A/N: Thanks so so much for your wonderful thoughts and for coming back after the long hiatus. My mind just isn't where it used to be. But, with you guys' patience, we'll get there. 3

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

So, this chapter picks up two weeks from where the last chapter left off.

Chapter 23 – Walking Sticks and Stilettos


Two Weeks Later:

Bella

I was dreaming a dream I'd dreamed maybe a handful of times over the past couple of weeks.

I was in New York City, in Edward and Tristan's city. I knew it was New York City because, in real life, I'd been there, once, to the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps. It was in the time before, which was one of the ways I measured my life – The Time Before versus The Time After. But anyway, a few college friends and I visited on winter break during my freshman year. We'd done the tourist things, gone to trendy bars, partied hard, and stayed out late. It was an undeniably fun, loud, flashy, glammy, and addictive city.

The landmark that now stood out in my dream was Times Square's bright, flashing, and blinding lights. Because in this dream, I no longer lived in Forks but in New York City. And as I stood at the Broadway and Forty-second Street crossroads, the glaring screens and glossy billboards of the so-called Great White Way tilted unnaturally. Glimmering skyscrapers traded places with concrete sidewalks as I staggered and stumbled from city block to city block.

What made the dream a nightmare was the way every stranger I passed looked at me: distastefully, with a note of disapproval as if they suspected I'd over-imbibed – much how Edward had looked at me when we'd first met. But, in the end, with no other choice, I asked one of these strangers, a kindly looking older gentleman dressed in black formal wear and a top hat, for help.

"Excuse me, but do you know where Edward lives?"

Never mind that I gave no last name and that New York City's population approached ten million, whereas Forks' could barely boast four-thousand residents. It was a dream. And either way, the gentleman glared at me as if I were a bug sprouting multiple heads, then replied in a proper British accent:

"We don't assist unknown people in this town! Now go away!" He shooed me away with his walking stick.

Next, I asked for help from a six-foot-tall model wearing black patent leather from head to toe.

"I'm sorry, but can you please help me find Edward?"

She scowled at me as if she wanted nothing more than to crush me under her stilettos.

"Ugh, if you can't find Edward on your own, why are you even here?" She shooed me away with a hand sporting gem-encrusted fingernails.

So, I gave up asking for directions and instead decided to take my chances wandering the streets. After all, in Forks, I always found my way. Someone always helped.

But then the flashing lights of an ambulance appeared. The vehicle stopped short right in front of me, and before I could cry out, a pair of medics dressed all in white hopped out of the ambulance and grabbed me.

OOOOO

There was a hum in my ears.

I didn't recognize it, not with the morning lethargy still fogging my head and my eyes shut. Somewhere beyond what had to be an open window, a pair of birds called to one another, a back-and-forth, daybreak love song full of whistled promises. Their harmony ebbed and flowed, growing further then nearer, and I imagined they flirted and flitted from tree branch to tree branch. But the peculiar hum wasn't theirs. There was no harmony in this hum.

After a moment, I set aside my curiosity in favor of savoring the crisp coolness of the sheets under me. My bare legs shifted from side to side. Still drowsy, it took me a few seconds to register that my feet didn't reach the ends or sides of the bed when I stretched. That raised the question of why the mattress under me felt so cozy and huge – too huge for my tiny converted garage apartment.

Meanwhile, the hum continued, and now, I vaguely wondered if it was one of the strong summer breezes that sometimes skimmed down the nearby mountains and whistled against the windows. But no. The sound wasn't nature-made. Neither was it a household appliance whirring monotonously. This hum had…bite, sort of like a pocket of turbulence in its early, unpredictable stages, but every few seconds, it seemed to stop and deliberate, still setting its course. Yet, with every passing minute, it sounded less uncertain, bending increasingly toward steely, toward a storm brewing into a squall.

And in that handful of foggy, lethargic seconds that follow waking, the hum made little sense beyond that. It remained bits and pieces of undecipherable gibberish.

