A/N: As we know by now, the sever for this website wasn't working for a little while but that's not an excuse for my lateness… I know that I've uploaded late but at the moment it seems that I really can't to commit to a certain date and for that I am very apologetic. However, I think you will forgive me after reading this chapter… I am sure that some of you may be quite pleased with what occurs. On that note, enjoy my lovelies :)

-AshTree13 xoxo

P.S this is by far the longest chapter yet, but somehow I feel that it needed to be... still, sorry for the long read ;)

Chapter 14:

Life is a fragile thing.

In a single moment, at the making of a decision, your life could change for either better or for worse.

I had always considered life to be as delicate as a hatchling, a baby bird who could not yet fly but had the possibility to do so, who had bright eyes but could not see in the future; a creature entirely dependant on the love of its mother and the safety of its nest. It must be cared for, it must coddled with joy and kindness and affection and, to an extent, discipline; it must be allowed to make mistakes but be taught to correct them before it grows out of hand - it must be taught to be free.

Most of all, it must develop a conscious so to be able to distinguish between right and wrong.

That line, however, is often blurred - the concept of "life" after all was never set in stone.

Leaning against one of the many crumbling pillars of the Mayan ruins, I try to steady my racing heart by controlling my breathing, the simplistic instructions to breathe in, breathe out racing through my wired brain. My stomach clenches and I double over, dry heaving as I attempt to throw up the empty contents of my stomach, my head aching as the endless hum of chatter continues to reign supreme and the nausea continues to prevail. When I cough nothing up, I lean my back against the pillar and slowly slide to the soft jungle floor, curling my fingers around the grass blades as I close my eyes and try to move past the notion of my head feeling as if someone was repeatedly slamming a hammer against my fragile skull.

"Tess?"

I flinch at the sound of Edwards' voice which, despite its gentleness, is far too loud for my feeble brain to currently comprehend. Clamping my hands over my ears to mute the excess noise, I bury my head between my knees and attempt to swallow my growing nausea, knowing that the next time my stomach heaved I would be cough out something, anything, no matter how small the resulting mess would be. It was funny; there was nothing for me to throw up yet the instinct remained.

"Tessa, look at me," Edward says in a coaxing tone, his voice closer and softer than it was a minute or two ago.

I shake my head in reply; no. My heart rate accelerates, my headache fading to a kind of light-headed dizziness that made the nausea only worse and caused the world beneath me to feel as if were spinning, despite my eyes being firmly closed and the only thing I could 'see' being the complete darkness of my eyelids. My hands felt as if a thousand tiny needles were digging into my skin, numbing my fingers to the point where I felt nothing and my body trembles as a light sweat covers my skin. I felt like I couldn't breathe even though I was essentially panting like an overheated dog; my mouth was dry, my eyes ached, my abdomen would not stop feeling as if someone had taken my stomach into their fist and squeezed.

I guess this was what one might call a panic attack.

"Tessa," I feel Edward press his hands against my shoulders, his feather-light touch soothing the tremors shaking my entire being, "Tess, darling, you need to breathe."

"Darling?" I croak, somewhat amused by the random pet-name.

"Tess, just open your eyes and look at me," Edward says, one hand now caressing my cheek whilst the other runs cool fingers across my throbbing forehead.

"I can't," I whisper, the fear and guilt had too strong a hold.

"Yes you can."

"I can't," I sob but as I do, my eyes crack open and I'm blinded by the sudden onslaught of light despite the fact that darkness had prevailed with the night - however, the moon is a full orb lording over the night sky and the resulting moonlight is almost overwhelming to my tender eyes.

"Idiot, you're not blind," Edward chuckles, tilting my chin so my eyes can find his.

"Don't look at me," I cry, trying to turn my head away but his grip is strong and no matter how hard I struggle - to be honest, I'm not putting as much effort as I should into it - I cannot escape his intense gaze. The reality of that hits me and I burst into tears, my eyes burning as the salty water leaks from the corners of my eyes and trail down my flushed cheeks.

I want to run and hide from view; I don't want Edward to see me.

"Why?" he demands, his hands cupping the sides of my face so he can study my expression.

I close my eyes once more and continue to weep, ignoring the question entirely.

"Why Tess? Why can't I look at you? Because you killed a man?"

