[Edit: 6 Sept 2021]

I wake to darkness. (Heart beating too fast. Why can't I see?) The presence of flickering light across the room breaks it down into dancing shadows.

I draw in a shaky breath. My headache is gone. The crisp air makes me feel more human than I have in…forever. It feels like forever. It's probably been forever.

Despite the stale, bloody scent of a vampire, I draw in another deep breath. Resplendent in its uncomplicated acceptance of movement.

Last night was a mess. I realise now, somewhat dazed by the sheer magnitude of – not being dead being able to see, quite, blissful quiet – my situation how close Sam had been to ripping out my throat, how close I had been to inciting him to it (withering on the ground, screaming, just kill me). My wolf curls up, whining at this revelation but I muzzle it. We're better here, safer.

The bonds of the pack are remarkably listless and empty. (Somehow it helps, not having several teenagers howling in my head. Not too many scents or sights or tactile distortions to interrupt the pain.)

Contrary to how it may seem, I'm not stupid. I know Sam doesn't love me, his tolerance of my presence after he'd imprinted on Emily had been waning for years. But still. I thought perhaps exasperation at being stuck with his ex would shadow in comparison to that I am – was – pack. Family despite there being no blood shared.

The rational part of me, which not tied to wolves or ex-boyfriends or self-pity, is elated to be free from the confines of the pack. Sam's pack. It's better this way. Away from forced dedication and forced interaction, constant reminders of what I can't ever have, what I never truly had.

That does not expel the ache in my heart though.

The bright white square flickers in the corner of the room, the soft electrical hum of the television reminding me of swarms of flies around a carcass. The vampire shifts, throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

I stared at the flickering light. The television is on mute and for the life of me I can't tell what's on the screen. It flickers black and white.

I consider for a moment: Buffy or Dracula? My lips twitch.

A vampire is a vampire is a vampire. Garlic, crucifixes, and sunlight aside. Blood is the denominator, and I purposefully ignore the scent of it in the air.

(I can smell her, there, just there. So close I could reach out and pull out her throat. But I can't move. I can't make her stop.)

The headache is gone and somehow my memory of yesterday is crystal clear, despite the recollection of the pain being dull and insignificant. Then again, perhaps the good ol' doctor has hooked me up with some morphine. I shift my legs painstakingly, cringing as the ligaments pull. They bend forward at the knees and I stop to stare at them, hidden as they are under blankets. Trembling, I raise my hands. I'm greeted by short rounded nails, cuticles in a rather shoddy state.

(I can't control the way my body, it doesn't feel like my body anymore, shifts and changes and shakes. A mudslide, hurricane, and volcanic eruption all in one. Claws scrape at the ground around me, trying to purchase even as my human arms flail weakly.)

"Oh good, you're awake,"

I tense, pressing my hands over my face. Breathe. Breathe. Damn you, breathe!

Carlisle's footsteps are hardly audible, but he smells of antiseptic. My skin is smooth and wet beneath my hands – gone are the ridges of my forehead. I try not to shudder too visibly as I drop my hands and look at the man. His eyes are a conglomeration of honey, brandy, and gold chips. "Doc," I choke out, holding out my shaking hands.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes forming crow's feet as he reaches out to grasp them. "Emmett, Rose needs you,"

The vampire on the couch rises fluidly, clicks off the television and winks at me before making his retreat. Blue.

My chest constricts painfully.

"I hope you don't mind. Rosalie got to the reservation first and made the executive decision to bring you here. I happen to agree that under the circumstances this is the best place for you, at the moment." He releases my hands to pluck the penlight from his pocket.

I wipe half-heartedly at my tears. "No," my voice cracks and I'm just glad it sounds like something other than a growl - that my throat doesn't try to form an inhuman syllable. "Thank you,"

He flashes the light in my eyes, back and forth and hums his appreciation. "We tend to do things we regret when our judgement is replaced by pain. Granted, you had every right to be upset and Sam should have known better. I would like to speak to him about it at some point, with your permission of course."

Upset is as good a word as any. But it's not what I'm feeling

I examine him, in a crinkle-free button down and black slacks, eyes like firelight. And I marvel at why I ever hated him. Doctor Carlisle Cullen, a chivalrous knight plucked from the pages of a historical novel, here to save me yet again. I twitch with the sudden desire to hug him – to blabber grossly, with snot and tears and heaving breaths against his shoulder, arms meant to protect and comfort against my back.

He pulls back the blanket and prods experimentally at my toes and knees – the touch gentle enough not to hurt but brings about the familiar spasm of being tickled – doing who the hell knows what doctor-thing.

Eventually, I shake my head. "I…" I swallow, "I cn't talk, or think, 'bout -now."