"…after this episode, I would've thought you'd see where I'm coming from…"

"…won't say I don't empathize with your struggle with her struggle-"

"…don't mock my concern…"

"…promise I'm not mocking your concern, but it's her choice, and I won't undermine…"

"…easy to say when you're only going to be around for…"

"…all due respect, I'm not going to discuss topics that she and I…"

My breath suddenly caught. Then, my eyes popped open.

I knew it wasn't how I was supposed to do things. There were certain rules I'd set up a long time ago – for my own well-being – to how I awoke and when I opened my eyes. Determinations and measurements I had first to take. But this was an emergency, and it surpassed all my rules.

And the moment's status as critical had nothing to do with the words I'd just heard. As I said, at that moment, the words were still gibberish in my head, nothing more than letters and sound creating a rumbling hum with no actual meaning. What permeated the sleepy fog in my head was their discordancy, a disharmony that created unease and, in that instant, crystallized two things in my mind. These were the only two things I knew intrinsically, in my core, and without a sliver of doubt at that moment. Two things I knew the way I knew that one plus one equals two:

The first was that a little boy existed in my world.

The second was that his well-being was paramount.

"Tristan," I gasped.

The looming, nebulous hum now took on the dark, hazy hue of a threat to him – to my little boy.

In one motion, I leaped from the comfortable yet atypical bed. Unfortunately, still befuddled, the surrounding layout was unrecognizable, and I'd forgone my usual waking routine. What resulted was a beeline progression that deteriorated into a pinball-like obstacle course real quick. I stubbed my big toe against the bed frame and jumped back, only to bang into a wall. Yelping, I ricocheted off the wall, limping one-legged toward the door, where I stumbled and hit my shoulder against the frame. Finally finding my way out of the room, I hopped the short length of the hallway into Tristan's bedroom.

All the while, none of my piling-up bumps and bruises mattered. My pounding heart didn't matter, nor did my racing pulse or the spinning in my head that threatened to bring up bile. In fact, it all faded into inconsequence the moment I laid eyes on the sweetest little copper-haired boy in the world.

He was lying on his left side, facing me, and tangled in his sheets. His red-and-blue superhero pajamas were skewed, exposing a tiny tummy and an outie for a belly button, the elasticized pant legs riding up all the way to his minuscule kneecaps. His copper hair clumped in places and flattened against his crown in others. Pink lips, slightly agape, vented a sticky stream of drool that skimmed down a jawline already a miniature of his father's. Various spots on his pillow marked a wet trail of where his mouth had traversed the night.

"Tristan." This time, his name erupted in a sigh, accompanied by an irrepressible smile that tugged the corners of my mouth high. He was the most precious being in the world, and no one would ever convince me that a more precious being existed. As I watched him sleeping safely and soundly, my heart filled to such overflowing levels that I had to place a hand over it to keep it from bursting into pieces all over the floor and thereby needlessly awaken the precious angel.

With long, deep, and immeasurably relieved breaths and on silent feet, I backed out of Tristan's room. Then, resting my back against the wall, I slithered to my bottom and shut my eyes.

"Thank you, Lord," I whispered, "for keeping him safe throughout the night."

Strange. Until very recently, my waking routine had been my sole focus the instant I slid into consciousness. Now, it had taken a far back seat to ensuring Tristan's well-being and then to displays of gratitude for it. Nonetheless, with that well-being confirmed and thanks given, a couple of other incidentals came to mind.

My daily inventory was one of them; the physiological measurements that determined what type of day I'd have – measurements that had already started their day on a skyrocketing course. But also, where was Tristan's dad?

That last incidental brought the morning's unidentified hum back to the forefront.

My head shot up. The ivory curtains that dressed the hallway's bay window billowed from a real morning breeze seeping through a narrow opening between the window sill and pane. A pair of voices, now wholly recognizable, hitched a ride on the undulating air.