I gasp at hearing those dreaded words and brace my hands against his chest, pushing as hard as I could so I may escape from his knowing gaze and the truth I have been trying to deny. "No," I wail, when Edward grabs my hands - now clenched into fists - and holds them away from his chest so I cannot bruise his skin. "No," I repeat, my voice rising to a scream, "no, no, no, no, noooooooooo!"

"Stop screaming!"

"NO!"

"Tessa," Edward barks, shaking my trembling, blood-stained body, "just fucking breathe."

"I can't," I whine and it truly is a struggle to take my next breath.

"You already are! You just to take a deep breath in and one out and calm down!"

"I-I-I c-c-can't," I try to speak but at Edward's sharp gaze, I take his advice - advice that echoed my earlier instructions to myself - and attempt to take a deep breath in and then release it.

When I manage to do this three times, the difference is immediately evident. For one, my head which previously felt lighter than air, now feels almost grounded - well, the world has at least stopped tilting on a precarious edge. My heart rate slows to a gentle thump, allowing for my ears to pick up the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle which were previously obscured by the sound of blood rushing to my cheeks and brain. Although tears still leak from the corners of my eyes and although my body still trembles, I am able to think clearly.

And I'm incredibly embarrassed by my previous actions.

"I'm so sorry," I apologise, my voice little more than a whispered croak. I clear my throat and try again but I produce the same result.

"Don't apologise," Edward assures me, brushing away my tears with rough fingers dyed red with crusted blood, "it's quite refreshing to see such a human reaction to murder."

"Oh God," I moan, burying my face in my hands, the scent of drying blood invading my nostrils, "oh my God, I killed someone, Edward… I killed someone."

"Tess..."

"I murdered somebody, Edward," I cry, fresh tears making their way down my already tear-stained cheeks, "I took their life and all it took was a decision to aim and then throw a sharp-edged silver knife, positioned just right so that when it struck it hit the jugular. I planned it Edward! I may not have realised it at the time but I stood there, considered how I should go about it and then I ended somebodies life!"

Pausing, I try to disrupt the flow of tears but give up once I realise that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "I bled someone out... I stood there as they bled to death and looked them right in the eye-"

As I recall the event, I could easily picture it occurring as if I had taken a step back in time and gone back to witness this strangers death. I can see the tip of my blade entering his neck, severing tendons, breaking bones until it reached one of the most important veins of the body - the jugular. The effect had been immediate; blood began to gush from the wound and only increased in pressure when the soldier removed the blade from the injury - free from obstruction, his blood was able to come out in a warm, steady stream which stained his already red jacket the colour of fresh blood. His body had then collapsed to the jungle floor, his paling hands clutching at his neck laceration as blood seeped through his fingers and stained the green jungle crimson, that same blood bubbling out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe, choking on a mix of spit and gore. I remember slowly approaching him, my boots soaking through with his lifeblood the moment I had reached the strangers side, my eyes locked on his ashen face as it dawned upon him as to who I was.

His killer.

Reaching out a blood-drenched hand, the man had gasped out a single word before finally passed from this world, the light fading from his eyes.

What was the word?

Help!

"I'm a monster," I lament, wrapping my arms around my body as I'm shaken by sobs, "what was I thinking? I'm a monster!"

"You're not a monster," Edward soothes, wrapping his arms around my quivering from and running his fingers through my knotted curls. Despite the fact that his finger catch in the tangles, he gently combs through them with his coarse fingers and smooths the chaotic disorder that is my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ears as he often does. Then - and this momentarily stuns me - he presses his warm lips to my exposed forehead, before resting his against my smooth skin so he can gaze at me eye-to-eye. "You're not a monster," he repeats at a whisper, his azure-blue eyes gentle, "what you did Tess was make a decision that, at the time, you fought was necessary. I may be bias about that particular decision since it saved my life, but you made the right choice. You can't let doubt in otherwise you will, and mark my words, you will go insane with the guilt."

"But-" I start, reluctant to hear the truth in his words.

"Tess, sometimes the choices we make aren't always considered to be the right ones," Edward closes his eyes and rests his chin on the crown of my head, his fingers continuing to run through my wild, flame-red curls, "however, often we find that the choices are the ones that had to be made at the time. The fact is, no matter what, we can't go back in time and change them, no matter how much we may want to."

