Author's Note: I split this chapter into two parts because it was clocking in at nearly 8k words. This is part 2, so make sure you didn't miss part 1!

Content warning: Brief mention of suicide. (Not at all detailed, but it is there, almost at the very end and in the footnotes)

- Chapter 10: The Unraveling, Part 2 -

Hours after I put Nessie to bed, I was still restless. Though the house was dark and still, it was the kind of silence that preceded a great storm, a wire strung so tight it might snap.

I'd tried reading, but the tension was too much and the book at my bedside too boring to hold my attention. So I sat rigid in my bed, pulling at loose threads in my quilt and deep in thought.

The crackle of energy in the air sent my imagination in wild directions. I pictured an elegant figure in fine silk night things, rose-gold hair unbound and shining down her back, sneaking down the hall, knocking softly on Edward's door—or worse, he slipping down to hers…

Abruptly, an unrelated thought derailed my rumination: Jacob's book. I had never gone back to the study to get it.

Anxiety rose in me; what if someone had gone up there to read before bed? I might not understand Edward's reasoning for hiding my suspicions about their nature from the cousins, but he'd been very clear that it was vital I not reveal anything.

I had to go retrieve it.

I pulled a robe over my nightgown and crept into the hall, careful to move as quietly as possible. I winced when the door to the servants' stairs creaked, but continued up, sticking close to the wall to avoid further sounds of protest from the ancient treads.

When I emerged in the third floor corridor before Edward's study, I froze; firelight showed through the crack under the door, orange and flickering. Someone was inside.

An image flashed across my mind—two lovers, twined in a secret embrace—

Without warning, the door flung open and I gasped aloud.

Then Edward was before me, looking strained and holding cold marble fingers to my lips to silence me.

Wide eyed, I sunk my teeth into my lower lip and nodded my understanding.

Edward pulled his hand away from my mouth and stood aside, holding the door open for me. I could see now he still wore his tuxedo, bowtie loose and the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair was mussed. He looked positively rakish.

I entered the study, which was blissfully empty—my imagination had run wild with me, of course.

But as I scanned the room, I spotted it. The tribe's book, out in the open on the ottoman before the dying fire.

I leapt forward to snatch it up, blushing furiously. I turned back to—I don't know, apologize? Explain?

Edward was closer than I realized, right behind me, and he covered my mouth again as I opened it to speak, shaking his head. Then he leaned in close, so close, his hair brushing my brow.

I had the giddy thought that he was going to kiss my neck—or bite it.

"Not here," he breathed, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

I shivered, feeling every hair on my body stand up straight, as though straining to get closer to him as he stepped back slightly. With a great effort, I dragged my half-closed lids open to look at him through my lashes.

Edward placed a hesitant hand between my shoulderblades and looked down at me with a question in his eyes, as though asking me for permission for something. I nodded unquestioningly—whatever he wanted, it didn't matter. I trusted him.

And then he was lifting me, one arm behind my knees and the other cradling my upper back, like a groom carrying his new bride over the threshold—though he was carrying me further into the room, not toward the door.

I could see the large bay window was open, and suddenly I understood: he was going to jump.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as my heart began to race. Instinctively, I threw my arms around his neck to clutch tightly, forgetting all about my still-sore shoulder.

As I bit back a cry, a memory appeared in my mind of how a vampire had reacted the last time I'd drawn blood that way. Antoinette's white hands pushing my head to the side, her red eyes, mad and rolling, the iron and salt taste of blood in my mouth—

I forced myself to let up on my lip before I broke the skin and opened my eyes.

We were already on the ground. Edward looked down at me, concern in his eyes warring with the tell-tale twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, so soft I barely heard it. I nodded. "Good. Close your eyes again."

I acquiesced, and instantly I felt wind whipping my loose hair back. I thought of all the time I'd spent brushing out the tangles and wished I'd braided it; now I'd have to brush it through all over again.

After a few moments, the wind slowed, and I tentatively peeked through my lashes. Edward was walking and we were deep in the forest, but as I turned my head I thought I could see we were approaching a clearing.