"It wasn't even as bad as it can get."

A long exhalation followed. "Chief, I get it, I do, but as I said, Bella is an adult-"

"I know she's an adult, Edward. But you weren't there in the hospital after that bastard almost killed her."

"Jesus, Godpop. What the hell?" I breathed.

Concurrently, I got to my feet, intending to yank open the window and bellow down at my godfather, something along the lines of:

'Godpop, I love you, but why the hell are you bringing this up in Edward's backyard at this time of morning? Also, please go home!' I found myself wishing I had a walking stick. Or stilettos.

However, as I reached for the window, the home's summer renter himself spoke, and my hand froze on the sill.

"No, Chief, I wasn't there because I didn't know her. And because at the same time that Bella was going through that nightmare, I was on the other side of the country burying my wife and wondering how the hell I was going to raise an infant boy by myself."

All air left my lungs in a quiet whoosh through narrowed lips. Like a heavy lead weight, my hand dropped back to my side. And I should've made my presence known; I knew I should've. Instead, I stood there with my heart once again feeling as if it would burst, but this time in shared pain for what Edward…and Kate had gone through.

In Godpop's defense, he sounded deservedly chagrined when he spoke next.

"Edward, I didn't mean-"

"Yet, even with all that…with all that," Edward continued, "I picture it often. I think of what that animal did to Bella," he hissed, "what he could've done to her, and I want nothing more than to be able to go back in time and save her like…like I'm a goddamned hero," he snorted self-deprecatingly. "At the very least, I wish I could've been there for her when she was in the hospital. I…I picture…"

The rest hung in the air, either shame or fury keeping the words unspoken. And for a few pounding heartbeats, I thought he'd say nothing more. But then, the rest tumbled out in a seething stream of hatred, almost as if he couldn't hold back. And the loathing was so pure, so undisguised, that even from up here, in my hidden spot above him, it made me shiver.

"Then I picture myself choking the ever-living shit out of him with my bare hands and grinning as I watch his life force drain away, then releasing him and hearing the thump his lifeless body makes as it hits the ground. Dark, I know. Evil. And ridiculous," he scoffed, "when I'm a father and an attorney, and I shouldn't ever consider murder a solution. Only slightly less disturbing, I sometimes imagine a past where I took up prosecuting as a career path so that I could've been the prosecuting attorney in Bella's case and ensured that the bastard had the book fucking hurled at him because he doesn't deserve ever to see the light of day again," he seethed. "And I know none of that makes any sense because I didn't know her and because I was where I needed to be, and I wouldn't change that either. But please don't think for a minute, Charlie, that I don't see the seriousness of Bella's situation."

In the ensuing silence, I risked a peek down below. On the wooden deck stood my godfather in his police chief uniform and Edward in sweats and a tee shirt, like a couple of misplaced wild west cowboys. They were more like a couple of well-meaning yet errant knights in shining armor who still needed to learn, each in his own way, that trying to save me from my past was an exercise in futility. And that the attempt only led to misery for themselves.

Pulling back, I sat on the floor just to the side of the window, then rested the back of my head against the wall.

"Then, what's the plan here, Edward?" Charlie asked, his tone conciliatory, yet despite having wrenched such a dark confession from Edward, apparently still unwilling to get his ass home. "If you understand that Bella's situation is serious and permanent, that she'll always have good days interspersed with some seriously bad ones, and that there's a monster out there who will one day see the light of day…what's your plan?"

This was way beyond more than enough, but again before I could make my presence known, Edward fired back quickly. And the rest of the discussion proceeded in the same, rapid-fire manner.

"My plan?" Edward snorted, and I could hear the scowl in his voice. "I did something that…that maybe I shouldn't have done. But it's done, and with all due respect, I'm not discussing it with you when she and I haven't canvassed it yet. So, Chief, if you're here at this time of morning-"

"I'm here because I arrived home from an overnight shift, and when I asked about Bella, my wife finally admitted that Bella was spending the night with you."