I stiffen at the 'back in time' reference, feeling immensely guilty at the reminder of a very important truth I had not yet disclosed to the handsome pirate holding me close.

"The decisions we make define us," Edward continues, pushing my body gentle away from his, grey-blue eyes locking into mine with an intensity, a desire to make me comprehend exactly what he is trying to say. "You can either let your decision torment you with guilt, or you can move on and accept that the choices you made were the right ones."

It made sense.

If anything, I now understood what it truly meant to be an Assassin - courage and an iron will. Amazing that I had lived my entire life thinking I knew what it mean to live as an Assassin, to be apart of an exclusive and deadly order, only to take another's life to really comprehend what that really implied.

I had made a decision to end someone's life to save another. I shouldn't regret it, particularly when the person I had saved understood the consequences of my actions and how they would affect someone like me. There was no point in wallowing in despair, thinking I should have done things differently when I couldn't alter my actions. Really, the reality of the situation had been simple, 'kill or be killed.'

Like I would admit it though.

"When did you get so wise?" I tease, blinking back my pointless tears.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replies, raising an eyebrow in amusement, "I've always been wise, you never listen to what I have to say."

"That's not true," I feebly object, my muscles relaxing further as I participate in Edward and I's familiar banter, "you're advice sucks."

"You know what?" Edward asks, once again griping my chin between two fingers so to bring my face closer to his and to hold my head steady. He didn't need to do so; his eyes always had this strange numbing effect on me, inspiring warmth to claw its way from the pit of my stomach to my entire body, causing my skin to tingle - and in a good way.

"What do I know?"

"I've never met a more ungrateful child," he answers, his face betraying nothing but the gravity of his words; even though I know that at his heart, he's not the least bit serious.

"Child?!" I exclaim.

Edward laughs - a real, heartfelt laugh - and once more knocks his forehead against mine, "I just love how your expression betrays each and every emotion you experience when you experience it. You're so easy to read."

"My brother used to call me an open book," I admit, rolling my eyes when Edward lets out a snort of amusement.

"You're also incredibly difficult," he continues, "sometimes, I can't read you no matter how hard I try."

I have no reply to that contradictory statement.

"That's the first time I've heard you mention a brother…"

"We're not related by blood," I tell him, reaching for the familiar chord and pearl I wore around my neck, twirling the cold jewel between my fingers as I reminisce, "I was adopted by his parents when I was about four… is this what you meant earlier by 'we need to talk?'"

Edward nods, his eyes drifting from my face to the horizon where the moon hangs over a black, silent sea. "I want to know more about you," he admits, "I don't want to be… how should I put it? I don't want to be caught off guard like I was earlier." His eyes snap back to my face and I note that the serious aura about Edward is indeed the real thing, "I want to know about you Tessa. Everything. How you're connected to this group, how you ended up on that beach that day… what you were like before I dragged you into this corrupt, sinful world."

Studying Edward's face, I reach out and touch his cheek, nodding in agreement. "Okay," I agree albeit slowly, considering what that would entail, "But I want you to tell me about your life… the life you had before you met me."

"Deal."

Nodding once more, I pull myself away from Edward and sit directly across from him, pulling my leather-clad knees to my chest. Taking a deep breath, I launch into my story.

"I don't remember much about my life prior to the age of four. My parents died when I was a baby - I don't remember much about my family and what I do know was told to me by others. None of what I know about them is from my own memory..."

At Edward's expression, I smile reassuringly and shake my head, "don't feel bad for me. I was adopted into a great family and they treated me as if I were truly their flesh and blood… some of the happiest years of my life were spent with my adoptive family."

"Between my adoptive parents and my adoptive brother, Shaun was the one who I was - am - closest too. He doesn't always have the best personality - I mean, most of the time he's a sarcastic jerk but he's… you know… he's my brother and I'd forgive him for any of his faults - but he also has some amazing qualities. For one, it was him who encouraged me to keep succeeding in everything I did; no one believed that I could succeed in what I wanted to do, no one except for him and for that I will always be grateful. He's also the reason I'm so passionate about history - he turned his passion into his job and as a result, history was often something we would discuss at dinner or late at night… Shaun is also the one who got us involved with the Assassin Order."

