A/N: Seriously. You guys make me so happy. I'm very sorry about my lack of review replies, especially right now as I expect this chapter will push the story over 1k reviews... which is nuts. Just nuts.

So thank you for all your kind words and for caring about these two.

It was a dream. Bella knew it was a dream, but she felt entirely too weary to figure out how to wake from it.

She knew she was dreaming because this dream was built out of mostly memories. It had happened already.

It was a dream and it was about to become a nightmare of her own design.

Her father's birthday had hit her hard.

Charlie had died a mere five days before his fortieth birthday. Instead of the celebration Bella and Renee had planned, they'd had a funeral.

A year had passed, and while every day was a struggle to cope with her loss, Charlie's birthday was absolute agony. She missed her father too much to push it aside that day. Glad that her mother had chosen to go see friends in Phoenix for the week, Bella called in sick to work and let the misery have her.

In reality, she hated other people seeing her cry. Throughout the funeral and the time after that, when people would squeeze her shoulder or look on her with pitying eyes, Bella wouldn't let herself cry in front of them. She didn't want their sympathy. She had to be strong for her mother. A year before, she'd kept her tears private.

After a year, she'd realized how much her father's quiet presence had meant to her. Bella had always been something of a loner, but Charlie was at least... there. Maybe they hadn't had heart to heart talks, but his just being around was a comfort she didn't know she had until it was gone. Oh, it was true, Renee was there, but she was, in her own way, also very absent.

In the wake of her father's death, loneliness was getting the better of Bella. That day, as she cried quietly in the silent house, she just wished for someone. She remembered it was nice, when she was with Mike, when he did simple things like hold her hand or touch her cheek.

She needed a little physical affection. Just a hug. Or a cuddle.

By the time he'd come by, she was mostly calm, just sitting on the couch, feeling sad. For one second, when she heard the heavy clomp of his boots on the porch, she could almost imagine it was her father coming home. And when she opened the door, greeted first by the sight of his police uniform, her heart stuttered.

"Hey," he'd greeted, his voice tender. "I came to see how you're doing."

He brushed by her, entering the house without asking her permission. He never asked her permission, but today, she was too tired to call him on it.

They went to the couch, sitting down, and he looked at her, his expression sad. "I miss him too, you know," he said, his tone sincere.

That was all it took. Her lower lip crumpled, and she started to cry again before she could stop herself. When he put his arms around her, she turned, settling her head against his shoulder.

For a minute, it was exactly what she needed. He held her tightly, and the way his badge and equipment laden belt pressed into her was familiar. She remembered hugging her father this way when she was small.

Then he'd begun to kiss her forehead, along her hairline. She hadn't stopped him immediately, clinging to the comfort his arms offered, but as he kissed across her cheek and at the corner of her mouth, she'd sighed. "Please don't. Not today. Please." All she wanted was to be warm for once on this bleak, desolate day. She didn't want him to ruin it with his persistence, making her have to push him away.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "I just want to make you feel good. That's all. I just want you to feel better." He'd resumed kissing her nose, her cheeks, with tiny, sweet kisses. "Let me help you feel good."

He wiped away her tears and slowly, so slowly, kissed her lips.

It was better than bad. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was... nice. It didn't feel like grief, at least.

She let him kiss her because she didn't want to be alone, she didn't have the energy to fight his advances.

This wasn't bad, she told herself. It was nice to be held, nice to be kissed, nice to be wanted. She felt warmer, wrapped in his arms, than she had all day... all week... all year, really. Would it really be so horrible to forget?

People did that - used sex to forget. Used sex for the simple pleasure of it. Used sex to feel good.

And she understood that was what he was heading toward. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't oblivious to the fact that the more he kissed her, the more his body began to dominate hers, pushing her back against the cushions of the couch. His hands moved to more suggestive places, their intent obvious.

When he stood, pulling her with him and unbuckling his heavy belt, she'd taken the moment to breathe and warn him. "This doesn't mean anything."

She should have been disturbed about the way he smirked at her. "Shhh," he said, kissing her again.

"I just... I want..."

"I know what you want," he asserted, pulling her shirt up and off. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her up the stairs.

That was when the dream turned into a nightmare. The actual act had not been violent, of course. He'd been the dominant partner in bed, but she'd wanted to be led - that was half the point. She didn't want to think. In her dream, though, when he got to her bedroom, his actions changed drastically.

