A Body of Water and Bones

by Littlest Cactus

"It was a good distinction to make. I wasn't Bella, but for the time being, I could be Isabella." Because time marches on and waking up as Bella Swan is unfortunate, but it's not the end of the world. Only the end of her's. [SI-OC, Rated for Violence]

59. Paint the Roses Red

LIX. Paint the Roses Red

The rain had temporarily calmed to a light drizzle, drumming sparsely against the porch roof above us as Edward and I awaited Esme's arrival. A grove of trees kept the house separated from the garage, but my keen ears heard every bit of movement―the purr of the car engine cutting off, the opening and shutting of the car door, Esme's light and quick footsteps, first across solid concrete, and then over the wet, uneven terrain.

Until finally, she appeared between the gaps of thinning tree branches, raindrops sparkling across waves of flowing caramel hair as she darted gracefully over the meadow-like front lawn.

"Isabella!"

I snatched my hand out of Edward's grip and launched myself into Esme's awaiting arms.

Esme stumbled, but didn't fall, holding me firmly atop the porch steps.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry I wasn't here," she murmured into my hair, clutching me tightly.

"It's okay," I mumbled, face buried against her shoulder, the lovely fragrance of her silk blouse and something that was sweet and purely Esme engulfing me in its comforting scent. "I was a right terror. I'm relieved you didn't have to see all that."

"Darling, you can't have been any worse than I was," she laughed gently. "Come, let's head inside."

I reluctantly pulled away and allowed her to steer me back through the front door. To my disappointment, Edward had already vanished, but when I heard the delicate piano music flooding the house once again, I relaxed. He wouldn't stray far.

Esme lead me back up to the second floor landing and in the direction of Carlisle's office, where we found Carlisle sitting at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration. He was surrounded by piles of composition notebooks, bookmarked and stacked heedlessly around him, effectively shielding any open pages from my view.

At our entrance, Carlisle lifted his gaze. The previous solemnity of his expression softened, eyes becoming lost solely in Esme's, his countenance glowing like the shimmering gold of sunrise. "Welcome home, my love."

"Thank you, my love," she greeted him in return, smile radiant; a sunflower readily soaking up his warmth. "Isabella and I will be in my study."

He nodded, acknowledging me with a kind, reassuring smile, before returning to whatever research had caused him to become so pensive.

Esme guided me towards a door hidden between a pair of towering ceiling-to-floor length bookshelves, directly across from the open archway on the opposite side of the room that lead into Carlisle's personal library.

The lights flickered on as we entered and I gazed around in wonder. Where Carlisle's study resembled a dean's office with its dark wood paneling, shelving hundreds of old books, and adorned with sophisticated furnishings, Esme's was bright and full of color. Like Edward's bedroom, an entire wall was made of glass, reflecting back the glowing room. But I could see past that, into the stormy night. In the distance, the river wound through clusters of swaying firs, and beyond that, the range of mountains were painted across thundering skies, lit by flashes of forked lighting.

The tables of Esme's small study were swamped with blueprints, paint swatches, tile samples, and all manner of open sketchbooks. Across one wall hung various fabric samples, and across another, strips of paint colored it haphazardly, as though used for testing and comparison.

Despite my curiosity, Esme introduced me to none of these things. Instead, she steered towards a pretty, mid-century loveseat situated along the wall opposing the tall panes of glass, where we sat and leaned back into the white cushions. Across from us, the rain grew heavier, rhythmically striking glass in shattering swells.

Esme gently pulled me into her arms, holding me tenderly as she murmured, "Tell me everything I missed."

I sighed, reluctant. But I knew I couldn't refuse her. And with far too much clarity I recalled and shared all that had come to pass in the last twelve hours. Admittedly, I edited it out a lot of my own feelings. The return of Esme had brought with it its own sense of peace and I refused to demolish that.

In the next room, Carlisle continued to flip through notebook pages, and down the hall, Rosalie and Emmett conversed quietly. Downstairs, Edward played the piano without pause, and Alice and Jasper were gone, presumably ransacking a morgue somewhere.

Fortunately, my storytelling caused no disruptions.

"My, that is an eventful first day," she hummed, fingers carding through the length of my ponytail.

"I'm sorry about breaking your wall," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Oh that's alright, sweet girl," she laughed, as though it were a common occurrence. "The boys have caused much worse destruction. Emmett essentially destroyed our whole house in his first year alone. Why do you think he's so good at repairing walls?"

"That tracks," I giggled.

"You'll quickly learn just how fragile the world around us really is," Esme assured me. "But I trust that any intended rowdiness will be taken outside?"

I huffed, "Yes, mom."

The arm around my shoulders squeezed me tightly. "That's my girl."

She continued to hold me all through the night while we chatted quietly and watched the unrelenting storm.

But all too soon, the rain slowed to a halting stop, dawn breaking over the gloomy horizon, and she was off again, getting ready for the new day and gathering her things in a whirlwind.

Esme paused long enough to pull me into another gentle embrace, planting a kiss on my cheek. "You'll call me if you need me."