At this Edwards' thoughts, which may have been wandering slightly, snaps to attention - this is the good stuff.

"For as long as I can remember," I continue, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear absently, "Shaun was obsessed with conspiracy theories - kind of like you and the Observatory (at this Edward rolls his eyes and gives me his devil-may-care smile.) He managed at 15, I was about 11 or 12 at the time, to stumble across a conspiracy theory in action and discovered that those participating in it were up to, as he put it 'no good.' It inspired him to prevent their wrongful activities, and while he was working as a professor, he began to spread the word about their misdeeds."

"These people… they were Templars, weren't they?"

"Yeah," I answer, biting my lip, "and once they caught whiff of what Shaun was doing, they immediately took action. It was a few years after he began publishing that the Templars kidnapped my brother and… well, he escaped but at the time I was not aware of that fact. I was afraid I'd never see him again - I was aware, you see, exactly what he had been up to and knew that if I continued, I would be next. It was… difficult, trying to move on and forget about my brother, forget the situation he had managed to get himself into… trying to forget that my brother may be dead and I could be next. However, some time passed and he was able to get into contact with me again; when he did, he was already a part of the Assassin Order and was determined to do some good and bring an end to the people who kidnapped him. I was 19 when he convinced Rebecca - the woman who had inducted him into the Creed - that I, too, should be a part of the group-"

"And you were accepted?" Edward interrupts.

"It took a lot of effort - years of training condensed into weeks, skills that I had not yet refined put to the test in life or death situations… but yes," I answer with a nod, "I was accepted. Since that day, the Assassin's have been my family and it was through them that I was able to gain some insight into my parents. When I was writing out some old records - missions, Assassins active and those deceased, expenses… you know, those type of things - I stumbled across these papers which informed me not only of my parents death, but also the fact that they had belonged to the Order for as long as they had lived."

"You're kidding."

"It was a shock for me too... but I found their names, clear as day, despite the fact that some mice had made a snack of the old parchment, on a record of death… I also found their birth records and their mission logs," I smile, remembering the moment when I realised that in my hands I held essentially a portion of my life that I never knew. It was a confronting point in time, sitting at a desk in the dank, musty and without a doubt, dusty storeroom with the glow of the computer illuminating the faded pages. I remember my eyes absorbing each and every piece of information laid out on the yellowed parchment, committing each date, each important detail about their lives, to memory. Some part of me had hated my parents for dying, for leaving me as an infant alone without ever knowing what it meant to have a 'real' family but upon reading those documents, the resentment I once had faded away and all that remained was pride and love.

"My father was an Assassin, one of the best according to what the reports said. My mother on the other hand had been a contact, someone who gave Assassin's missions rather than participated in them. At first," I say, frowning as I try to get my words out in what I hoped would be the 'right' way, "it was hard… yet… it was something to cling to about my parents who I once knew nothing about. And maybe it was because of the fact that they were part of the Order, but it made me feel as if I belonged more with them, you know?"

"What was - is - it like?"

"Hmmm?"

"Being an Assassin?" Edward clarifies, catching the unmistakable glint of my silver knives, tucked securely into their leather pouch.

"It's-"

"God damnit!"

"Kidd, nice to see you're not dead," Edward says, his eyes flickering briefly to the young pirate.

"Nice to see you too," I return, Edward and I's conversation dying out before it could truly begin. Some part of me was relieved knowing that now there was no need to discuss the finer details about my past and by past, I mean Desmond. I wasn't ready to discuss the man who I was once loved - still love - more than I ever thought possible.

He didn't get to tell me anything about himself, I think, a little disappointed that the conversation hadn't been redirected to his past.

"Bastards been a target for years," the dark-haired boy growls, lashing out at a nearby seedling that was immediately uprooted from the safety of its soil, "bloody Hell, we nearly had him!"

"Nearly had who?" I ask, curious.

"Laurens Prins," Kidd grumbles, "he's a Dutch slaver, living like a king in Jamaica."

"Oh," I answer, getting to my feet when Edward offers me his hand.

"By God, you Bravos are a cheery bunch," Edward chuckles sarcastically, rolling his eyes and throwing an arm around my shoulder when he notices me shiver from the cold, his body radiating heat and comfort.

