(Disclaimer- i own a bat cave.)

hola! okay, so i know its been a long while since i've updated. i'm sorry about that.
i've had homework and school crap to deal with. :) but here you are, and its pretty long.
not as long as the last chapter, but I'm hoping its a bit more exciting.
theres a whole bunch that goes on in this one. and i do mean a whole bunch.
theres a lot to swallow here, and you're likely to forget what happened in the beginning of the chapter
by the time you get to the end. but anyway, heres the chapter. and my chapters will probably
be coming a little slower (not slower than THIS chapter came, just slower than is normal for me)
because of school and stuff. so. please be patient. and thank you for reading.
leave reviews so i can know what you think of it! :D you're bound to have some kind of guesses or
something after you read this chapter. its a bit of a cliff hanger. so leave me something interesting
in your reviews, people! :D

Charmed

It wasn't so hard to find as I'd imagined it might have been. After roughly two hundred years, I'd have expected a place like this—one that had been so very difficult to find to begin with even after only less than a year of being away from it—to be rather tricky to stumble upon. But now here I was, standing in the opening of trees, staring out over a land that was far too symmetrical to truly be nature-made, way too beautiful to have been seen clearly in dreams.

I wobbled lazily into the meadow with curious eyes. The lighting here was dimmer than it'd been that time with Edward, but somehow still managed to glow in the veiled sunlight. Clouds drifted in the dark gray sky, signaling rain, and cast shadows over the wilting flowers that took place there. The land was so round, a personal little bubble that would make escaping reality a breeze for anyone other than me.

But when I was the one now needing a getaway, there was no chance of it. Not even one little glimmer of peace would shine over my head, trap me in its magic. Reality weighed down on me like the mass of the population wanted a piggyback ride and I'd had no choice but to accept. It was strange to think of all of those years of my life that I'd hidden away in my dreams, unable to keep my mind from wandering into fantasy, stuffing my faith into something—someone—I wasn't sure existed. Strange to think how abruptly the situation had been reversed, how I could no longer force myself to bury the impact of what was real, rather than what was fiction.

I'd never before been as aware of truth as I was today.

I'd been trying so hard to shut my mind down, to let the fires of newly acquired knowledge burn out, but it just wasn't working. The words from the night before just continued still to press into my mind, breaking down any futile barriers I'd put up in an effort to keep them out. I guess the madness it was causing me was easily seen on my face, otherwise I couldn't be sure if Jake would've let me leave the house this morning. He must have been able to see how much I needed to go, like I'd seen how much my need for departure had hurt him.

I sighed now, letting my tired legs rest as I sunk to the ground. The grass was damp, droplets of moisture furrowing into the jeans Kyle had bought me, but I ignored it. It might have been an idea to have concentrated on that dampening of my clothes, in actuality, to think only of the here and now, how the meadow looked and felt, but I knew that trying to do so would prove pointless in the end. I'd lived long enough to have learned how my mind worked, and to know that there was no focusing on anything but the one thing I didn't want to think of at all. And, more importantly, I was starting to feel the wrath of a headache for trying so hard to bar out the thoughts. Instead of letting them continue to bash about in my skull, I needed to let them free—as much as I hated the idea of doing such a thing.

So I released my hold on the words I'd chained, and winced when they whipped out in reckless abundance.

It'd been roughly two hundred years since my first and only death, give or take a few years. I'd not died by the blow of a fortuitous bullet, but instead by a rare complication during childbirth. I'd been pregnant with Junior at the time of my death, or just about to be relieved of that pregnancy, anyway. Jacob had told me, with tears that held the stamina of an Olympic runner, of the choice he'd been given just moments before my life's departure.

With my hand in his just last night, he whispered to me the words that the nurse had said to him, the words that had haunted him ever since, creating an image in my head, rather than a memory. I couldn't seem to remember any of it happening, not one word he uttered rang a bell, but still I could see it clearly in my head as though his words were not words at all, but the film to a movie, sliding over a projector.

And here, barely aware of the moisture devouring the underside of my jeans, I dove into that movie, becoming one with the pictures in my head. Before I could so much as blink, I was standing in the pale light of a hospital, floating beside a tormented Jacob, unable to be seen or heard. In this movie, I was merely a ghost.

The nurse behind the glass of the door nods solemnly at the doctor she speaks to, eyes gray with remorse. Those vessels of sight spin around to glimpse at Jacob where he sits in the room, holding a hand that is white as milk. An uneven thumping sounds from a machine, high-pitched and slowing, slowing. My heartbeat.

She steps past the now opened door, signaling for Jacob to follow her out into the hall. He looks at me, laying there almost a corpse, unwilling to leave my side.

"We don't have much time." She murmurs softly.

There is a skip and a bright flash. I'm in the hallway now.