It wasn't a question.

"Of course," I assured her nonetheless and was rewarded with yet another one of her meltingly warm smiles.

And then, she was off to Calgary once more.

Similarly, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper were forced to depart for school. From what I'd gathered, they'd missed classes most of the week and Carlisle had decided that for the sake of appearances their absences could no longer continue.

Unsurprisingly, it was Alice who came by with a fresh set of clothes in hand to kick me out of Esme's study. "I've endured your dusty hair long enough," she huffed, gesturing towards the residue of plaster I had yet to wash out of my braids. "I trust you can dress yourself this time?"

"I think I got it," I grumbled, carefully gripping the stack of neatly folded clothes and the pair of new shoes.

"Good!" she chirped and skipped off, presumably to take over babysitting duty from Rosalie.

I glided back up to the third floor bathroom, which shone as pristine as the first time I'd seen it. Any blood smears from the previous day had been thoroughly scrubbed away, bloody and torn clothes thoroughly disposed of.

Now that I was without Alice, I was forced to be extremely careful. After setting my new clothes on the wide marble counter, I started by tugging off the hair tie holding up my hair and carefully unweaving every meticulous braid Alice had plaited across my scalp. Too quickly, I learned to be gentle, unwilling to yank out and forever lose my own hair strands.

This time, I had better luck removing my clothes. They tore only slightly, near-invisible fissures webbing across the delicate seafoam gauze of my sleeves and along the waistband of my pants. I had little doubt Alice would be disposing of these clothes as well, so I didn't mourn the micro-fractures. Instead, I used it as practice so that I later wouldn't tear my new outfit.

After tossing them into the hamper I chose to take a shower, rather than a bath, and lingered under the firm spray of water, the lukewarm setting comfortably hot against my ice-cold skin. The memory of stiff muscles relaxing under hot water was fleeting and insubstantial, but all the same, the idea made me feel a little less macabre and a little more human. But successfully twisting the showerhead nozzle was not the end of learning to maintain a gentle grip. The clear plastic bottles of shampoo and bodywash were extremely fragile in my hands. It was something to focus on, but my mind was so incredibly spacious that even that was hardly a distraction.

This was the first time I'd been allowed to be on my own for any length of time. And while I was grateful, I couldn't help but miss my family's unfailing companionship. Even if it was for the purpose of keeping me and those around me safe, I still longed for it. It kept me grounded and focused. It made me feel safe.

I tried not to linger on the reason for that, but escaping my own mind now, when I could maintain multiple lines of thought, was impossible. And the truth was, I didn't want to know. I didn't want to remember what I had endured at the hands of Serena. I didn't even want to know what my family had done to her. There was no doubt in my mind she was dead. They would not stand for anything less.

That should've been enough.

I wished it was enough.

I applied a liberal handful of conditioner, knowing it would do nothing for the texture of my hair, but using it to ease apart the tangles and knots. It swiftly rinsed out, sliding off of the wire-like strands easily. I stayed under the sharp spray for a while after, water crashing against me like draping velvet. My skin never softened or wrinkled. I could've remained there for hours without change, but I knew that if I stayed alone for much longer, I would spiral.

Donning my undergarments after drying off was the most challenging part of getting dressed, the thin silk in danger of tearing at a mere glance from me, but once I was successful in that, the rest came easy. Today, Alice had chosen a dusty-rose long-sleeve shirt with matching gloves, dark against my ghost-like complexion, and over it, a corduroy pinafore dress in a shade of creamy white. The matching, close-toed wedges slipped on the easiest.

Afterwards, I used the same metal comb from yesterday to gently brush my damp hair straight.

My fresh appearance was startling. Despite the fearsome red eyes and the unnatural beauty now draping my features, the simple dress served to emphasize my youth and it was with a sad realization that I recalled: Physically, I would never age past seventeen. I would forever be stuck between childhood and adulthood; not quite a girl, but never fully a woman. I wore the cold skin of a dead girl whose life had been snatched away long before the venom had seared away her humanity; a new and more permanent grave for me to rest in.

I gently set the comb down and breathed out.

It was too late for Bella. It had been for many months now. But it wasn't too late for me. The cards had been dealt and how I chose to play them was ultimately up to me. Eternity stretched out before me. The sky was the limit, and then some.

And besides, I wasn't merely living for myself. I had Edward, and my family, and Leah―they were my eternity.

The corpse-pale girl in the mirror smiled, a brief, but soft expression that cemented my resolve.

At last, I exited the bathroom and flitted down the hall to Edward's bedroom, only to find it empty. Listening closely, I detected the presence of Alice and Carlisle still in the house, along with a pair of sleeping babies. I was a little taken aback by the lack of supervision. It was only my second day as a newborn and I was―how had Leah phrased it?

Twenty pounds of nightmare in a five pound corpse.

Scarily accurate in the way that only Leah could convey. But I hoped the first day would remain the worst. Esme's brief presence had done wonders for my attitude, and if it weren't for the flames continuously ravaging my throat, or a murderous temper I was still learning to keep in check, I wouldn't need constant handling. After all, it wasn't as though I was looking to cause trouble.

