One could prepare all they wanted for the theoretical idea of war, and with only a little over a year of West Point under his belt, Edward had relatively little theoretical preparation at that. Actually experiencing the 'glory' of war was a whole different experience.

It was the very early morning of April 6, 1862 when Edward was thrown from sound sleep into panicked wakefulness at the sound of chaos outside his tent. There were wild battle cries amidst the sound of pain-filled screams and tramping feet.

Emmett, beside him in the tent, was first to get to the mouth, looking out. Peering over his shoulder, ducked low at the sound of bullets whistling through the air, Edward could see the their battalion being driven from their tents half-clothed and half-armed.

A surprise attack by the Confederate troops, he realized.

Emmett cursed and grabbed for his gun, charging out into the fray. Stopping only long enough to pull on his jacket, Edward flew out after him.

"Grab your boots! We have to get to the treeline," Emmett ordered.

Since the war began, they'd had more than one argument. Emmett had taken it upon himself to protect his little brother even though, limited as it was, Edward had more training. Though Edward outwardly insisted that his brother should only concentrate on the task at hand, he secretly felt better that Emmett was at his side.

That day, thrown into the middle of battle rather than having the time to beat back the child inside him who was frightened to death of the coming fray, Edward was glad to have anyone's orders to obey. He was shaking so badly it was hard to level his gun to aim. His heart was pounding so hard, he didn't think he could have spoken if he wanted to.

Darting back into the tent, he grabbed his boots, tying the laces together quickly so he could toss them over his shoulder. Thinking fast, he grabbed Emmett's boots too as his brother shouted at him to hurry. Together, with many other troops, they ran for the treeline.

The ensuing battle lasted two days. The Union won at the loss of 13,000 men to the Confederate's loss of 11,000. There was so much death and pain all around them, Edward remembered feeling like he was running through a river of blood on the forest floor, the sound of the wind through the trees and the creatures of the woods replaced by groaning, screaming, and the crack of bullets and cannons.

Through it all, Emmett was at his side, his gun always steady, his expression fierce, looking stronger and braver than Edward felt. He borrowed that strength to taper down his fear and did his duty.

At the end of the day on April 7, looking around, seeing no enemies rushing at him, Edward thought he could breathe. He closed his eyes to steady himself for one second, just one.

"Edward! No!" his brother roared.

He felt Emmett barrel into him, and he fell to the ground. At the same time, the sound of a single gunshot rang out through the air seeming to echo. Emmett screamed, and when Edward looked up, he could see blood darkening the arm of his uniform. With a cry of fury, he threw himself at the Confederate solider who had found him, running him through clean with his saber.

"Emmett!" he cried, collapsing to his knees at his brother's side. "Medic! I need a medic!" he shouted, desperate with fear because the wound was bad and the bleeding too quickly.

~0~

"Edward."

"Medic," he muttered frantically, not recognizing for too many long moments that he was safe in his bed. All he heard around him was the cries of pain, the moans of the wounded. His nostrils burned with the acrid smell of gun powder and the stifling copper scent of blood. The thrum of his heart was too fast in his chest, and he couldn't quite get his lungs to fill.

"Edward," the voice repeated. Amidst the chaos all around him, this voice was gentle and quiet - out of place. There were soft hands on his chest, and some part of him realized he was thrashing. "Shh, shh. You're fine. Please wake up."

For a minute, his mind warred with his heart. His battle sense was on full alert at the sound of the voice's light, Southern lilt and tensed his body to recoil, fight back against whatever trickery this was. His heart knew the voice promised refuge and was drawn toward it, toward safety, steadiness, and comfort.

"Open your eyes. Look at me. Breathe," the voice implored, and he remembered all at once that he wasn't a terrified teenager on the battlefield watching his brother bleed to death. He was a grown man and the hands that touched him, the voice that soothed him, belonged to his wife. He was safe with her in their bed.

Opening his eyes, Edward drank her in and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He breathed in the smell of her skin, the light scent of lavender from the fine soaps his mother favored replacing the smell of battle and death. The only sounds in the quiet house were his own frantic breathing and the rustle of their night clothes as he tangled their legs together, wanting Bella as close as possible. His eyes darted around the room lit only by moonlight, searching for danger but only finding darkness.

Back when they were in Houston and Edward was well enough to start working, he'd periodically been struck by a great fatigue. Concerned that he was exerting himself too soon, Bella had summoned Doctor Berty, who gruffly explained he was healing nicely from his wounds. What he suffered from was called Da Costa's syndrome, more commonly known as Soldier's Heart. It explained the ache in his chest and the way his heart beat unsteadily as he tried to catch his breath.