As the trees thinned, Edward set me gently on my feet. And in that moment, the clouds above us broke, bathing the clearing in silvery moonlight.

I gasped at the sight. Early spring wildflowers dotted the soft grass of a small meadow. Everything sparkled from the rainwater that clung to the moss and plants, reflecting the full moon above. I stepped forward out of the trees tentatively, awed. It could have been a faerie glen; I half-believed I'd spot Titania sleeping in the grass.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

I looked to Edward, expecting him to be beside me, but he hung back, lurking by the treeline.

"Sorry," I whispered, "am I still supposed to be quiet?"

"No, we're far enough from the house now," he said aloud. "They can't hear."

Suddenly reminded of Tanya, I felt the ugly acid of jealousy rising in my veins.

"So it's all right to be friendly with the help as long as nobody knows, is that right?" I said bitterly. All the jumbled feelings of anger and rejection and fear from the past week pushed forth. "I know we're from different worlds, Edward, but I didn't take you for a snob."

The muscles in his jaw tensed, catching the pale light from above as he clenched his teeth. "It's not like that."

Another non-answer. I couldn't take it any longer, the cryptic avoidance and push-pull of his attentions. That tight wire inside my chest gave way.

"Then you'd best explain it to me," I snapped, "because from where I'm standing, it certainly looks that way!"

He grabbed at his hair in desperation, as though he might pull it out by the roots. "You're infuriating," he said sharply.

"And you're melodramatic," I shot back. I crossed my arms over my chest and sat down on a fallen tree. I had no intentions of moving until I had all the answers. "Now talk."

Edward began to pace along the edge of the meadow. "You're right," he said. "I don't want any of them to know that I…that we're…friendly." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, then looked away quickly. "But not for the reason you think."

I'd never seen him so agitated and out of control, like a wild panther caught in a too-small cage. He opened his mouth to try to start again, then stopped himself, jaw working.

A strangled growl of frustration bubbled out of him and he threw is arms up. "This is impossible!" He slumped over to my log and sat on the opposite end, resting his head in his hand. "Rose was right," he said miserably. "I never should have brought you here."

The deep regret in his voice stung, but I couldn't afford to linger on it. I wanted answers, and this might be the best chance I was going to get. I inhaled deeply to push the hurt down and slid over closer to him.

"Well, regardless," I said, keeping my tone matter-of-fact, "I'm here now. So why don't we start with Nessie."

Edward nodded but made no move to remove his head from his hands, bent over his knees.

"Are you really related to her?"

"Yes," he said, voice muffled slightly by his arms. "But she's not my niece, or whatever it was Alice told you."

I nodded slowly, though he couldn't see me—that much I had guessed. "And you needed a…human to help care for her because your kind has trouble being close to us?"

Edward lifted his head then, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "You're perceptive," he said tightly.

I said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

He exhaled, then began.

"Yes," he said finally. "I knew taking her in would cause complications." He turned his gaze away from me, staring out into the trees. "For one, you're right—it is hard for most of us to be near humans without harming them." His fingers clenched in the bark of the log, breaking off chips, but his voice remained steady. "But besides that, the more time we spend with people, the harder it is to hide what we are."

I watched him closely as he spoke, taking in the subtle tightening at the corners of his eyes, the slight frown.

"To live alone with a human child…" He closed his eyes in pain, tipping his head back. "To care for her myself, it would have put her at great risk."

Unable to help myself, I reached for him, taking his closest hand in mine. "Edward, I may not know all the facts yet, but one thing I'm certain of is that you would never hurt Nessie."

"But that's the thing of it." He jerked his hand away from me to tug it through his already-messy hair again. "Even if I never laid a finger on her, I've put her in grave danger just by being close!"

The agony in his expression as our eyes met cut straight through me. "I don't understand," I admitted.

"What we are…we don't keep it a secret just because we want to." Edward's palm scrubbed over his face as he searched for the words. "There's a…kind of government, I suppose, or a royal court, and they have rules—one, really: never reveal your nature. Those that break it suffer great consequences." He shot me a guilty look. "And the humans unlucky enough to discover the truth…"

Suddenly, it clicked into place. The danger to Nessie—to me—didn't come from Edward alone. "Ah."