I glided back down to the second floor and sought Carlisle. He was in the same position he'd been in all night, still flipping through various notebooks, face pensive.

"Carlisle," I greeted him, pausing just under the archway. "Where is Edward?"

"Isabella," he said, glancing up, eyes tight. "Please, come in." He offered me a warm, if delayed, smile and gestured towards one of the chairs situated across his desk. "Edward is out running an errand for me."

I narrowed my eyes at the vague answer. "He's not breaking into any morgues, is he?"

"Ah, no," Carlisle assured me, swiftly shutting any open composition notebooks across his desk. "We've left that task up to Jasper."

I nodded, but didn't share my relief. It wasn't necessarily fair that it was Jasper who had to find my corpse duplicate, but under no circumstances did I want that for Edward. He'd suffered enough.

I breezed in and took a cautious seat at the edge of the chair across from him. "What is he doing then?"

"He's driven out of town," Carlisle explained delicately. "There are certain supplies we require."

I arched an eyebrow. "To falsify my death?"

"Yes." He appeared a little exasperated by my prodding.

"I know I told Jasper I wasn't interested in the details, and I'm not," I assured him. "But I can handle it if I have to."

"But you don't," Carlisle said firmly. "We want you to focus on you, Isabella. You're in the midst of a difficult transition. You needn't worry about anything or anyone else."

"I appreciate that," I said honestly. "My first transition…waking up as Bella Swan…wasn't easy. I was on my own and I thought I was losing it. I'm glad I'm not alone anymore."

Carlisle reached across the desk and offered me an open hand. "And as part of this family, you never will be."

I slowly placed my palm against his and he gently wrapped his fingers around mine, the pink of my gloved hand dwarfed in his.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I once promised that we would never abandon you," he said. "That still stands."

The memory was obscure, clouded, but I remembered―the glow of a car dash, headlights illuminating a black highway, Carlisle's warm voice, his kind words.

"I know," I said with a fond smile. "Thank you, Carlisle."

His expression lit up. "You recall?"

"Bits and pieces," I said. "It's harder to remember everything through human eyes, but my journals help, and reminders as well. It's like, I don't know what to look for, unless someone points me in the right direction? If that makes sense."

"It makes perfect sense," he said, sounding strangely relieved. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Isabella. I was terribly worried that that wouldn't be the case. Focal retrograde amnesia is fairly common amongst those who have been newly turned, but you…there was clear trauma to your head when we found you. And that, along with all the emotional duress you were under and the many drugs pumped into your system, it could have been any combination of post-traumatic, dissociative, and drug-induced amnesia. But if we are now able to reactivate your dormant memories then I no longer fear it is a permanent thing."

I frowned thoughtfully. "But if I wanted to, I could choose to forget?"

Carlisle didn't appear surprised by my question. "Yes," he answered. "Whichever memories you hold onto will stay with you. The rest will ultimately remain forgotten."

"That's good," I decided and before he could ask me anything of it, I took my hand back and carefully arranged my forearms against the armrests. "What are you working on then?" I curiously eyed the array of notebooks. Despite their relatively new appearance, many of the time intervals penned across the covers were comprised of dates spanning the 1900s. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"

"My shift is not for another few hours," Carlisle said, expression unexpectedly shifting into something dark and grim. "As for these…I had hoped to wait a little longer before broaching this topic of discussion with you."

I stared at him. "Why? What is it?"

"Jasper recovered these," he said, making a sweeping gesture over the length of his desk. "They encompass the entirety of Serena's research into hybrid conception."

I became a statue, eyes locked onto the well-kept notebooks.

"You read these?"

Anger warred against revulsion, a storm of grief convulsing in my chest. The armrests of my chair shuddered and cracked under my grip, splintering into pointed shards of wood. I flew to my feet, chair colliding thunderously against the hardwood floors.

"How could you?" I demanded, venom thickly coating my eyes, stinging like fire.

Somewhere down the hall, a child cried.

Carlisle sat frozen, gaze brimming with both apprehension and remorse. "Because we knew nothing of what she'd done to you," he said, cautiously pushing himself to his feet. "Because we knew nothing of the victims before you."

With slow, fluid steps, Carlisle walked around his desk and approached me. "Because you and every other girl who was taken deserves to be acknowledged," he said, voice softly pained. "I am so sorry, Isabella."

My legs remained stable beneath me, solid and unshaking. But I was on the verge of collapse. My dead heart hung like a sinking boulder and my lungs shrunk smaller and smaller as everything inside of me asphyxiated, crumbling like stone. Sorrow unfolded into a gaping chasm, threatening to swallow me in its crushing depths.

And so, when Carlisle took me by the arms, all I could do was fall, hollow bones weighed down, burdened by grief. He caught me and held me as a wretched sob built in the back of my throat, more agonizing than the scorching fire that cut as sharp as serrated knives.

"I have you," Carlisle murmured, holding me in a firm, but gentle embrace. "I have you."