"We find no amusement in the situation, Captain Kenway," comes Ah Tabai's voice somewhere behind the pair of us, "apologies if that makes us seem dull."

The two of us turn to face the approaching Master Assassin, whose dark, painted face is twisted into an expression which is reminiscent of thunder. While Edward glares at the older man, I incline my head in greeting, always aware that as an Assassin myself, I should be polite to those more experienced.

"Miss North," he greets with a stiff nod.

"You have remarkable skills," Ah Tabai begrudgingly admits to Edward, "as do you, Miss North…"

"Thanks mate," Edward notes, squeezing my shoulders when he feels me tense beneath his hold, "it's natural, you see."

"But you are childish," Ah Tabai growls, approaching the two of us with a face of thunder, "arrogant, prancing around in a uniform you did not earn… if anything, that girl beside you should be proudly displaying her heritage with those stolen robes."

"I think I'll stick to black leather and my blouse, thanks," I retort.

"Everything is permitted," Edward states, raising his arms in mock surrender, "isn't that your motto?"

"That is your motto," Ah Tabai snarls.

At Kidd's sharp look, he clears his throat and averts his eyes, saying with what appears to take a lot of effort on his part, "I however, absolve you of your errors in Havana-"

"Thank god," I whisper, subconsciously reaching for Edwards' hand - feeling my fingers tap his, Edward loops our hands together and gives me reassuring squeeze.

"That being said," Ah Tabai continues and at this, he seems to take great pleasure in watching Edward's relieved expression shift to one of disbelief, "you are not welcome here and I must ask you to immediately vacate the premises."

"Hold on, that's not fair," I argue, taking a step forward but Edward's grip on my hand keeps me from doing something I would otherwise regret, "Edward helped all of you! If it weren't for him that Slave trader would be leaving the village with at least 30 new slaves to sell and make a handsome profit!"

"Tess, I don't particularly care," Edward murmurs reassuring in my ear, his calloused thumb rubbing circles into the palm of my hand, the one which he held in his gentle yet restraining tenure.

"Sorry Tess," Kidd sighs, his hand resting on my shoulder for but a second since I throw it off impatiently, "wish it were otherwise but Ah Tabai makes the rules here and… well…"

"He's supposed to be your friend!" I snap, glaring at the feminine man.

"He is my friend," Kidd retorts with a slightly offended look.

"Tess, James, just shut it," Edward sighs, pulling me back to his chest, a position which enables him to throw his arms around my upper torso, preventing me from moving despite my wiggling in his steel clutches.

"You may return, Miss North," Ah Tabai informs me, his dark eyes watching my face intently, perhaps reading my expression as easily as Edward, "you are a part of this Order and thus, we will always welcome you here."

"Oh."

"However," he continues, "you are not permitted within our lands if Edward Kenway is in your company."

"What bullshit!" I shriek, my face burning red with barely contained anger, "like I'd come back without Edward… you have another thing coming if you think that's ever going to happen."

"This is where you should be," Ah Tabai insists and surprising I can see concern in his dark gaze - concern for my general welfare or concern for his potential pawn?

"No," I correct, managing to remove myself from Edwards' control and striding forward, poking Ah Tabai sharply in his well-defined chest, "I belong with Edward."

Turning on my heel, I spin away from the Assassin Mentor and saunter towards Edward, grabbing his hand as I go and pulling his body - heavy with confusion and momentary surprise - after my petite form. "Let's go Edward, we should know when we're not wanted."

"Well… you're wanted," Edward points out with a breathy laugh, "I'm not."

"Thank you for your amazing observation, Captain Obvious," I snort.

"I'll see the two of you in Nassau," Kidd says as we pass him, his eyebrows quirked upright in amusement after watching the scene before him.

"Great," I answer sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"See you there," Edward replies, chuckling at my half-hearted reaction.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Adorable."

"Pardon?" I come to a stop on the sandy shores of the Tulum coast, glancing over my shoulder at my blonde-haired companion who, after what feels like hours of silence, speaks.

"Adorable… or cute… I think cute sounds better," Edward murmurs absentmindedly, nearly colliding with my solitary form whilst distracted, "you stopped… why did you stop?"

"Why do you keep saying random words?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"'Cute?' 'Adorable?'" I give him a puzzled look, "am I missing something."