In her dream, his hands wrapped around her wrists, his grip punishing as it had been that day - the day she ran. She'd started to struggle and then started to scream. He let go of her wrists, clapping his hand hard over her mouth, pressing her down into the bed.

"You're mine, do you understand that?" he growled, his voice no longer gentle but hard and angry. "You're mine, and this-" he pressed down on her suddenly grotesquely swollen stomach, "is mine. Do you think you can take what's mine away from me?"

She screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but his friend had appeared out of no where, holding her arms above her head. Their eyes were cold and malevolent. She knew absolutely that they were going to hurt her, but she couldn't escape them. They had her pinned, restrained. Her stomach roiled sickeningly.

Gasping for air, Bella sat up straight in her bed, coming out of her nightmare in that topsy-turvy, surreal, not-quite-conscious state. She was terrified, struggling to throw off the blankets that confined her, and she stumbled, falling out of bed and onto the cold, wood floor.

It took her a second to realize that the churning in her stomach was real, and she was about to be sick. Stumbling on shaking legs, she only barely made it to the toilet before she heaved.

Bella dealt with most every regular illness in stride, not complaining about stuffy noses and sore throats. Being sick to her stomach, however, had always made her feel just a touch sorry for herself. Now, being thrown out of a horrible nightmare, the feeling was ten times worse.

She was also positive the pregnancy hormones weren't helping.

Resting her head on the seat, Bella tried to breathe, tried not to cry into her folded arms. She failed, feeling absolutely miserable. She was shaking hard, both with draining adrenaline and weakness from heaving her guts out. It had also been unseasonably cold that week, so she was shivering on top of shaking.

In the silence of the middle of the night, it was difficult to stave off the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. In the day, Bella could almost deal with what had happened to her. It had been two weeks since she ran from Alec and James. It had been a week since she'd found Edward. In the light, she could almost believe things would be okay, that she could get back on her feet and make a life for herself and her baby.

In the unforgiving darkness of the night she felt far from alright. Fresh from her memory-nightmare, she felt so dumb. In retrospect, she saw every wrong move she'd made. She shouldn't have let him walk into her house like he owned it. She shouldn't have let him believe that he owned her. She'd accepted him into her body, trusted him with herself at her most vulnerable state, and he'd turned into the monster she should have known he was.

Bella let one trembling hand drift to her midsection, giving a sharp, short cry.

One slip, one mistake, and she was irrevocably altered. She carried him inside her still, and in that moment, it only made her feel sick and violated. How could she have been so careless?

A soft knock on the bathroom door made her start, breaking the oppressive haze that had settled over her, bringing her back to the present. "Bella?"

Of course it was Edward. Bella bit the inside of her cheek, furiously wiping away tears. She glanced up, seeing the bathroom door was cracked open. He wasn't looking in, but he was standing right outside. She sniffled, frustrated that she was crying in front of him again. "I'm fine," she called, but her voice wavered so much, no one could have believed her.

Edward said nothing, but he didn't go away. Knowing she needed to pull herself back together, Bella grabbed the edge of the counter, hauling herself up on trembling legs. She splashed cool water on her face and brushed her teeth before she summoned the strength to face him.

"It's just morning sickness," she tried, wrapping her arms around her torso, shivering in the cold air. "I just got a little emotional. That's all. That's normal, right?" She attempted a weak smile.

Whether or not he believed her, he didn't call her on it. "I thought you were over that," he said instead, his tone sympathetic. His soft eyes studied her carefully, and he reached out slowly, taking her hand. He led her back to bed, tucking the covers around her and sitting carefully on the edge.

"Can I do something for you? Do you need water? That awful tea I've seen you drink?" he asked, smoothing a damp lock of hair away from her face.

He was so unbearably sweet it made her ache. Bella shivered again, pulling the blankets tighter around her. With a somewhat desperate laugh, she realized what she wanted most - what she'd wanted since her father's birthday some weeks before.

What Edward had given her once already, though he didn't remember it.

After everything she'd put him through, she knew she had no right to ask. She knew she was being selfish and needy.

He must have seen her hesitation because he cupped her cheek gently. "Just tell me what you need, Bella. It's okay."

Bella bit her lip. "Will you hold me again? Like you did that first night?" she asked in a small, tired voice. "I just... I want to be warm."

Maybe it was foolish. After all, that was what she'd wanted from him, and he'd taken much more. She'd trusted him that far and further, and he'd betrayed that trust terribly.