I clung to him, shoulders heaving from the force of my tearless sobbing.

"It's not fair," I cried like a child. "It's not fair."

"I know."

I had no clear memories of my time with Serena. But I didn't need them.

I didn't need them to recognize the ringing absence inside of me; didn't need them to know that she had taken from me far more than I could give.

And now, those pieces of me would always be missing. I was frozen; never decaying, never changing; a half-constructed monolith left to drift in the shadow of humanity.

In the end, all I could do was allow the black veil to settle; to drape heavily over hazy memories that lingered. Carlisle had said that I could choose to forget and so I would. Because she didn't deserve to be remembered; she didn't deserve a single trace of recognition. I wouldn't allow her face to haunt me for the rest of eternity. I wouldn't.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. But Carlisle didn't complain and I never tired. He simply held me for as long as I needed him to.

"When will Edward be home?" I asked sometime later, feeling strangely bereft.

"He went a ways off, but he should return before any of the others," he assured me, loosening his hold.

Reluctantly, I stepped back. "Can I wait for him in Esme's study?"

"You are more than welcomed to, my dear," he said, squeezing my shoulders softly before allowing his hands to drop. "Is there anything else you need?"

I shook my head. "No. But thank you."

"Come," he said and guided me back in the direction of Esme's study. "I believe she meant to show you this last night."

"What is it?"

I had intended to sit on her sofa and simply watch the rain until Edward returned home. The emotional turmoil had drained me of all mental energy. But instead, we crossed the small room to one of Esme's desks where Carlisle sifted through her large sketchbooks until he found what he was looking for.

"Take a look at this," he said, smoothing out one of the pages.

I studied the neat drawing. The design was for a single room that took up two stories of space, with a soaring roof made of glass. The second story was a loft area, only half the size of the first floor, lined by an ornate railing, a twirling staircase attached on one end. And directly underneath the loft was a sprawling bay window framed on either side by bookshelves built into the walls. Numbers dictating the square footage of the room were listed neatly in the margins.

"This will be your room in Calgary," Carlisle said.

I gaped. "All this? For me?"

"Of course," Carlisle smiled. "The house is purely Esme's design, rather than a restoration, so it will be much larger than this one."

He turned back to the cluttered desk and unearthed a pile of catalogs. "Browse through these," he instructed. "Esme will wish to know what sort of furniture you favor."

"I…thank you," I mumbled, receiving the stack from him.

"No need to thank me," he chuckled. "I'll be in the next room, if you need anything."

"Okay," I said, eyes still glued to the glossy pages.

Carlisle flitted out of the room and I moved to sit on the loveseat, spreading the different furniture catalogs across the cushion beside me.

I flipped through them carefully, but quickly. Within seconds I had viewed every option and was able to recall each one with perfect clarity. And that's when the real work began. The bedroom Esme had designed for me was a vast one, with plenty of space to furnish and decorate. I debated with myself, comparing different furniture styles and colors, flipping through the paint swatches and wallpaper samples on one of Esme's desks, unearthing her home decor catalogs and perusing those as well.

Carlisle's quest to keep me distracted worked so flawlessly, that by the time Edward returned my melancholy had been set aside in favor of assembling various design concepts to present to Esme when she returned.

"Isabella?"

In a flash, I lifted my head and met Edward's concerned gaze from where I sat cross-legged on the floor, catalogs piled around me.

"I can't decide," I admitted. "Should I go for hardwood or carpet?"

He stared at me, bewildered, and then eyed the flooring samples spread haphazardly before me.

"Why not both?"

I smiled. "You're a genius."

Edward's mouth curled into a crooked grin and he gracefully stepped around the mess I'd made, dropping to sit at my side.

"What are you working on?"

"I'm trying to decide how to decorate my new room. Carlisle showed me the bedroom Esme designed for me at the new house," I explained, reaching over and pulling the open sketchbook to my lap. "What do you think?"

Edward looked over the drawing with a hum of approval. "She always does exceptional work," he said with a fond smile. "What have you decided so far?"

"I prefer summer colors, so I'm leaning towards something light and warm for flooring; maybe white ash or soft maple," I said, holding up a few of the hardwood samples I'd picked out. "I'll probably do carpet for the loft. And for color―" I leaned across him and snatched up a paint swatch. "―turquoise blue! It's my favorite!"

"I recall," Edward laughed softly, plucking the swatch from my hand. "What else?"

I chattered excitedly, flipping back open a few catalogs and showing him everything that had caught my interest. He listened attentively, occasionally inserting his own thoughts, but mostly allowing me to keep the reins of the conversation.

"And this is for the loft?" he asked, holding up the wallpaper samples I had been debating between.

"Yes, I want something special for it." At the moment, I couldn't decide between cascading flowers or opal clouds. "Maybe neither. Maybe Alice could paint me a wall mural instead."

"Hmm yes," Edward agreed distractedly, still comparing the samples in hand.

I observed him with an affectionate smile. His brow was furrowed in concentration, hair tumbling messily across his forehead, lips pursed in thought.