Jacob is crying softly. She hasn't spoken yet, but his eyes are sad and knowing, and he is smart to make the connection between her eyes and her actions. He is swaying just a little bit, placing a large red hand against the perfectly bleached wall. His lips tremble.

"Sir." She glances at her chart. "Jacob."

"No." He sobs before she can tell him. He already knows.

"I'm so sorry, Jacob." She is, he can see it in her eyes as they fill. "We're trying everything we can do, I promise we won't give up without a fight. But the risk is too large, and the chances too slim. If we can manage, the best we can manage is to save only one of them. I'm so, so sorry." She shakes her head. They're crying together. She places her hand on his forearm. "I have to ask you. If we continue with the birthing procedure, we may be able to save the child."

"But she dies." He knows. His eyes close and tears mark his cheeks. He's so close to losing himself.

"I'm sorry." That confirms it. "If we stop, if we work on her instead, the chances of the child being saved are little to none." Her gray eyes slip to the floor and she shakes her head.

"You want me to choose between them."

"Time is running out." Another confirmation. Jacob cries.

One more bright flash envelopes me, and then it is gone.

I wiped at my cheeks, ridding the tears from my face, happy to be back in the present, away from the sadness. The meadow seemed bigger now, somehow stretched, and I imagined it was done so to fit my grief. I could only begin to imagine how Jacob had felt, and though I tried to keep it out, I'd managed to place myself in his position.

Who would I have chosen, if it had been him instead of me? New life, or everlasting love?

I'd want to save Jacob, of course. I couldn't see life continuing without him. But to think of the life, the small, helpless life that had yet to begin, to think of ending it…It was horrible. I was a monster in having that child ended due to my own self-interest. I just couldn't kill Jacob. Either way it was murder, and I couldn't kill Jacob.

I'd known then, when he was telling me, that he'd chosen the baby. It was the smart, noble decision. That child had so much left to experience, so much life ahead of it, while I'd been given much more than anyone could ask for. I'd been given love, Jacob, a caring father, faithful friends. That baby hadn't even seen the light of day. Why shouldn't he have chosen the baby?

I was selfish enough to have been upset by the idea, though, to have thought that Jacob would send away our love, and my life, for something—someone, a part of him—that he had yet to know. I was selfish enough to feel that sting of jealousy, that ache of foolish rejection.

But I'd been wrong. Jacob hadn't chosen the baby. He'd chosen me.

He'd barely had to think, though there was guilt in the pit of his soul for ending the life of a child, of his child, our child. He'd chosen me, he'd begged for the nurse to save me, to keep me alive. He couldn't have lived without me, didn't want to. There were other chances, he'd thought, for us to have a baby. That child could never have been replaced, but neither could I have been. He'd wanted me, needed me. And he'd chosen that I live.

But it'd been too late.

Though his decision was quick, and he'd meant it wholeheartedly, I'd died. Just as they'd walked back into my room, my hospital room, the machine monitoring my heartbeat had silenced. Jacob had chosen that I live, and I'd died anyway. I'd died just moments after he chose me, just as he was trying to balance his joy and misery.

I'd died right there in front of his eyes, and he could do nothing about it.

He was left with the child he'd given up for me, and the life, my life, the one he'd chosen to keep, had been ended.

If that had been me, in his position…I wouldn't have been able to take it. I would have gone insane. To think that Jacob would die, when I was so sure that he would live, when I'd been promised he would…it was horrible. And Jacob had had to deal with just that. I couldn't even comprehend the pain he'd have felt. Mine was simply a dull echo to what he must have gone through.

First, to go through the pain and the grief of killing a person, to know that you have been ordered to play God, to decide between the lives of the one person in the world that you love more than the rest, and the little piece of you that has yet to live. Then to make that decision, and to have the subtle relief of keeping the one that you love, so that you can face the horror of the situation together in the end…and in the end to have all of it taken from you. To have that awful decision bear down on you and mean nothing at all. To have all of the pain and agony of deciding mean nothing.

I shook my head. I didn't want to think about it anymore—couldn't think about it anymore—so I gifted myself the shy peace of pushing the thought away.

I gathered the strength back into my arms and legs, pushing myself from the wet earth so I was standing in the center of the circle. The wind was fierce, lapping at my hair and flipping it into my face. I struggled to keep my heavy lids open, finding it hard to stay awake after all of the tears, but there was more that I needed to think about, that I needed to release from my mind.

The truth of my death was not the only reason I'd ran from the house.

I didn't know anything anymore. Everything that I knew was questionable, every dream and every memory. The last of my life that I'd remembered was being engaged to Edward, ruffling through magazines, sitting in the kitchen. A phone call from Sam Uley. I'd found out that Jacob had run away, and that Edward had sent him the invitation to our wedding. Then I'd set off to find him, and had been shot in the heart.