"So you see," Edward said softly, staring intensely into my eyes. "Why I should have kept you both at arms' length."

"And you think Carlisle's cousins will turn you in to this…government?"

"They wouldn't have to," he said grimly. "The Volturi—the ones that rule our kind—one of them can read every thought you've ever had with one touch. If someone thought you or Nessie knew the truth, all it would take is one encounter and you'd be dead."

My brow furrowed. "Then why invite them at all?" I asked, confused.

Edward's jaw twitched. "I didn't really have a choice," he said. "It's a bit complicated, but Eleazar used to be part of the Volturi guard. They heard about Nessie, and they asked him to look in on her. It seemed more prudent to set up a visit on our own terms."

"You've been putting on a show," I said, realization dawning. "To make it clear that you're taking all the right precautions."

"Precisely."

"So that's why you've had Mrs. Weber cooking all those massive meals!" I was both impressed and horrified at all the resources, all the effort that had gone into this one short visit. "What did you do with all that food, anyway?"

Edward let out a harsh exhale through his nose that might have been described as a snort. "Bella, I tell you you're in danger of being hunted down by a group of power-obsessed supernatural creatures and all you can think about is how we got rid of dinner?"

I blushed. "Well, it's a lot of food to waste," I said defensively.

He shook his head, and I felt a small hint of gratification at the rueful smile I'd elicited. "Jasper and Emmett take everything to a church in Port Angeles that feeds the out-of-work," he explained.

"Oh," I said, mollified. "Good."

The brief moment of levity seemed to have calmed Edward; his brow had relaxed some, and the frantic look in his eye had mostly faded. "So," he said, sizing me up. "You know we don't eat like you do. What else have you noticed?"

"Besides the strength, speed, and cold skin, you mean?"

Edward made to pull away from me, but I took his hand again gently, settling it into my lap and wrapping it in both of my own. I could tell some part of him expected me to recoil from what he was and I felt a deep desire to show him that I wasn't afraid.

"There's the eyes, of course," I said. "They change color, light gold to almost black." I cocked my head to the side. "I think that's to do with your…hunger," I hedged. "At least, you always seem crabbier when they're dark."

He laughed in earnest then, surprised. "Anything else?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Well," I began slowly, "this might sound…a bit mad."

Edward raised an eyebrow, and I had to suppress a giggle.

"All right, it all sounds a bit mad," I conceded. "But sometimes, it seems as though you know what people are thinking."

"Yes," he said simply, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I thought I was going to faint.

"Oh, no," I moaned, doubling over in shame.

"Not you!" Edward clarified hastily, squeezing my fingers that still held his hand trapped. "I've never been able to hear you."

A whimper of relief escaped me, and I sent up a little prayer of thanks to whatever deity or supernatural being was responsible for that particular miracle.

"Is that common for your kind?" I asked, still recovering from the scare.

Edward was looking down at our joined hands, rubbing his thumb along the edge of my forefinger. "Reading minds?" he asked. "Or not being able to hear someone?"

"Either. Both."

He shrugged. "I know of others with similar abilities—"

"Like the Vol…?"

"The Volturi, yes," he supplied. "But it's rare. As for exceptions to my gift…" Our eyes met again, and I felt a jolt at the intensity there. "I've only ever encountered the one."

"What does it mean?" I breathed. "I mean, why can't you read my mind?"

Edward gave me a rueful smile. "Bella, I don't know," he said. "Carlisle said it's just something in your makeup. You are, after all, a curious sort of bird, cast in a different mold to the majority. Nature did it."

"You're mixing metaphors," I mumbled, feeling numb. It was a lot to take in. I was worrying my lip again; I could see his gaze flick down to the point where my teeth was sunk into the skin. I forced myself to release it.

"So," Edward said, flipping my hand over to trace the lines, sending more shivers up my spine. "With all your observations, what have you concluded?"

He was preternaturally still, aside from the finger ghosting along the pathways of my palm. I could feel his nerves through our joined skin.

"You mean, about what you are?" I asked softly. He nodded. "Well, I've run through a few theories…"

"Such as?"