My new mind allowed me to maintain multiple thought processes. The loudest one cried for blood. Always.

But the rest remained enamored with the boy at my side, wrapping around him, desperately recalling what little I could remember of our time together. Matching his memories with my human ones was hard, but not impossible. And the realization that I loved him in the exact same way that he loved me was not difficult to realize. I was incredibly lucky to have him.

At last, he decided, "I think I prefer the flowers. There's plenty more variety there and Esme can show you a lot more than what she has here."

"I love you."

Edward startled, dropping the samples, eyes shooting in my direction.

"I love you," I repeated, reaching up and carding my hand through his untidy hair, gloved fingers trailing down to curve around his cheek. "I don't remember if I ever told you that. I must have."

Edward's memories determined it to be true. But this memory remained particularly elusive to me.

"You have," he promised me, resting his hand over mine, trapping it there. "I love you too, Isabella."

"I know," I said, smiling so widely I feared my cheeks would crack. "I saw it."

"Your abilities," he recalled fondly. "How does that work exactly?"

Our hands dropped to my lap, mine still trapped in his.

"It's like reading a book," I explained. "As soon as I touched you with my hand, the words of your life became visible. I read every single one. I know you from beginning to end."

My final words abruptly stole the light from his eyes.

"Oh," he said, expression strangely subdued. "So you know about…?"

It didn't take me long to catch his meaning.

I squeezed his hand. "Yes," I said. "I know about that too."

"I assumed you always knew," Edward confessed. "But you never once brought it up."

I shrugged. "I can't imagine why I would," I said. "It's not my past to freely discuss. And even now, I don't fault you for it. Especially now."

Perhaps if he'd encountered Serena during his years of rebellion, she'd have been dead long ago.

The vulnerability in Edward's gaze burned straight into my still heart. "I'm sorry I never told you."

"You don't have to be sorry," I said. "Those monsters got exactly what they deserved. I just wish you hadn't had to suffer for it."

His expression remained grim, but I didn't know what more could be said. To me it was as plain and simple as that. Then again, I couldn't actually speak from experience. No matter how many books I'd read, I would never be able to truly understand the emotional turmoil Edward had endured.

When it was apparent he had nothing more to say to that end, I asked, "Can we go outside?" I hadn't dared to venture out on my own. Jasper's caution would be for naught if I recklessly went out unsupervised, but Alice was busy and I hadn't wanted to bother Carlisle anymore than I already had.

Besides, Edward clearly needed a distraction.

"Anything you'd like," he assured me sweetly, the distress easing from his face. He flitted to his feet and needlessly offered me a hand.

I accepted it regardless, flying to my feet as though I were weightless.

"Let's clean up before Esme sees this," I said sheepishly, looking around at the mess I'd made.

"She will be delighted to know you have made yourself at home," Edward said with a wink.

Nonetheless, we swept through the room, returning every sample, catalog, and sketchbook to its designated place within seconds. Having perfect memory recall came in handy during such moments.

Afterwards, Edward unlatched one of the glass panes and opened it long enough to allow us access into the second story balcony. The rain had calmed once more, but the skies remained endlessly gray, cool gusts of wind whispering against my ears and playfully whipping my hair back, bringing with it the scents of sweet vegetation and rich petrichor.

"How far can we go?" I asked, leaning forward against the railing, observing the eternal sea of evergreens and its pastel backdrop of mountain ranges.

"Best not to wander further than the river," Edward admitted. "At least until the others return home."

I heaved an unnecessary sigh. "River it is."

Without warning, I launched myself over the railing, the wind stealing my laughter as I flew across the expanse of grass until I landed lightly on my feet and dashed the remaining distance to the river's edge.

"You cheated," Edward complained once he reached my side a fraction of a second later

I grinned. "I didn't know it was a race."

"Uh huh," he agreed unconvincingly. "I'm positively sure you didn't."

I shot him a wink and twirled around to walk alongside the river, practicing my human pace once more. Which felt ridiculous. But it was either this or loping across the same strip of land like a hamster in a running wheel.

Edward fell into step beside me, following my lead.

"I know it's frustrating," he said. "But you understand why we're doing this."

"I do," I said. "I didn't realize I would feel so caged in. But I keep reminding myself that this is only temporary."

We fell quiet after that and the rush of water currents at my side flooded my ears, a roar that drowned out every other wildlife sound. And with it came a strange sense of caution.

I did not truly fear the water. Why should I? I was indestructible. I didn't need to breathe, let alone fear drowning. But still, the feeling persisted. It warned me away; told me to steer clear of the rushing currents, as though they posed a danger.

"This is where I drowned once," I said, recalling Edward's memory and what I'd jotted down in my journal.

His voice was pained when he answered, "It is."

"I can barely remember it," I admitted. "I'm glad for that."

"As am I," he said with no small amount of relief.

I shot him a smile and then turned to launch myself up, swiftly gaining altitude and soaring far above the ocean of treetops. I observed every quaking branch as I gently floated down and chose a sturdy spruce to land on.