After Jacob told me how it was that I really died, I'd not wanted to hear anything more. He'd offered other information, said he would tell me anything I wanted to know, from start to finish, but I'd rejected the knowledge, the vicarious memories. I just shook my head at him and threw myself into the covers of his bed…where I'd asked to be left alone.

I should have asked, though. It was foolish not to have asked, because now I was stuck here in this meadow with nowhere for my thoughts to go but in endless circles. If I had been pregnant with Junior when I'd died, then none of my memory would have proven to be correct, right? Jacob and I would have had to be…closer than I'd thought we were, otherwise I wouldn't have been having his kid.

So where did that leave me and Edward?

Edward.

I sighed.

Edward was another reason I'd left the house this morning, drove away in Jacob's car. The only piece of information I'd been given on my former life was my death. Just that one little scene of hospital. I knew nothing of what happened before it, nothing of what happened after.

So I was worried. Terrified, actually, wondering how much of a relationship I'd had with Edward to begin with. Not only was I afraid of the possibility that we'd not had then what I thought we did, but I was also afraid of the realization of just how attached I was to him. Had we even been in love? I felt love, warmth, longing, when I thought of him, and I did love him now, more than I'd realized, it seemed. But I was beginning to consider whether or not that love was real, or if it had only been forged by false memories.

When I'd gone to his house—or when Emmett had brought me to the Denali Clan's new house, rather—he'd seemed like he loved me. The way that Edward's eyes had met mine had indicated care and affection, pain and loss. He'd even kissed me, and when he'd done so, his lips had held all of the passion that I'd remembered. That might have meant that my memory was correct about him, for the most part, up until the engagement…

I couldn't be sure, though. I had no idea what had happened. I should have asked, but I was a stupid coward.

"Bella-Anna-Riley?"

My head whipped up to see Kyle stroll in through the woods, opposite from where I'd entered before. His chocolate hair whipped around his face in the cold wind, a little longer now that some time had passed, and his icy blue eyes were piercing in the dimming light of the afternoon. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his light-wash jeans, portraying total ease. A lazy smile pulled up one side of his lips, and his eyebrows rose as I stared at him.

So quick that it left a kind of stinging in my brain, the memory of Laurent battered its way into my head. It'd been so long ago, but I could see it clearly still.

I shuddered, but not from the chill of the air.

"I didn't expect to find you here, exactly, but I'm glad I did." He smiled at me, pausing just short of a foot away. He dragged one hand from his pocket through his brown hair, showing just enough surprise in his voice and eyes to look innocent. But still, I didn't trust it. I kept my jaw shut, my eyes observant on him. I didn't know what I expected him to do, but when he did it, I wanted to be paying attention.

It was stupid to have connected him to Laurent, of course. Laurent was dead, and there was no way that Kyle was a vampire. His skin was pale, indeed, but not that pale, and not that cold. When I'd held his hand, it had been soft and warm, and he'd even tripped. Vampires were cold and hard and graceful. Kyle was none of those things.

But maybe I was wrong about Laurent being dead. After all, my memory had served me with nothing but confusion and mistakes. I'd been wrong about my death, so why not his?

Still. Kyle was no vampire.

He chuckled lightly, stepping closer and extending a hand. The smile on his mouth was sweet and serene, and not at all threatening, but I couldn't help but be afraid. I might have taken his palm in mine—maybe just so he'd have one less hand to grab a knife with—if I hadn't been afraid he'd see me shaking.

"Are you all right?" He asked as his brows lowered in concern. Pivoting suddenly, his hand whipped away from me, facing the way he'd come from. I gasped, eyes tightening on his still-empty hand, shocked that there was nothing shiny, metal, and pointed in it. Then I realized that he was searching the woods for something that might have frightened me, and I felt like an idiot.

So it was obvious I was afraid. That gave him the advantage—my fear.

I worked hard to will my face into a calm mask—subtle shock, just like his. When I was sure I had made it as composed as I could manage, I sent him a smooth smile. He grinned back at me, mildly amused with my blatant effort, before grabbing me into a bear hug.

Even as I hugged him back, I was spotlighting every little detail, everything that I felt against me. I felt nothing cold against my back, only the warmth of his arms. There was no weapon there against me yet.

I was being ridiculous.

The second that I realized how foolish I was acting, I cut it out, letting myself snuggle into the hug with Kyle. And then, like a curtain had been suddenly dropped down over us, there was nothing but the calm of him. Nothing left but serenity.

I'd been a wreck before he'd shown up, and even though it'd gotten temporarily worse when I'd seen him, he was here now, comforting me with a gentle embrace. He was a good, strong man, and he had wonderful timing. He always seemed to find me at just the right moment, just when I needed him most.