Personally, Edward didn't care what the doctor said. What he had was an inability to forget the things he'd seen and done during the war. His body remembered the fear and adrenaline. He remembered the way his blood pumped through his veins - hot and angry. Through his terror, he was so furious.

The enemies kept on coming.

They knew he was going to shoot, he had to shoot, but they kept on coming, and he kept on shooting.

Battle after battle for four years, he watched other men - brothers, sons, fathers, husbands - scream and fall under his gun or his sword. He watched his fellow soldiers - the men he'd come to know and love through the hardship they suffered - fall wounded and maimed, bleeding to death or worse, languishing in ill-equipped hospitals where many more would die of infection.

He'd watched Emmett nearly bleed to death. How vividly he remembered watching as the surgeon and nurses hovered over his brother, trying to save his arm. Emmett looked so pale, bone pale and sweating profusely.

Warm hands on his cheeks settled his thoughts somewhat, and Edward let his eyes find Bella.

Shifting wordlessly, he claimed her mouth with his. He was suddenly desperate to feel warmth. He was chilled to the center of his being and could feel an overwhelming darkness threatening. His instinct was to seek warmth and control over something since he could not completely rein in his tumultuous emotions. Some part of him knew he was being too rough, he should be more delicate with his wife, but the need to quell his rising anxiety took precedence in his still addled brain.

Rolling so that he was on top of her, his fingers pulling up her gown as his lips moved hungrily with hers, Edward almost didn't hear the little mewling sound she made at the back of her throat. Her hands had fallen back on the pillow on either side of her head.

Quickly, Edward pulled back, horrified and disgusted with himself. She was not fighting him, but that wasn't exactly a fair way to gauge her willingness. Submitting to him was part of her marriage vows. Refusal was grounds for divorce. She was well aware of that fact. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

"No," she said, her hands catching his shoulders before he could get too far. "You startled me is all."

He studied her face carefully, still feeling panicky and breathless.

She raised a hand to his cheek and caressed his skin, moving her legs up to slide along the outside of his. He could feel the warmth, the heat she radiated, and need formed a knot in his throat.

Lowering his face back down to hers, he kissed her more tenderly. "I would never hurt you," he whispered.

"I know," she assured, kissing him back. They moved together, silent except for the sound of their kisses and the slip of clothing being tugged down, up, or otherwise out of the way.

Edward felt infinitely better when her slight body was under his, skin to skin. When he thrust himself inside her, he finally felt calm. She raised her legs, wrapping them around him so her feet brushed his back and backside, and Edward shuddered at the intensity, feeling his diminutive wife surround him, grounding him.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips as he moved inside her.

Her answer was a soft whimper, and Edward ducked his head to kiss along her neck. He let the sounds of her pleasure drive away the last of his residual fear, reminding himself of all the new, happy memories he was creating every day with her.

~0~

Because he doubted that their buggy could hold his mother, sister, wife, Peter, Emmett, Rosalie, baby Charlotte, and all their luggage, Edward took the buggy ride to Galena & Chicago Union Station alone.

Well, he tried to go alone. Just as Seth had secured the horses and he was about to step inside, his sister called to him.

"I'm going," she said plainly, taking Seth's arm to step inside before Edward could protest again. Shaking his head, Edward gave up and followed his sister into the cab.

"It's going to be so good to have everyone home again," Alice said excitedly.

Edward smirked, deciding not to tease his sister about how unladylike it was to to bounce about as she was doing. She was right, though. It had been a great many years since their family was gathered under one roof for more than a few days at Christmas.

"Oh, Edward," Alice said suddenly, switching topics. "Don't let me forget. I need to post this letter. Union Station is as good a place as any, I suppose, seeing as I keep missing the postman."

Curious, Edward took the letter she indicated from her bag and looked at it. "Why are you writing to Jasper Whitlock?" he asked, taken aback when he saw his old friend's name on the envelope.

The look on Alice's face indicated that she thought it was rather a dimwitted question. "To let him know of Peter, of course."

"I telegraphed him when we arrived, Alice. He knows Peter's safe here."

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not writing about his safety. From what Bella told me, I'm sure that he misses his son as much as Peter obviously misses his father. I'm just writing to tell him what a good boy he has raised, and tell him of some of the mischief he gets into."