"Maybe Sue neglected to announce it the second you walked through the door because she recognizes that Bella is a grown woman-"

"And once again, you misunderstand me. I don't care that she's here with you, Edward. On the contrary, despite our current disagreement, I consider you a fine young man, an excellent father, and…" he sighed, "and I know you care deeply about her, Edward. I know you do. But I have concerns because, never mind that she's only just recovered from her latest episode and should be taking it easy instead of returning to work today. Never mind that I hear she's already got a hiking trip planned with Emily tomorrow. Never mind that she'll probably be surfing with Ty next. I've become used to all that."

I snorted.

"Then what's-" Edward began.

"It's Tristan," Charlie said.

The entire world went still. Outside, it sounded as if everything from the hummingbirds to the billowing breeze ceased. The curtains didn't move, and when Edward spoke, I heard the same tentative indignation I felt, the same protective instinct, the rising hackles, the flaring nostrils that should've alerted Charlie he was treading dangerous ground.

"What about Tristan?" Edward asked brusquely.

"Edward," my godfather sighed, "Tristan is a great boy, and Sue and I, well, in just the short while we've known you both, you have become special to us. Please don't doubt that."

Edward said nothing.

"And…and I apologize if I stirred up bad memories before, and I want you to know, as I've told you before, that you've done an amazing-"

"What about Tristan, Charlie?" Edward repeated impatiently, cutting off my godfather's rant. I was glad because he'd exhausted my patience too.

Charlie expelled a heavy breath. "Over the past couple of weeks, while Bella was sick, you spent every moment possible with her. You were there for her. I do see that. And somehow, despite his young age, you got your little boy to understand that Bella wasn't feeling well, that he had to treat her gently. It was…amazing. And touching. And I'll admit now that I was surprised at how well he did with it because I know it isn't easy for a young boy of three to understand."

And just like that, Godpop bought himself a reprieve from my imagined walking stick and stilettos.

"He loves her," Edward said.

Warmth crept up my spine. It spread into my chest and then outwardly into my extremities. It infused every particle, every chamber of my heart. Each and every ventricle until I was awash, aglow in it.

My gaze swept over to Tristan's bedroom, and I grinned. I felt as light as helium, but in a good way rather than in the nausea-inducing manner my life had accustomed me to.

Yet, that warmth, in tandem with the view of Tristan's bedroom, also grounded me. Because I could no longer float away or allow myself to become overwhelmed by either nausea or lightheadedness with little concern – if not little care – for who it affected. Even this morning, ensuring his well-being trumped ensuring my own. And I was fine with that. Because, up until now, anyone affected by my Vertigo was a person capable of taking care of themselves. No one depended on me for their well-being.

Now, I was essential. I was integral to someone's needs in that age-old manner in which I'd never imagined myself being.

"He loves her," Charlie repeated, "and it's no secret that she adores him the way…well, the way she would've adored a child of her own. So she'll push herself for him, do things she shouldn't do, and make promises she shouldn't make because, as you very well know, that's what we do for our children."

"Chief-"

"So, when he asks her for the moon, as any young child will ask, Bella will bend over backward. Perform somersaults. Reach and jump to her own detriment to try and deliver that moon. Edward, she's known for years that the flash from fireworks is detrimental to her stability. Yet, as soon as Tristan asked-"

"Sir, I respect you," Edward said, his voice shaking with the repressed fury of a man who'd reached his limit, "and for the sake of that respect, I'm going to wish you a good day and return upstairs to Bella and Tristan. We'll see you later."

OOOOO

Edward crept back into the room. From the bed, where I'd buried myself under the sheets, I heard him shut the door. Then, for a few seconds, I heard nothing, and I got the distinct feeling that he was just…standing there, gazing at me. Then the bed dipped, and in the next moment, he eased in behind me, his warm body cradling mine. Sliding his arms gently around me, he pulled me against his chest and rested his hands over my stomach.

