At first, Bella had convinced herself she kept on calling Sue Clearwater to check on Charlie, to make sure he was eating his vegetables and treating Sue the way she deserved. But Sue never talked much on these calls, listening patiently as Bella poured her heart out, one difficult conversation at a time.

"You're strong," Sue repeated. "A strong little mother."

"I'm a mess." The truth still stung, even when she admitted it out loud. "What am I even doing, Sue?"

"You're learning how to live." Sue always said the same thing whenever Bella called in that first panicked month after Edward and his family left her. "To live free, knowing who you are and what you want."

The loneliness after they left was like a kind of death, and it was tearing her apart. Again. She was so tired of feeling broken.

"Death isn't exactly bad," Sue insisted. "It's part of living."

Bella had clung to her words like a lifeline. The death of that part of her, and the loneliness that followed, taught Bella about her own strength. She could survive. She would survive. For her baby and for herself.

"Your pup is a gift," Sue reminded her gently. "And a mercy. You've been spared a terrible fate."

"I'm alone."

"But you're alive," Sue had insisted fiercely. It was the same hostile tone all Quileute had when they thought of the cold ones. "Your spirit flies free, Bella Swan."

"Why does it hurt so much?"

"Learning to live with yourself means seeing your faults. Mirrors are painful. Many would rather be blind."

"I think I'm still blind." Bella had almost laughed. "Like a bat."

"Knowing nothing is better than thinking you know everything." Sue chuckled. "Humility will help you see things as they are, little mother."

"What about Jacob?"

"Jacob will find his own way," Sue's voice was always stern and certain when she spoke about Jacob Black. She knew the paths of her people, of her history. Jacob was the grandson of their last chief and such responsibility is an honor and a burden. She also knew no person could be forced to walk any path but their own. "Feeling lost is not the same as being lost, little mother. You will find your path too."

Bella had sat with Sue's words for days, the loneliness eating at her, peeling away layer after layer of herself she didn't recognize. She couldn't stay. She couldn't go back to Forks. She did feel lost, but she couldn't pretend anymore. So she lived alone with herself for almost two months, eating when she was hungry, sleeping when she was tired, until she found her own strength to decide what she wanted next. The answer had surprised her.

"Bella?" Renée had been stunned and confused, when her daughter turned up on her doorstep on a cloudy afternoon in late December. By then, Bella's stomach had grown enough to draw attention if a person cared to notice. That day, she learned Renée had always noticed her, even if she didn't know how to show it. "Oh, my Bella."

Renée had pulled her into her arms and cried. She didn't ask questions. Those would come later. Having her mother hold her, crying, and tell her everything would be alright, unlocked some raw, hidden part of herself. Bella had cried and cried and cried. She cried for the scared selfish child she'd been, almost throwing herself away for the love of an immortal monster. She cried for that monster and his family who had loved her, in the best way they could, even if it wasn't enough. She cried for her baby who deserved so much more than the mess she'd made of her life. And she cried for her Jacob, wherever he was, and all the pain and anger he lived with that she could never erase.

Bella shivered suddenly as the wind whipped over the beach, the small fire sputtering, fighting to keep burning. She could feel fresh tears on her cheeks. She threw her stick into the fire, watching the volcano of sparks jump into the cool night air. She hated that her last memory of Jake was angry. Not her Jacob.

When he'd first shifted, his werewolf gene pulling him further into the world the Cullens inhabited, Jacob had been so angry all the time. It took time for her to see his fury for what it really was; anger edged in love and fear. He was angry because he couldn't tell her what he'd become without betraying his tribe; because he'd been forbidden by Sam, the pack Alpha, to go near her for her own safety; because he thought she wouldn't want any part of a monster like him; because he was afraid of what he'd become. In spite of all that, Jake had fought Sam's Alpha command, and found a loophole. He'd already told her the tribal legends, all she had to do was put the pieces together. And eventually she had.

"You're not a monster." She'd whispered, grabbing his hand, and lacing their fingers together. "You're good."

"I'm a giant fucking wolf," he said, his voice strained. He only swore like that when he was afraid and trying to hide it. She could hear the fear in his voice that day on First Beach. He'd been so afraid he'd loose himself, that he'd lose her, and it was so Jacob of him. "What if I'm not good enough?"

"You're still you." She insisted. Then she'd smiled, a real and whole smile, and the gaping icy emptiness in her chest shrank a little more. "Besides, I love dogs."

He gave her a flat look, "Calling us dogs is sort of an insult, Bells."

"Down, boy."

He'd laughed then, throwing his head back like he used to, the glorious sound mingling with the rush of waves and wind. "God, I love you."

Jacob had loved her like he lived; simply and without guile. It had been too short and almost too much. She wrapped her arms around her belly protectively and thought about how love had saved her in the end. Rosalie had saved her from immortality with her love of her own lost humanity. Sue had saved her from the all consuming worry, anxiety, and lies with her love of truth. Jacob had saved her simply by loving her, just as she was, even when she tore out his heart.

Jake.

Now she had to save herself, and her baby, by learning to live and love what was good for her, broken bits and all.