Edward was amused. "You think because Jasper misses his son, he will be interested in hearing about the details of a toddler's day?"

Sighing, Alice shook her head. "Many men are disinterested in their children. I didn't think you would be one of them." She tilted her head, regarding him curiously. "I think, Edward, when you're a father, you will understand what it might mean to hear of your child's antics should you ever be separated from him."

Edward didn't answer right away, tapering down the elated emotion he felt at the idea of being a father. He felt a great deal of pride just imagining Bella's belly growing large and round about their child.

"And how do you know, Alice?" he asked, his lips curled up into a half grin. "You have no children of your own."

"No," she said with a soft sigh. "Nor a beau to imagine a future with." She frowned, screwing up her lips as if she'd bitten into something foul. "Both my brothers are married with children, and I'm like to die an old maid."

"Don't be dramatic, Alice," he chided, and then chuckled. "Mother said you turned away a fair number of suitors as it is."

"They were all very dull," she protested, folding her arms. "Or very old. I won't marry for the sake of being married," she warned.

"I wouldn't want that for you," he soothed. "I worry about your future, you know, but I would never push you into a marriage you would not be happy in."

Her expression gentled. "Nor would I let you, brother mine."

They lapsed into silence, and Edward looked out the window, following the line of the Chicago River until they had to turn on Kinzie Street.

At Union Station, Edward kept Alice's arm laced through his, making sure she could not stray too far from him. There were a lot of people on the platform, and that kind of crowd made him subtly uncomfortable.

When they heard the whistle of the right train, Edward finally felt a thrill of excitement. Alice let go of his arm, beginning to smooth down her dress though nothing was crooked or out of place. Suddenly very twitchy, Edward reached up to readjust his hat and checked that the chain of his pocket watch was still attached.

The engine groaned and wheezed. Edward grinned broadly when he realized that Emmett was hanging from the doorway of one of the first class cars, scanning the crowd. When he spotted them, he hopped down before the train came to a full stop.

"Emmy," Alice squealed, in her delight calling her brother the name she had when she was a very small child and couldn't pronounce his full name.

"Ally girl," he returned, slinging his one arm around her waist and twirling her around.

After a long hug, Emmett turned to his little brother. "Edward," he nodded, grinning hugely.

"Emmett," Edward returned, taking his brother's hand and squeezing tightly.

Obviously not caring about how such a show of emotion was unbecoming of gentlemen, Emmett pulled his little brother into a hug just as tight and fierce as he had with their sister.

By then the train had come to a proper stop, and people were beginning to pour off. Emmett turned, stepping back to the doorway in time to help Rosalie from the step.

It seemed to Edward that he had not seen Rosalie since he was thirteen or so, over a decade ago. She'd been there when Emmett was injured and again at Carlisle's funeral, but both times, Edward had not truly stopped to look at her, distracted by war or struck by grief.

Rosalie was truly a breathtakingly stunning woman. Even standing as she was in a dress suitable for travel, holding her tiny baby daughter in her arms, she turned more than one head. Edward saw no trace of the traumatized girl from his memories. She stood tall and proud, pristine in her pale yellow dress. Her eyes, he noticed, darted around, but she seemed to get more comfortable when she only recognized Edward and Alice.

"Rosalie," Edward greeted, kissing her cheek with his hand on her arm.

"Edward," she nodded. "I was sorry to hear you were injured. We wanted to go to you, but..." she trailed off, looking down at the baby in her arms with a soft smile.

"I was well taken care of," he assured before looking down at his little niece. "Hello, little one," he said softly, running the pad of his finger along her tiny hand. Charlotte did not react, still fast asleep despite all the bustle around her. "She is gorgeous," he said, looking up at his sister-in-law.

Beside her, Emmett chuckled. "Prettiest baby on God's green earth," he declared, absolutely beaming with pride.

Edward shook his head, smiling indulgently at his brother.

They chatted for a few minutes. Alice and Rosalie bent their heads together as Alice asked for some details about their impromptu wedding and how they came to choose the name Charlotte.

Gesticulating as he told the story of how he came to be injured in Houston, Edward was surprised when his brother's hand darted out, grabbing his wrist.

"What's this?" Emmett asked, his eyes wide.

Edward followed his gaze to his simple gold wedding band. "What does it look like?" he asked, perplexed at his brother's actions.

"You're married?"

"Just a little over a month ago," Edward confirmed. "Did Mother not tell you?"