He nods, eyelids fluttering with the movement. "That's something for later."

I shift my legs again – holy hell hound on a cracker, they work – and offer a fearful smile. "Walk?"

"Well, then you are in luck." He smiles at me, straightening the blanket over my legs, bright and honest and hopeful. "The transition in your home allowed for many of your bones and muscles to shift again. I was able to reset many of those deformed from Jane's attack. With your advanced healing you should be able to walk again within the week."

(The earth is rough against my skin, thicket and branches stabbing at me as if it's not painful enough already. I need to get away. Run. I need to run.)

My eyelids flutter closed and I breathe deeply through my nose. "Good - good."

"How is your head?"

My smile is tremulous. "Fine,"

"Brilliant," He gives me a cursory look, "If you are feeling well enough then I'll let Renesme visit, I did promise you that she would read for you and she's been looking forward to it."

As if summoned, "May I come in?" A small voice calls from behind the door.

Carlisle looks at me and I twitch again – the affirmation locked somewhere behind distant screams and cries of 'hold me'. "Yes, Leah is waiting for you,"

The girl all but flies through the door and launches herself at me. I find myself locked in the same embrace that I'd seen Jacob receive many times before. My hands shake as I press them to her back, not cold, not warm. But there. The perfect weight.

Carlisle steps back, eyes doing their crinkle thing. "She's rather enthusiastic,"

"Happy birthday!" She sing-screams and kisses my cheek.

My hands stop their unsure petting, no, my birthday is only in a month's time. It hasn't been this long. I look at Carlisle.

"You were out for a while with the first attack. And lapsed while healing. You have been here for three days now."

(Forever. Forever. It's never going to stop. Never going to get better.)

"We didn't want you to worry," Renesme says and jumps up, ripping herself from my fractured hold, to spin in yellow circles beside the bed. She stops to place both hands on her hips, chest pushing out against the sequins of her shirt. "Aunt Alice helped me make a cake, it's really pretty."

I blink, trying to wrap my head around the time disparity, the empty spot between my arms, the sequins, and the cake. The realisation that I've probably lost my job. I briefly despair whether Seth is eating and have to shove the instinctual worry to the back of my mind. He's fine. He's always fine. Rather, more importantly: a vampire baked me a cake.

"Don't worry," Carlisle laughs, "It is edible. Alice found the recipe on the internet."

I forced something approximating a smile. "Thanks, Ness,"

Her small face lights with joy. "It was so much fun! I ate some of the icing, and it's really, really yummy. It's chocolate. Do you want some now?"

A snort escapes me, her earnest excitement must have magical soothing qualities. The awkwardness of being the only person in a house that eats cake might have finished me off. "Yea-, love to."

"Good! There's chocolate sponge, chocolate chips, and chocolate icing. Chocolate is the best. Momma says I shouldn't eat too much though. It makes you sick, but Jacob says I can have as much as I want because I can't get sick. Momma can't eat chocolate though, she does get sick when she eats it, so does Aunty Alice and Aunty Rose. Maybe Momma doesn't know that I can't get sick? You don't get sick from chocolate, right? Jacob said you wouldn't, but he lies sometimes. Like when he said I'd like broccoli, which was bad."

"Like chocolate," I tell her when she stops to take a breath.

"Come," she gestures for me to follow her. And I nearly do.

Carlisle's hand rests on my ankle. "Why don't you bring the cake here?" Carlisle suggests and the girl is already nodding as she slips away. He turns to me, "How are your eyes, would you like me to switch on the light?"

"Clearer, that- mean, appreciate it,"

"You shouldn't be eating yet, considering the circumstances, I should put you on a drip." He mutters as he heads to the wall.

I dither, mind caught up in Renesme's glowing pride. "Chocolate good,"

"Yes, well, as a doctor I do not condone this. As a supernatural creature, I hope you don't mind, but I'm curious to see how your body will react."

Honest to a fault, my chest aches, I may actually start liking him. Like a vampire, the thought is ridiculous, but I've already befriended the half breed, so what could stop the dominoes from falling now?

"Of course if you aren't up to it, I can have Jacob eat it with her."

A small part of me shies from this information. I can't remember Jake being there when I snapped but it is also possible he had stood there like the rest and watched. Clear as my memory seems, I was pretty far gone at the time and I won't count it as reliable. I don't want to know though, if he had been there he should easily have been able to defy Sam and help me, he's lucky that way.

I shake my head.

"Ready?" A click sounds and bright light floods the room.

The cake tastes like baking powder, but the icing is sweet and Renesme gets it smeared across the tip of her nose as she giggles.

I breathe.