Edward joined me a second later.

"Walking so slow is maddening," I explained as I moved to sit down. "I don't know how you do it."

Edward mirrored my movements. "We'll go hunting again tonight," he decided.

"I'd like that," I said with a grimace, touching my throat as though I could smother the caustic flames slicing through my trachea like white-hot shrapnel. It was constant; never-ending; only growing hotter the longer I went without blood. "I hunted yesterday but I already feel desperately thirsty."

"It comes with the territory of being a newborn," Edward reminded me. "Perhaps you will get lucky and chance upon another mountain lion."

"Hmm, perhaps I'll get lucky and you won't fight me for it," I teased.

"I could never," he chuckled. "Besides, Emmett will in all likelihood make you try something new."

"As long as it's not deer," I said with a petulant scowl.

"That, I'm afraid, is unavoidable," Edward lamented. "But it does the job."

"Hmph."

"Look on the bright side," he teased me. "We can have a real race this time."

I huffed out an unexpected laugh. "You just want to win, you sore loser!"

Edward shrugged, expression unapologetic.

"Unbelievable," I said, still laughing.

Suddenly, his smug expression morphed into a grimace and I looked to him in question.

"They're back," he explained. "Rosalie wishes to speak with you."

The blistering anger from last night reignited forcefully, magma churning through my chest, as intense as the first moment I'd felt it.

I locked my muscles in place. No matter how angry she'd made me, I refused to hurt her. I wouldn't do it. Not again.

"What does she want?" I asked curtly.

"She wants to make her position in all this clear," he sighed. "And she refuses to wait any longer."

I frowned.

"I can speak for myself perfectly well, Edward," Rosalie cut in, appearing at the base of our tree.

I gazed down at her through the gaps of swaying leaves and branches, a small speck far below. Her stance was determined, but she remained on the ground, waiting.

"Isabella?"

I lifted my eyes back towards Edward. "I don't mind," I told him. Although part of me didn't want to acknowledge the situation at hand, I also knew that that wasn't fair to Rosalie. She had taken over caring for my children when I was unable to. Whether she had done it for selfish reasons or not didn't matter. She still deserved my thanks.

"I'll remain nearby," Edward assured me, briefly squeezing my hand. He then vaulted down with a graceful twist of his body, quietly landing on the ground below and darting off into the surrounding forests.

Rosalie leaped up, smoothly taking his place at my side.

"Isabella," she greeted me kindly. "How are you feeling today?"

"Just peachy," I said blandly.

"You're still angry with me," she said. "I don't understand."

I scowled, fingers curling around the tree branch, causing strips of bark to shatter and splinter off. "Never speak to Edward like that again," I snarled, recalling her words from last night with frigid clarity. "It was my decision to not tell him about the hybrids."

"I see." Rosalie sounded hurt, but I could hardly find it in myself to care when I was so focused on not falling back to my baser instincts. I refused to attack her the same way I had Leah. She didn't deserve that, no matter how infuriating she could be. "I am sorry, Isabella. You have always had a more realistic view of motherhood than me. And we only have an idea of what that vile girl put you through. You―none of those poor girls deserved that. I am sorry we couldn't protect you."

My grip relaxed and I breathed. "I know," I said. "Thank you, Rosalie."

"About the children―"

"Don't worry," I assured her sadly. "I won't interfere."

Rosalie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I know this is your dream," I said. "And I'm hardly in a state to be much of a mother. I'm not even sure if I'll ever be ready for it. So, you don't have to worry about me interfering."

Her voice was flat when she asked, "Is that the impression I gave you?"

I turned to look at her. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Isabella," she began tersely, "Lillianne and Vivianno may be children, but they are far more intelligent than that. They already know who their mother is."

I stared at her.

"And even if they didn't, I wouldn't openly steal them away from you," she said in a cutting voice. "I may be a lot of things Isabella, but a child thief is not one of them."

When I didn't, couldn't, say anything, she huffed a small sigh. "But obviously, I am more than willing to care for them," she continued. "Until you are ready."

"Ready?" Though I could hear the chiming sound of my voice perfectly well, it felt foreign, distant.

"I know it feels impossible now," she said. "I know it all too well. But you will learn control. In a few months, a year at most, none of this will feel so all-consuming. You will grow accustomed, your strength will wane, your hunger will temper, and you will feel a little bit more like your old self."

I couldn't respond, mouth welded shut.

"Like Edward said, I wanted to make my place in all this clear to you," she reaffirmed quietly. "I'll see you back at home."

With that, she launched herself back down to the forest floor, landing with an elegant stride and vanishing back in the direction of the house.

I didn't have to wait long for Edward to return and reclaim his place at my side.

"You're still upset," he noted sadly. "What is it?"

It took me a long time to unglue my lips.

"You heard Rosalie," I said, expecting for my voice to catch. But it sounded as clear as ever, a glistening bell. "She'll only take care of them until my newborn period ends."