Emmett shook his head, his grin getting wide again. "No, but we moved from the place we were staying to a hotel these last few weeks," he mused. "I suppose, if she wrote, the letter may not have reached us. I didn't even know you were home except that Mother's telegraph said you would meet us at the station."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Edward muttered, remembering his shock when he found out about Emmett's marriage.

"My little brother is a married man," Emmett said incredulously. "How did that happen if you've only been home such a small amount of time."

"The woman being harassed by the three men?" Edward asked, verifying that Emmett had been paying attention to his story. "That was my Bella. She saved my life."

Emmett's eyes bulged. "You married a Texan?" he asked, his voice booming.

"Is that a problem?"

Emmett threw his head back, laughing. "No, little brother. That's not a problem. That is rather amusing though."

They had some time for Edward to tell him a truncated version of the story.

"I can hear the gossip now," Emmett said, chuckling. "Carlisle and Esme Cullen's children don't love reasonably. What must the neighbors think?" He glanced over at their little sister, watching as Rosalie passed Charlotte into her arms. "Makes you wonder about Alice, doesn't it?"

Edward didn't answer right away, but raised a hand to acknowledge Seth who'd signaled that the carriage was packed and ready to depart.

"The thought," he admitted, "has crossed my mind."

~0~

Back at home, there were tears - mostly his mother's - and introductions.

Peter charmed everyone when he was drawn out from behind Bella's skirts, curious about the squalling coming from the bassinet. He stood on his tiptoes and peered at little Charlotte, oblivious to the room full of adults watching him. His little face was the picture of awe, his lips rounded with something that seemed to be wonder. Looking up at Bella, he patted her side and pointed at the baby insistently, not settling until Rosalie obligingly picked her up, settling down with her on the sofa so Peter could get a better look.

At dinner, Emmett declined the spot Edward offered at the head of the table, sitting beside their mother instead.

They all talked well into the night, everyone familiarizing themselves with the new shape of their family.

Eventually, the women all turned in, leaving Emmett and Edward alone in the parlour with sifters of brandy.

"You're lucky she took pity on you," Emmett told him of Bella. "She's pretty."

"She's beautiful," Edward corrected. "And thank you. Yes. I'm very lucky to have found her."

They were both quiet for a minute, Edward watching the ice in his glass dwindle to mere specs. "It's strange how completely everything can change so suddenly," he murmured. "At the beginning of this year, I couldn't guess that I would be sitting here in July, a married man with my married brother."

Emmett snorted lightly. "I know what you mean. I barely finished my degree before Charlotte came. I've known for a long time that I wanted to marry Rosalie, but now that it's happened..." He shook his head and smiled. "Sometimes, I think it's all a dream," he admitted.

Edward nodded, understanding that emotion all too well.

"I meant to thank you earlier for your hospitality," Emmett said with an air of formality. "I don't plan to take advantage of your good graces for long."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Edward ran over those words in his head to make sure he hadn't drunk so much brandy that he was mistaking their meaning. "This is your home, Emmett. That won't ever change. I'm not sure I have to tell you that you are always welcome here." He looked down. "It's your birthright. You know I wouldn't fight you if you wanted the house. It should have gone to you anyway."

"No," Emmett said sharply. "It's your house. You've earned that much."

"The only thing I've done with my life is shed blood for my country, which is only what should be expected of any man, and it seems to me you've given a great deal more than that," Edward protested, gesturing at Emmett's missing arm.

Emmett shook his head. "I got taken out of battle too soon to say I did my part. Shiloh was very early on. I was sitting in classrooms and escorting Rosalie to parties while you were sleeping on the ground and getting shot at." He put up his hand when Edward started to protest. "No. As I told Mother, my mind is made up." He smirked slightly. "I trust you won't slam the door in my face if I ever need to come crawling back, but I would rather try to make my own way for now."

Edward frowned, not liking the idea of Emmett not taking his fair share, but he didn't press the matter. His brother could make his own decisions, and Edward would respect that. "What are your intentions, then?"

Leaning back in his chair, Emmett stroked his chin, tilting his head and looking a great deal more serious than Edward ever remembered his brother being. "You've always been better at planning than I have," he began slowly. "Hear me out, and then you can tell me if I'm an idiot."

At that, Edward had to laugh. "You're an idiot," he said dutifully. "But let's hear these plans of yours."

A/N:Weee. I'm off to Yosemite. Thank you to barburella and jadedandboring and all you fine people. MWAH.