My cheeks started to warm again. "It's too embarrassing," I said.

"Give me one."

I pulled my hand away to rub at the back of my neck. "At first, the only thing I could think of…oh, this is so mortifying…" I could feel my face turning even redder and I ducked my head to hide the growing flush. "An angel," I mumbled under my breath, risking a glance up.

"An angel? Me?" He looked well and truly gobsmacked. "Whatever made you think that?"

"Well…you're so…" I waved my hand up and down at him, indicating his whole appearance. "You know, perfect." That maddeningly crooked smile of his was making an appearance—I was bound to be red as a ripe tomato by the end of this. "But then I decided an angel wouldn't be quite so surly."

Edward laughed again. "Fair enough."

"So I was stumped for a while," I continued. "Until…"

I'd stashed the book in my robe, tucked underneath the tie. I pulled it out then and held it out to Edward.

His face fell as he realized what it meant.

"So you read it, then," he said, defeated.

"Yes," I murmured. "But I'm still confused about some things." I was gaining momentum now, all the questions crashing back into my brain. "They call you the Cold Ones, which fits, and the description mostly matches. But you're not like any other vampire legend I've heard before."

Edward flinched hard at the word. "Except for the diet," he said darkly.

"Not you," I countered. "Or any of your family. I know you don't harm people."

He gave me a pained look. "We do our best," he said softly. "Carlisle discovered it when he was first changed, in the 16th century. He's never drank human blood. We survive on animals, but very few of our kind do the same. I think Tanya's family are the only others like us."

Compassion surged in me. "Isn't that hard for you?"

Edward shrugged. "You get used to it," he said. "But the…urge never goes away, and if we're not careful..."

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "So, that first day—"

He closed his eyes, gripping the bark again. The log creaked under his fingers, and he pulled his fingers back suddenly before it split. "It was…a very near thing," he admitted tightly. "I hesitated for just a moment because of Nessie, but it was Alice who really stopped me—she kept sending me images of Nessie and you, happy together."

"Does Nessie…appeal to you like that?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Edward's head whipped around to me, horror plain on his face. "No!" he said fervently. "No. Not like that."

He took a deep breath, calming himself.

"Her blood smells…about as appealing as any other human's, I suppose," he continued carefully. "That's easy for me to ignore—like I said, I've gotten used to it over the years. But you…" His eyes flicked to me, uneasy. "Nothing could have prepared me for the scent of your blood."

Shamed, Edward hung his head, unable to meet my eye.

I put my hand gently on his knee. "But you managed to resist," I pointed out.

He shrugged, dejected.

We were silent for a while. I looked up at the stars, for once visible. It really was a beautiful evening.

"Edward," I said as a thought popped into my head, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

I shot him a narrow look. "How long have you been 24?"

He gave me a small smirk. "A while."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't press. "And you said that Nessie is family?"

Edward winced, seeing where I was going. "She's…" He paused, wavering.

"She's my great-granddaughter," he said quietly.

The world stopped. I gaped at him. "You had a child?"

"Elizabeth." His voice was a gentle caress around the name, and a tender smile touched his lips. I registered with dull shock that I'd seen it before—when he looked at Nessie. "After my mother. We called her Lizzie."

He inhaled deeply, gathering his strength."She was not quite three when I was turned—in 1874." He glanced at me, gauging my reaction.

I kept my face impassive, but quickly did the math in my head. So he was 81? I felt dizzy.

Edward was still speaking. "New vampires have very little control over their thirst, so I couldn't go back for her. I would have killed her and everyone nearby." The pain in his voice was old, but sharp. "The vampire who changed me swore he'd arrange for her to be cared for, but he lied."

I had to swallow hard to be able to speak. "Did you ever see her again?"

"Yes," he said with a bittersweet smile. "I went looking for her soon after I met Carlisle, when I started feeding on animal blood. It was a little over a decade after I was turned, and I'd gained enough control over my thirst to be near humans."

I could picture it: Edward trembling in fear and excitement, hopeful that he might finally see his daughter again, afraid he might hurt her.