Unexpectedly, Edward smiled. "I know it's not an easy choice to make, love," he said. "But remember, you don't have to choose motherhood at all. Rosalie will always be willing to remain a surrogate."

I frowned. "Then why would she…?"

"Because," he explained, without needing me to elaborate, "Rosalie wants to keep your options open. The children already know who their birth mother is, but as a newborn vampire you need to maintain a modicum of distance for the next year. It's as justifiable a reason as any; one that gives you time to consider the matter further."

"And why couldn't she have said that?"

"It's Rosalie," Edward said, as though it should've been obvious. "She's never one to offer the easy way out."

"No," I agreed dejectedly. "Of course not."

I had assumed that the choice had already been made for me. And maybe I should've been relieved it wasn't.

But in reality, all I felt was a cold apprehension, a heaviness in my chest.

"Come," he said, turning to leap back down. "Leah will be here soon."

"Leah?" I repeated, springing after him. "She's coming today?"

We bounded through the forest in a swift and easy run. "Yes, she called and said she would come over after school."

"I hope she's not too angry with me," I sighed as we launched back out into the open field and towards the house.

Soon, we arrived and entered through the glass doors of the first floor where Jasper, Alice, and Emmett were already gathered. Upstairs, I could hear Rosalie moving about in her room. With a start, I realized she was…feeding them.

The children were being fed blood. Human blood to be exact.

Sharp, red-hot knives pierced the muscles of my throat and raked down in explosive agony.

It would be so easy to go upstairs and take it from her. So easy to have a taste. Much easier than escaping a house full of vampires and slaughtering the nearby town. Would it taste as luscious as Edward remembered it to be? I tried to imagine it―devouring a gory mouthful of sweet, sweet blood―

Hands gripped me firmly on either side, Edward and Jasper caging me less than a second after the thought had crossed my mind.

"Isabella," Alice admonished. "Leah will be here in exactly one minute. She will not be happy if she arrives to find you drowning yourself in blood bags."

I swallowed reflexively, venom sliding down my dry, aching throat. "Sorry."

Not that it made it any less tempting. But the reminder of Leah's imminent arrival helped to clear the fog of bloodlust. I very pointedly ignored the gnawing hunger that burned and throbbed, demanding blood.

"Now that'd be a sight," Emmett snorted, cheerful as ever.

"Indeed," Edward agreed tersely, both he and Jasper releasing me but keeping close. "Alice, do you have the mask?"

"Of course," Alice sniffed, pulling out a piece of black fabric from the pocket of her dress. "What do you take me for?"

She then skipped forward and presented me with a facemask. "It's not foolproof," she said. "You'll still be able to smell her, but my scent will provide a bit of a barrier. I hope you find this helpful."

"Thank you, Alice," I said with a smile and accepted the mask, carefully stretching it open and hooking the loops behind my ears, Alice's sweet floral smell engulfing my nostrils. "All good now?"

"Remember, Iz," Emmett wagged his finger at me, "Leah is a friend, not doggy kibble. So keep your teeth to yourself."

"Very funny, Em," Jasper said dryly and guided me over to sit on the couch. "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

"You need to start learning how to think things through."

"Crystal," I assured him as Edward joined me on my other side. "Any other advice?"

"Try to breathe as little as possible," Alice chimed and ran off, calling, "She's here!"

Emmett parked himself on the staircase, likely remaining a deterrent to keep me from the bags of human blood stored upstairs.

Outside, I heard the shudder and rumble of a car parking out front. The accompanying sound of a beating heart was less inviting for once. I recalled all too vividly the rancid smell of wolf blood.

"Leah!" Alice called out, standing at the threshold of the front door. "Thank you for calling ahead of time."

"Yeah, well, lesson learned, remember?" Leah scoffed as she approached, voice a guttural contrast to Alice's bell-like ring. "Where's my favorite tick-for-brains at?"

"In here," Alice said, gesturing for her to enter.

This time, I was prepared, lungs full of clean air, breath held, and the recollection of her less-than-appetizing blood to keep me in place. The memory of her was a mirage―a hazy shadow of a tall, slim girl with long, glossy, dark hair and even darker eyes. But the Leah that entered the house was no different from yesterday―feathered layers of hair fluttering against her jawline, lethal muscles rippling under dark bronze skin, tall as a mountain and just as strong. Lead by Alice, she crossed the open room, approaching me with all the caution of a bulldozer, gaze unflinching and stride confident.

She then paused before the living area, resting her hands on her hips and eyeing me keenly. Alice ducked around her, moving to perch on the couch adjacent to us.

And to my shock, Leah said, "Sorry I barged in on you yesterday. Are you okay?"

"…I'm fine," I said, a belated response. "You're not still angry with me?"

Leah snorted and moved to sit on the couch opposite of me, throwing herself back without a care and sinking into the cushions. "I came back, didn't I? Besides, that one's on me. But if you try ripping my throat out again, I won't be so kind."

Behind my mask, my mouth split into an involuntary grin. "Understood."