But she felt safe with Edward. It felt... different.

He didn't even hesitate. He just moved around the bed and laid down behind her, over the covers, and wrapped himself around her. The way his body enveloped hers, Bella was able to find a calmer center, could literally feel her unsteady world stop the dizzying tailspin she'd fallen into.

His arm was low around her, his hand against her stomach, like he was protecting her baby right along with her.

Why couldn't it have been you? she thought with quiet desperation. If she had to make a mistake, why couldn't it have been with someone sweet, kind... not delusional?

Quickly, she shook that thought away, concentrating instead on matching his slow, deep breaths. There was a comfort inherent in the way she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back.

Slowly, she began to relax, and her hand drifted to his arm.

It was covered in gooseflesh.

Of course. It was chilly and he, as usual, wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You can get under the blankets. You should get under the blankets," she blurted shyly. What she really should do was tell him to go back to bed - his bed - but she was too selfish. She wasn't ready to give up his warmth yet.

"Are you sure that's okay?" he asked, his voice low and soft against her ear. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Bella nodded. "It's cold. Get under the blankets before you catch your death."

He chuckled. "Yes, Mother."

She stayed relatively still, not turning to face him, as the bed shifted. He lifted the blankets and settled in again behind her, his warmth magnified now that there was only the barrier of her nightshirt between them. She was glad she was facing away from him because the touch was infinitely more intimate now, the way his hand cupped her belly possessive, but not in the bad way. Not like him.

Bella let her hands find his again. She idly began to twist the ring on his right hand, the ring that symbolized their false commitment to each other, around and around his finger, thinking of everything and nothing.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she almost laughed, realizing she was staring at the room's fireplace. He just as easily could have lit the thing to keep her warm. It might have been more logical, anyway.

"What is it?" he asked, his low, sleepy voice vibrating pleasantly against her skin.

"There's a fireplace in every room," she observed.

Edward nodded. "This house was built shortly after The Great Fire. No heating back then, so every room had to be equipped with a fireplace. Sometimes I prefer it in the winter instead of running the heater."

"Well, it's a little more green," Bella mused. "It would waste a lot of energy to heat this whole place just for you."

"I never thought of it that way."

"I'm sorry," Bella said quickly. "I didn't mean to offend or anything."

"No." He yawned. "The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business." His words were slurred with sleep.

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement, her thoughts getting blurry around the edges.

Feeling safe and warm, Bella fell asleep in his arms.

~0~

Bella woke first in the morning, coming awake slowly, her thoughts weighed down by sleep. She felt overheated, her skin clammy under her night clothes, and it took her a moment to realize why.

Edward was still wrapped around her. His hold on her was slack, but her back was still pressed against him. She could feel his chest rise and fall, and the heat of his breath on her shoulder.

It took a few minutes to realize that the heaviness that usually weighed on her, squeezing her heart, was missing. For just those few minutes as she woke, she felt a great peace. There was no sadness hanging over her, nor fear. She was safe, warm, protected.

How extraordinary - how absolutely right it felt, almost as if she'd awaken to find the lie she'd perpetuated was fact.

How nice it would be to believe in beautiful dreams.

But, as sleep released its hold on her, Bella had to remember and accept what was.

The reality wasn't nearly so pretty. She'd spent the last week in something of a haze, trying to process all the changes in her life. Part of her still wanted to believe it wasn't happening: that she hadn't run away from the only home she'd ever known; that she wasn't pregnant by a man who would hurt her; that she wasn't taking advantage of another man's time, home, and seemingly endless kindness.

Moving carefully, Bella extricated herself from Edward's loose hold and slipped out of bed. Deep in thought, she wandered downstairs.

Because it was obvious Edward didn't know what he had, Bella had devoted one entire day to taking everything out of every single one of his cupboards and putting it back, arranged so that everything had its rightful place. That was how she knew he owned a juicer. The dish at the center of his kitchen table was brimming with oranges - which Leah had told her were mostly for decoration.

Settling at the kitchen table, she began to halve and juice the oranges, zoning out to her own thoughts.

There wasn't much she could do about what was already done. She had to live with the fact she'd let him marry her. What she could do was pick herself up, dust herself off, and get on with her life. She needed to stop being a burden, stop this constant take, take, take.