"I was just thinking that you're cute when you're pissed," Edward chuckles.

"I'm not cute," I gasp, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at the handsome man before me, who continues to chuckle despite the look of death I was sure I was giving him.

"Fine, you're sexy."

I blush and look away, yet despite the removal of my gaze I can still feel Edwards' intense stare which is both exhilarating and unsettling. I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting for Edward to resume the conversation but the silence continues to stretch between us and I'm not entirely sure what I should say. Should I thank him for the slightly demeaning compliment? Should I ignore it and continue towards the Jackdaw which I can see anchored off the coast just out of the corner of my eye. No, that one wasn't an option.

"Can you stop staring at me?" I ask, turning my face back to his, startled when I see how close he is. "W-when did you…?" I stammer, taking a small step back, alarmed by his intense, unwavering concentration, his grey-blue eyes obscured by shadows, moving slowly over my face.

Without warning he closes the distance and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my feeble body to his, my hands braced against his chest in an attempt to keep what little distance between us that I could. My heart pounds at a speed that was almost reminiscent of my earlier panic attack but it wasn't uncomfortable unlike then; no, it was more of a flutter which caused warmth to spread throughout my body, the blood rushing to my cheeks in a heated blush. My throat felt dry - it hurt to swallow - and my eyes kept trying to avoid his but attracted to his azure depths, they always returned to his. "Ed…ward?" I whisper, feeling rather light-headed.

"Beautiful," he mutters, so quietly that my ears strain to pick up the simple word.

"W-w-what?"

"I don't think I thanked you for what you did," Edward suddenly says, startling me out of my hazy stupor.

"I… I don't…?"

"For saving my life."

"But you did…" I reply, my brow crinkled in confusion, "at least, I'm sure you did…"

"Not properly," Edward murmurs.

"What exactly do you mean by prop-"

But all the questions that I had flew from the confines of my mind when I felt his lips press up against me. He tasted like salt as I expected, but also faintly of alcohol and what was possibly blood, most likely a result of his split lip from the earlier brawl and… Edward… he tasted like himself, which may sound strange but it was the only thing I could really connect Edward to.

At first all I can do is stare, unresponsive to the kiss despite the pressure Edward forces upon my lips, my eyes taking his closed eyes and his rather long eyelashes. However, soon I begin to respond, my fingers clutching the front of his shirt as I struggle to remain upright, my knees shaking from exhilaration and passion. My eyes flutter closed and I'm engulfed by pleasant darkness; my nostrils inhale his unmistakable saltwater-laced scent as I melt into the kiss and all I can think as Edward slowly moves his tongue into my mouth, recognising my willingness to participate, is that if I was to put this into words, I would say it was as if I were floating on a cloud.

All too soon, the kiss comes to an end and I'm left breathless, more than a little stunned and confused. Confused because one, that kiss was more a little unexpected, two, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would to the point where three, if that was Edwards' idea of a thank you, I was very willing to participate in any future thank yous… and finally four… four… not once did I sit there and think that that was wrong and it was wrong.

Very, very, very wrong.

"Thank you," Edward repeats, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Edward…" I begin, clearing my throat when his name comes out at a croak.

"Let's go," he interrupts, running a hand through his blonde curls, his eyes unable to look me directly in the face. His cheeks were slightly red, his shirt crumpled from my tight grip, his lips almost as red as his flushed cheeks.

"But… Edward… we-"

"Adéwalé will be waiting for us, wondering what we've been up to…" Edward continues, ignoring my attempts at a conversation, "come… I thought you were anxious to get going?"

"I am, it's just-"

"Well then, let's go."

As Edward walks away, I raise my hand to my lips and finger the soft, swollen pads, my head spinning. Why hadn't I stopped him? I had my chance to shove him away before he deepened that kiss but I had allowed his tongue to touch mine and as a result, I indulged in his affections. I was… disgusted but at the same time I was pleased, my stomach fluttering with invisible butterflies.

"Tess, let's go!"

Startled out my daydream, I look to Edward's retreating figure and shake my head, clearing it of any thoughts that were in regards to that kiss.

Forget that it ever happened, I tell myself firmly and upon reassuring myself that it was merely a thank you… a game… I begin to run after Edward, my face flushed and my heart soaring with unmistakable joy.