"It took me months to find her, but I did. She was just shy of 16, packed in with five other girls in an awful slum apartment in Chicago and eking out a living however she could." His eyes were closed, and I knew he was remembering.

"I told her I was her half-brother," Edward continued, "and that our father had just died and left her some property." He opened his eyes again, and they flashed dark and aching in the faint light of the moon. "She was…furious at him for abandoning her. At me, I mean, though she didn't know it. She'd had a very hard life in the years I'd been away. But even still, she was kind to the man she thought was her brother."

He paused, gouging out more splinters idly. I held my breath in hope that he would continue.

"The inheritance helped her some," Edward said finally. "I tried to keep an eye on her from afar. She left Chicago for the farm I gave her outside Philadelphia, married, had a son. Lived a comfortable life." He shrugged. "Then one day, Alice had a vision."

"She can see the future?" I blurted out, though I instantly regretted the interruption.

"Yes, but it's not perfect, the future is always shifting—anyway," he returned to the story, "in her vision, she saw Lizzie sick and dying alone."

My eyes widened in shock.

"I couldn't bear it," he said simply. "I owed it to her to be there, at least."

"So you went?" I asked. "Even though she'd met you before?"

"I pretended to be the son of the half-brother she'd met 30 years before," Edward said with an indifferent lift of the shoulder. "I figured she wouldn't remember my face perfectly after all that time."

"But she did," I said confidently. Nobody would be able to forget a face that perfect, I was sure.

He let out a small laugh. "Well, she did almost faint when she met me at the train station," he conceded. "But she seemed to accept the story. I told her that before my father died, he asked me to get to know her, to make sure she was well."

As Edward unraveled the whole tale, I was utterly enthralled. It was early 1918, at the tail end of the Great War. Lizzie was now nearly twice his age and a widow; her husband, who was much older, had died of a heart attack a few years before. Their son, Henry—Nessie's father, I realized with a jolt—was away at basic training after being called up for service.

"I met him briefly," Edward said, "before he shipped out—nice enough, but a bit of a dandy."

When he contacted Lizzie pretending to be the son of her half-brother, she invited him to stay for a while, so they could get to know one another and she could have some company.

"We built a friendship," he said fondly.

But the spring weather was getting too sunny for him to stay much longer—I filed the detail about the sun away, not wanting to stop him now that he was on a roll—so Edward told Lizzie he had to return to Chicago to handle some things with his father's estate.

"Alice said she'd get sick in the fall, and that I was with her in the vision now, at the end," he murmured sadly. "We tried making all kinds of plans, but no matter what, nothing seemed to change whether she survived."

It was the last desperate act of a loving father that drove Edward to return to Lizzie's home in Pennsylvania—where Edward had grown up—that October. Esme and Carlisle posed as Edward's sister and her doctor husband who'd gotten a job at the local hospital, both to give him sufficient cover for an extended stay in the area and ensure Lizzie would get the best possible care through her inevitable illness.

By the end of the month, Lizzie fell ill with the Spanish Flu, which was quickly sweeping through the countryside. And within days, she was deep in a fever dream, incoherent.

Edward sat with her day and night, never leaving her bedside. "I knew it was the end," he said. "I just…I had to tell her. Had to make sure she left the world knowing that I'd loved her, that I had never meant to abandon her." His voice was barely a whisper. "So I told her everything, just in case some part of her could still hear me."

He swallowed hard, and I suddenly wondered if vampires could cry. "The last night, I was sitting with her, and out of the blue, she opened her eyes and looked straight at me," he said. "It was the strangest thing, she was suddenly entirely lucid. She was beaming at me, and she said she knew I'd never wanted to leave her."

The last word that passed through her mind before she died, he said, was Father.

"Oh, Edward," I said thickly. Tears ran freely down my cheeks.

"So when I heard that Henry had killed himself, well…"

I dashed a hand over my face, wiping away the moisture. I hadn't known that Nessie's father had taken his own life, and I ached for her all over again. "You had to make sure she was cared for," I finished.