"I missed you, you know." He whispered against my hair. I smiled easily into his shoulder, secretly delighted by his words. I'd missed him too, oddly enough. It was nice to have a human being who accepted everything about me and didn't ask many questions. He was content with just knowing that I was safe and alive, and it pleased me. I knew that I could talk to him—leaving out the few details that I wasn't allowed to tell—and that, even if he didn't know what I was talking about, he would help me, and he wouldn't ask for more than I gave him. How I could ever have doubted him was beyond me.

"Me too."

He pulled away from me, looking into my face as his hand wrapped around mine. The grin on his lips was just as elated with my words as I'd been with his. His light blue eyes glanced up at the sky, checking the thickness of the clouds as drops of rain began to tumble down and kiss the earth.

"I was antsy, not having heard from you." He admitted, walking with me around the little meadow. "You said you'd be in Forks, and I wanted to go hiking…" Chuckling in embarrassment, he looked at me again. "I didn't think I'd find you here, but I was hoping that maybe I'd have some luck in seeing you. Looks like luck was with me today."

I smiled at him, charmed by his undemanding presence, thankful to have been given this distraction. I didn't know how long I would've lasted without breaking down if he hadn't come here. The thoughts had been eating me alive, picking at my brain before, and I couldn't seem to make them go away. But he was here now, and somehow, the shouting in my head had been calmed to muffled whispers. He was like some kind of morphine to my agony, the infinite stampede of terrorizing thoughts. Just having him near seemed to put me in a trance, one that was very much welcomed by my restless soul.

"Nice place, this." He nodded at our surroundings, smiling that laid-back smile of his. He seemed a little drowsy, completely at peace there in the field with me, his lids drooping indolently. We continued to pace comfortably in the grassy sphere, and it felt to me, in my hazy state, almost like we were floating a foot off the ground. "You come here often?"

"No." My voice was barely a whisper, the tone hinting at the smile on my mouth. It was all so serene, eerily serene. I couldn't get myself to keep the sides of my lips from rising slightly. He looked at me, and I couldn't help but think his eyes seemed a little smug.

"Did you find what you were looking for, lovely?" His finger grazed my cheek, and I felt heat rise there, but not in a flush of color as it normally would. Now the blush took its time, sluggishly pulling blood up into my face. The fingers of my free hand grabbed weakly at the collar of his shirt to keep me steady. I was on the verge of a too-peaceful sleep.

"Mmm." I sighed in response, lids dropping down. It took effort to lift them again, but I managed it somehow, and met his eyes with mine. They were so blue, so icy cold blue, like glaciers floating dreamily on the arctic.

His lips were warm, lukewarm, when they touched against my lips. It was like kissing Edward, in a way, to kiss Kyle. Edward had been able to make me forget, to toy with my mind, my thought-process, and Kyle, somehow, was able to do the same. He had the same affect as alcohol, or heavy medication, some kind of drug. I felt high, lifted above myself, extended in the air with his arms wrapped around me.

Like he'd snatched my soul right out of my body and was holding it captive with him in the now milky sky.

When he released me, my thoughts sloshed around like lazy puddles in my mind, and it was hard to pick one out from the other. Everything seemed to blur, and the words I wished to speak to him were jumbled in my mind. He chuckled fascinatingly as his eyes swept over my expression, and there was something there in his tone that had my stomach tightening into a knot, churning. I was shaking slightly, but I couldn't focus enough to realize yet what the emotion was that had me behaving that way.

He looked satisfied, haughty, when his lips pulled to the left, blinking at me. It was obvious that I was under his spell. He could see it, and so could I. I struggled to pull some kind of comprehension back, and found it to be as hard as trying to make my way up a slippery cliff of pure ice.

Eventually, thankfully, I found the power in me to mumble just six words.

"They'll probably be looking for me." I mumbled, a little disjointedly. But even though the sentence came out jumbled and slurred, it was enough.

Kyle's snowy blue eyes became quickly careful as he scanned my face, and he stiffened against me, not as relaxed as before. I felt the pull of calm slowly evaporating from around us, and the relief that came with it was more than I could explain. But I was still too deeply submerged to make sense of the stirring inside of me.

"I guess I'd better go then." He said evenly, slowly.

In a possessive and almost showy action, he leaned in for a quick kiss, a large, accomplished grin pulling over his face as he let himself fall away from me. And then he turned and walked back the way he'd come from.

The second he disappeared behind the trees, I felt my feet slam back into the ground, and my brain back in my head. My breath was nearing hyperventilation, and the seed of sensation in my stomach was no longer muddled, but strong and heaving: fear. The panic that he'd numbed rose like tidal waves all throughout me, and I collapsed on the ground in the budding terror.

Kyle was not a vampire, but he didn't seem human either anymore.

There was something wrong here. Entirely, horribly, wrong, and I had no idea what it was.