Besides, she had to face the fact that she couldn't be a kid anymore, barely scraping by. She had to support herself and her baby. That was a priority.

It was an overwhelming prospect, but it could be done. Many others had been where she was - worse, in many situations, since they didn't have a benefactor like Edward.

Either way she sliced it, the first object on her agenda was clear. She needed a job.

"If you grind that orange any more, you're going to have rind juice."

Bella jumped. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard Edward come into the kitchen. His voice had come from behind her, and she twisted in her seat, finding he was at her back, his hands resting on her chair. His eyes were hooded with sleepiness, and he was still shirtless.

His nearness - particularly the nearness of his pleasingly muscular chest and arms - was distracting. She blinked at him, setting the over juiced orange half to the side. "Good morning," she said, feeling oddly shy.

It wasn't the first night they'd spent in bed together after all.

His smile was rather impish - playful. "Good morning," he said quietly, moving around from behind her to take the seat her side.

"Orange juice?"

"Freshly squeezed. You do spoil me, Bella."

"Ha!" She shook her head, amused at how he could possibly think that after a few meals. Standing, she retrieved two glasses and poured out the juice, setting one in front of him.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Bella narrowed her eyes. If he thought she missed how his lips had tightened into a grimace for a second before he hid his reaction, he was greatly mistaken. "You don't like pulp, do you?" she guessed.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to deny her claim, and then laughed lightly when she fixed him with a glare of warning. "No, I don't. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry about your tastes," she said rolling her eyes. She stood again, retrieving a third glass and a strainer.

"When did you do all that?" Edward asked, gesturing to the cabinets as he watched her transfer the juice from one glass to the other, straining the pulp out.

"I've had plenty of time this last week," she said quietly, putting his new glass in front of him. She dumped the excess pulp into her own glass before she sat beside him again. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

Edward cocked his head, and for a moment Bella was distracted, watching the way his Adams apple bobbed as he drank.

"I, um..." she stumbled. "I wondered. I haven't seen it, but I thought maybe you picked it up in the morning. Do you have the newspaper delivered?"

"No, actually. Why do you ask?"

Bella made a face, mentally adjusting her plan. "Do you have a home phone?"

"No. Just my cell phone." He looked very confused at that point.

"You're not making this easy," she teased lightly. "It's time for me to find work. I just need a way for people to call me back, I think. Although..." she trailed off, tapping her chin. "I'm sure I could get hired on the spot somewhere, right? Maybe a fast food place? Then I could use my first paycheck to get a cell phone."

"Bella," Edward sighed. She looked up, surprised to find he looked displeased.. "I've been putting off having this conversation because I didn't want you to be afraid," he conceded finally. "But, have you considered that your, uh... friends might come after you?"

Bella's set her glass of orange juice down so hard, the liquid splashed and almost spilled. It was difficult to force down the swallow.

It was, of course, something she had considered. Those first few days, when she ran, she'd checked the rearview mirror constantly, fully expecting him to be there.

By the time she'd arrived in Vegas, Bella had convinced herself that he would stay in Forks. He had responsibilities there, and despite the fact he talked all the time of leaving, Bella knew Forks was his comfort zone.

With the blinders ripped off her eyes, she understood that his mind had warped their relationship. She was his, as far as he was concerned. It wasn't that she thought he was powerless. If that was the case, she never would have found herself in Vegas, knowing she couldn't go home.

"He has ties in Forks," she said out loud.

"And his friend?" he asked quietly.

Bella looked down at the tabletop, her breath suddenly labored. No. His friend had no such ties.

"Hey, it's okay," Edward said quickly, reaching out to touch her arm. "You're safe here. This neighborhood has an amazing security team."

Forcing herself to breathe through her panic, Bella flipped her hand, threading their fingers together together and squeezing tightly. He said nothing but let her squeeze his hand too hard, stroking his thumb over her tense knuckles.

"I can't hide here forever," she said when she thought her voice would hold steady.

"I know that," he assured, his voice still gentle. "There's no rush, Bella. If you need more time to-"

"I've taken enough time," she said firmly. "I can't stay still anymore. I can't let you keep taking care of me. You've waited a week while I got my head on straight. That's long enough for me to do nothing."

Edward studied her for a long moment before he nodded. "Okay. We'll work something out."

A/N: Meep, meep, meep. Thanks so much to barburella and ginnyw. And again, thank you to all of you. Your response to this fic is just wonderful.