"Bella…are you awake?" he whispered.

I wanted to tell him I'd heard everything, but…I didn't want to ruin the moment, the morning, the day. I was well again. I was going back to work today. Tristan had been so looking forward to my return to camp. Then he, Edward, and I were spending the afternoon at the beach.

So I said nothing.

Edward held me tighter, burying his face against my shoulder.

"S'okay, baby. Still early." He sighed, his breath warming my entire frame. "Sleep, my pretty girl. Regain all your amazing strength..." Again, the words were barely more than breaths, but they were spoken with such a shaky sort of…emotion, like a plea to God or the heavens. "Regain your energy…your vitality." He sighed. "Oh, Bella, what I wouldn't do for you. But I'd never purposely hurt-"

At this turn of a one-sided conversation, I meant to admit I was awake, but a thump resounded across the hall. It was quickly followed by the sound of a pair of small feet scurrying closer. Edward was at the door at the same time that Tristan pushed it open.

"Dad! I up!"

"Shh, buddy," I heard Edward whisper, "not so loud."

"I not loud! But why come I gotta be not loud? I always like this! Dad, did Bella sleep over? You said Bella was gonna sleep over! Did she?"

The momentary upset caused by my godfather's unexpected visit faded into nonexistence in the face of Tristan's exuberance. I felt my heart soaring, that wonderful, new lightheadedness that had nothing to do with sickness return.

"Yes, she did," Edward whispered.

"YAY!" Tristan shouted.

"SHH!" Edward shot back. "Trist, remember we still have to be gentle, and that means no screaming or jump- Tristan!"

Edward turned and reached for his sprinting son, just barely missing him as the latter careened toward the bed, where I now sat waiting and chuckling. Unfortunately for Tristan, his father's bed was much higher than his, and he couldn't quite jump onto the mattress despite his attempts.

"Bella! Bella! Bella!"

"Pee-wee! Good morning!" I stretched out my arms to reach for him.

"Tristan! Bella! Wait!" Edward crossed the room and quickly knelt next to his son, placing his hands on Tristan's shoulders. "Tristan, stop jumping."

"It's okay, Edward," I smiled.

Edward looked up at me, his hands still on his son's shoulders, while poor Tristan vibrated excitedly yet listened to his dad.

"Are you sure?" Edward murmured, and I caught the momentary narrowing of his eyes, the uncertainty caused by my godfather's speech this morning.

"Yes, Edward," I sighed.

I wouldn't tell him about this morning's mad dash, about the small bumps and bruises I might sport for the next few days. After this morning, he wouldn't understand them.

Instead, I grinned broadly as Edward picked his son up and set him on the bed beside me.

"Bella!" Tristan bounced on his knees over the mattress. "Your head don't hurt? Can I hug you?"

Pulling him into my arms, I kissed his cheek loudly, "Muaah!" while he giggled and squirmed. "Yes, little man. You can definitely hug me."

Over Tristan's shoulder, I watched Edward as he took a seat next to us at the edge of the bed. Our eyes held, and he offered me a soft grin before leaning in and cupping my cheek. He brushed his lips against mine, then kissed his son's crown. Any shadow of uncertainty that had momentarily crossed his features was gone by the time he pulled back. Instead, his emerald eyes sparkled in the bit of morning sunlight streaming through the window blinds.

"Good morning, pretty girl. Did you sleep well?"

I smiled in return and reached out a hand, which he instantly met with his own. Weaving our fingers together, I squeezed tightly. "I slept very well, Edward. So, so very well."

"Good," he murmured. "Are you ready for your day?"

I swallowed thickly. Brushing my lips against Tristan's temple, I pulled Edward by our joined hands. Then I kissed him softly.

"Edward, I awoke to you and Tristan. I'm ready for anything."


A/N: Thoughts?

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