside her hip. "That was very likely implantation bleeding."

"What's that?" She'd never heard the term.

He hated himself for being the bearer of the next words. For not having protected her from what Jacob had done. "It's the beginning of a pregnancy."

All the blood in her face slid downwards, the capillaries shrinking—retracting against this information, and the grey of the sky was worn in her cheeks.

"Oh," she said. "Oh," she said again. Then she didn't say anything. Edward kept massaging her good hand. It was the same temperature as his. "I don't—I don't feel very well," she finally managed. "I think—" she started, but then the world felt like it was sliding, colours bleeding together, all the pale shades of the house melting into one greyness, before it all became a sudden black.

When she returned to herself, she was in bed, and Carlisle was taking her blood pressure, quietly saying, "perfectly normal."

She was confused. Had Edward just told her—was she pregnant? Or had she dreamed that?

"You fainted, Bella," Carlisle said. "Completely understandable." He was handing her a glass of juice, nodding encouragingly towards it.

She shook her head, feeling nauseated by what she realized had been real.

Carlisle frowned, "no," he said, lightly pinching the back of her hand, watching it retract slowly, "you really do need to have something, Bella. This, or an IV. You're not eating and drinking enough."

She closed her eyes briefly, and then took the juice, taking the smallest of sips.

Carlisle raised his eyebrows at her, saying lighty, "Like those IV's, hmm?"

She couldn't help but smile at what she hoped was his sense of humour.

Edward interrupted. "Can we have a minute?" he asked.

Carlisle nodded, leaving the room, but not before mouthing "more" to Bella, eyeing the juice.

Edward sat beside her, "I'm sorry, but I have more things to tell you, that I'd rather not."

"OK," Bella said, bracing herself. What more could there be?

"Jacob phased," he started, and Bella nodded. "The pack saw what he did. To you," he clarified.

All the juice she'd consumed was violently ejected from her stomach.

"It's OK," he said, picking her up, carrying her to the bathroom, helping her clean up.

"Sorry," she said.

"For what?"

She half laughed, half sobbed, feeling exasperated with herself, the weakness her body presented her with. "This is just kinda gross. That's all."

"It's nothing," Edward said, bringing her a fresh shirt. "I seem to remember something about sickness and health, yesterday," he smiled.

"I think you got the bad end of the bargain there," she mumbled.

"Hardly," he said, caressing her cheek. "I love you."

But when he went to help her pull off her soiled shirt, she flinched, hands up defensively.

"I'll—I'll do it myself," she said softly.

"Of course," he answered, watching her blush. He turned away, eyes down while she changed, a distraught progression of emotions running over his face.

Her reaction was what he'd feared. More distress. Enough to make her physically ill.

He'd changed the bedding at a speed she couldn't comprehend, and taking her hand, pointed her back to it.

"No," she said, when he tried to offer her water. "I'm good."

She wasn't anything near it, but he didn't say anything else about it. There would be time later. He still had more to tell her.

"You were talking about," and she blanched again, saying more quietly, "what the pack saw."

Edward inhaled, and exhaled, "yes," he said. "They know what Jacob did." He made himself continue. "He broke free of Sam's control, Bella. He left. They followed him north, but he got away. They can't hear him." He stopped here, watching Bella's face, paler than pale.

She swallowed. "They don't know where he is." It was a whisper. She was trying to breathe normally. The air was getting thicker, harder to take in. "He could come back—he could—"

"He will never touch you again. I promise this," Edward said, voice fierce.

She shook her head. "You can't possibly know that," she breathed out.

"Never," he said again, daring her to contradict him. He would will it to be true in every possible way.

She smiled wanly, and the thin crust of his confidence disintegrated. That he should expect her trust, after he'd already so profoundly failed her—his pride would be the sharp edge of the knife that wounded her—again—if he wasn't careful.

"I will protect you with whatever I have, Bella. I can promise you that."

She squeezed his hand, and the tightness in his chest lifted a little.

After a moment, he said, in much softer tones, "because of what's happened, the council will allow us to change you—without it violating the treaty."

"And Jacob?" she asked. "What will they do with him? I mean," she started, "if they find him?"

"We don't know yet," Edward said, and fighting the desire to hold more truths from her, added, "we've asked for a...free hand, unless he returns to face his crimes."

A free hand. Bella remembered what she'd seen transpire between Edward and Victoria, and shuddered. She knew better than to think Jacob would return of his own volition. Not for justice. No. He'd said enough for her to know he thought his cause was just.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, feeling another shiver, "That I need to know?"

His chest felt heavy again. He would spare her every piece of painful news, if he could, but Carlisle's words floated too prominently in his conscience.

"Sam called your father. Told him that Jacob confessed, but ran." His fingers were massaging hers, the rhythm familiar and soft.

She nodded, trying to be brave, trying not to think about the fact that Charlie hadn't called her. Hadn't even tried to reach out.

Or apologize.

"Oh," she said, wiping at her eyes.

"I suspect he will have heard our news, too," Edward said, "from his colleague."

The nod was becoming mechanical.

She didn't ask if there was anything else. She decided she didn't want to know. Not now.

First things first, she thought. "The pregnancy," she said, "how do we get rid of it?"

The 'we' gave him a small piece of hope. She understood they were together in this. He'd been afraid she would withdraw, isolate herself with the burden on it.

"Carlisle'll know better than me. Do you want to speak to him now?"

She nodded, tears still brimming.

Carlisle didn't knock, knowing his welcome, but arrived with an IV bag in hand.

Bella moaned softly, seeing it.

"Your choice," he said gently, "but," and he looked at Edward for support here, "I don't want to take any risks." When she stared at the bag, as if considering, he added, "and we can't consider any medical procedures if you're not well."

Her nod was immediate.

"Let's just try this for today," he said, taping the IV he'd inserted in place. He went on to explain the different options available to her, calmly discussing the advantages and pitfalls of each.

"A medical abortion," she said, rephrasing what he'd told her.

"Yes," Carlisle said. "Highly effective."

But not always.

"And if it isn't?" she asked.

"Then surgical removal," Carlisle said, tapping the IV bag.

Her stomach lurched at the thought.

"But we're still a week away from anything." He'd explained that he wanted to wait, and avoid a potentially unnecessary procedure, in case the pregnancy didn't last.

She was thinking, biting her lip.

"What is it?" Edward asked, their hands still linked.

"Will I feel any symptoms of the pregnancy?" she whispered, almost too shy to ask.

"No," they both said, Edward more vehemently than Carlisle.

"It's too early," Edward assured her.

The idea of something, growing inside her, that Jacob had left, made her stomach twist painfully.

She pulled a breath in through her nose, and let it slowly from her mouth. "In a week then," she said, steeling herself to wait that long. Her casted hand rested on her abdomen, and she stilled the urge to use both to claw what remained of Jacob out of her.