Leah flashed me a toothy smile and then shifted on the couch, leaning forward and resting her forearms against her thighs. "I'm glad to see you're somewhat well," she said, a little more sober. "You put us through hell these past few weeks, Isabella. The fact that I'm relieved to see you in all your pasty-faced blood-deficient cannibalistic state should be telling."

"Thanks, I think," I said wryly. "It's good to see you too, Leah."

It was at this moment that I finally ran out of breath to speak. I locked my muscles in anticipation and inhaled slowly.

Immediately, her strong, musty odor slammed against Alice's sugary scent like a thick wall, coating my throat, pervading my airways, causing each olfactory nerve to flare up in alarm, a fierce warning of the danger she posed.

"You need to start learning how to think things through."

I carefully breathed around every predatory instinct that called for Leah's blood and said, "I'm glad you came today."

"You're the only one," Leah said with a grin. "How are you holding up? Drinking enough animal blood?"

"Truthfully, I could drink some more," I said, wrinkling my nose. "I'm always hungry now."

"Hah! You're telling me," Leah said. "I'm eating my parents out of house and home as we speak. Did'ya meet the little leeches yet? Those tiny monsters are practically gluttonous."

It hit me like a battering ram. If Renesmée could be imprinted on by Jacob, then so could Lillianne and Vivianno. But in this version, Jacob was not the wolf shifter. Leah was.

I stared at Leah. "Did you?"

But any ounce of devotion I sought was nonexistent in Leah's eyes. "Uh, yeah," she said, looking at me oddly. "One of the little suckers tried to bite me though, so I'll keep my distance if it's all the same to you. At least until they're house trained."

My sudden bout of laughter seemed to shock everyone, but I hardly cared. "Never change, Leah."

"Uh, thanks?" Her smile was pleased, if slightly confused.

Eventually though, my humor subsided and I gazed at her with apprehension as I recalled the reason why I wanted to speak with her in the first place.

"Tell me," I said. "What happened? Why did you shift so soon?"

Her expression darkened. "It was my choice."

My eyes widened with shock. "You chose to shift?"

"Of course I did," Leah said, as though it should have been obvious. "You were missing and everything was going to hell. I wasn't going to just sit by and maybe hope that this lot would find you. So, I shifted."

"But…now you're in Sam's pack," I said dejectedly.

"The hell I am. I fucking left," Leah declared with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "It wasn't easy, but if Jacob could do it in whatever messed up future you saw, then so can I."

I smiled widely in disbelief. "Only you, Leah."

"You got that right," Leah said with no small amount of confidence. "And tracking you down was a shit show. I only wish I could've killed that bitch myself."

The mention of Serena felt like whiplash, stealing all the air from the room. Everyone, with the exception of Leah, turned to me with troubled eyes, awaiting my reaction.

I kept my gaze on Leah. "Thank you, Leah. For helping to save me."

"Well now we're monster besties for life, so get used to it," Leah said rather flippantly, easing the tension in the room. "And what's this I hear about you having creepy seer abilities?"

"Oh, that," I said, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. "Basically, I can read you like a book―"

"Book-reader!" Emmett abruptly exclaimed, leaning forward against the stairway railing. "I like that! That's a way better name than whatever garbage Carlisle came up with."

"Huh? Carlisle?"

Beside me, Edward smirked. "Carlisle dubbed your gift 'tactile clairvoyance.' Emmett wasn't a fan."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't think 'book-reader' sounds any better. It makes me sound like a cheesy comic book supervillain."

Emmett snickered. "Don't worry, Iz. We'll work on it."

"Or," Leah added, smirking in my direction. "We could stick with 'fortune cookie.'"

"That's way cuter," Alice chirped.

"Fortune cookie?" Emmett repeated. "Nah, that sounds more like Alice. Besides, Isabella's gift doesn't allow her to know the future like before…does it?"

"No it doesn't," I assured them. "Though there are possibilities that remain unfulfilled, so we'll see."

"Hell yeah!"

"Emmett, no, we don't want that," Jasper huffed.

"Whatever," Emmett waved him off. "Speaking of abilities, what about your shield? Think you can keep my thoughts safe from Edward finally?"

All five of them turned to me expectantly.

Like riding a bicycle, the stretchiness of my rubber band was a familiar sensation. The act of pushing it out was practically instinctual, until I encompassed everyone in the room except for Edward.

"Well?" Emmett demanded.

Edward breathed an astonished laugh. "That is most impressive, love."

I beamed.

"Sweet," Emmett decided, launching himself over the railing. "We're taking this outside."

Always game, Leah was the first to jump up and follow. And though it wasn't easy, my hunger and predatory urges were an instinct that I could continue to keep under control as we all stood and headed outside, a little too willing to go along with yet another one of Emmett's schemes. For the moment, all was well.

---

A/N: Just one more chapter to go :)

And happy three year anniversary everyone! I can't believe a whole three years have passed since I first published this fic, but here we are, 200k+ words later! Thank you so much for all your support! Y'all are incredible! :)

Please accept this absurdly long chapter as my anniversary gift to you.

And as always, thank you for reading! Be sure to drop a review please! :3