"I knew it would be safer to send her to a boarding school, but after Lizzie, I couldn't…I had to…"

I couldn't stand it—the anguish I saw in him, that I felt in him. I pushed my body closer to his, holding my arm out to embrace him.

Edward went utterly still but made no move to stop me. As I wrapped myself around him, his arms moved automatically, pulling me tight to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered after a moment.

"What for?" I asked into his shoulder.

"Everything."

We stayed that way for a moment, breathing each other. Finally, Edward pulled away, and I almost cried out at the physical sense of loss I felt.

He produced a handkerchief from his tuxedo jacket and gently dried the last of the tears on my cheeks.

"Forgive me," he said quietly. "I didn't intend to…"

I shook my head emphatically. "No, I'm glad you told me," I said, meaning it.

He shot me a small smile as he tucked the handkerchief away.

"Edward," I said quietly, "can I ask just one more question?"

He looked at me expectantly, so I pushed forward.

"What about…Lizzie's mother?"

The mask he wore when I asked something he didn't want to answer slid seamlessly over his beautiful features. "I think that's a story for another time," he said, looking out over the treetops at the sky. "We should get back—it'll be dawn in an hour or so."

I looked up, surprised—I hadn't realized we'd been out so long. I was suddenly aware of how cold I was and began to shiver.

"B-but I have so many more questions!" I protested through chattering teeth. "The Volturi—your family—Antoinette!"

"Another time," he repeated, shaking his head. "I promise."

Edward had me close my eyes again as he carried me back to the house. When I opened them again, we were on the roof outside my bedroom.

I shot Edward an accusing glare as he smoothly opened the locked window from the outside.

"Just once," he breathed against my ear, slightly defensive. "After we first met—testing my resolve after I hunted."

I felt a tremor pass through me—from fear, or delight? I couldn't be sure.

"Take tomorrow off," Edward whispered as he set me down, so soft I could barely hear him even with his lips touching my earlobe. "Sleep in."

I thought about putting up a fight, but I wasn't sure how to begin to do that without alerting the whole household that my employer was in my bedroom—and if I was honest, I would desperately need the sleep after the night I'd just had. So in the end, I just nodded and climbed into my bed as Edward disappeared into the black pre-dawn.

Author's Note: I've been DYING to get to this chapter! This conversation was one of the first things I detailed out when I was outlining and it feels SO GOOD to finally put it up. Can't wait to see what you all think of it!

I know we didn't cover all the mysteries (cough, cough, ANTOINETTE) and I added a few new ones into the mix—Lizzie's mother, who turned Edward and why, what's going on with the Volturi, etc. Hopefully I'm not pissing you off too much with all the unresolved questions; I know Bella's getting annoyed :P I tried to include more of it in the meadow scene but it was feeling very shoehorned in, so you'll have to wait just a bit longer. Honestly, this story is turning into a big exercise in tension and pacing and I'm not sure how well I'm managing it!

Anyway. See you back here next week for the aftermath of Edward and Bella's conversation!

Footnotes:

Titania is the Queen of the Fairies in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

I threw in a few references to Rochester quotes from chapter 14 of Jane Eyre in Edward's dialogue: "curious sort of bird," "cast in a different mold to the majority…Nature did it." Just cuz it's on my mind from starting my EPOV drabbles. :)

Edward is implying that his daughter Lizzie had to take on some rather unsavory jobs to survive in her youth. He's not saying she was a prostitute, but he's not NOT saying it.

I've changed Edward's birthplace to Philadelphia because Chicago was just kicking off in population in 1850, so it was just a little too early for his rather wealthy, high-society family to live there just yet. We'll get into how his daughter ended up in Chicago down the line.

Reminder that Nessie's mother died in childbirth; Alice mentioned it in the first chapter. I'm planning to go more into detail on her father in a companion piece from EPOV at some point, but it's not really relevant to the plot of this story so I don't feel bad telling you here: Henry Fisher made a lot of risky investments in the late 20s and the 1929 crash essentially cleaned him out of all the money Edward had left for Lizzie. He tried to stay afloat, but by late 1930, he was so in debt that the bank was coming for the house, land, everything, and he died by suicide, leaving Nessie an orphan with no home.