A/N: I can't believe this story has already surpassed sixty thousand words! This Chapter is around seven pages long.

→Side note, if you enjoy this you should check out the new story I posted entitled "The Love That You're Looking For"

Summary: Set 4 Years after Edward and the Cullens' departure in New Moon. Victoria never stopped when Edward left, and though the Wolf Pack managed to keep her safe, they never managed to completely eliminate the threat from the fiery-haired vampire, and now she's gone to the Volturi. Alice returns to Forks to find Bella and save their family. Will Bella leave the life she made with Jacob to save the very people who left her behind? And what is waiting for her if she goes?

Anyways, thanks for reading this, and please review :D

Chapter 14: Tattered Thread

Do you ever get a little bit tired of life? Like you're not really happy but you don't wanna die?

Like you're hanging by a thread but you gotta survive? Cause you gotta survive. . .

Like your body's in the room but you're not really there?

Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care?

Like you're fresh out of love but it's been in the air?

Am I past repair?

-Em Beihold, Numb Little Bug

Bella's POV

It seemed to take everything in me not to throw up in Esme's car on the way home. I felt that once my body realized it was sick, it accepted it, and now the usual resistance my body had, it had given up on. The denial I was holding onto so tightly slipped through my fingers and I couldn't fight that I was sick anymore. When we finally arrive I don't make it further than the couch.

I was already so tired. The headache and associated dizziness seemed to only make it worse.

Regardless of the way I currently feel, it feels wrong to have Esme doing so much for me. Currently, she was in the kitchen making me something to eat. She gave me a blanket to wrap myself in while taking the other throw to warm up in the dryer, such a motherly gesture.

It was a strange concept for me to accept, I can't remember the last time I had a parental figure take care of me like this. Sure Renee did when I was little, to an extent, but by the time I turned six I usually just hid it from her because her stressing out stressed me out. Charlie carried me to bed once Sam found me in the woods that day, but it didn't feel quite the same as how Esme was with me now.

Esme came in with the plate of plain toast in one hand and the warm blanket in her other. She sets the food on the coffee table in front of me and I try to hide the grimace I'm sure is on my face. But I know Carlisle and Esme are worried so I try to force at least one piece down. It's a slow process but I managed to eat one slice and not throw it up in the bucket Esme brought over for me (much to my embarrassment).

She pushes my hair out of my eyes, her cool hand resting on my overheated face. "Relax, Sweetheart. Try and sleep a little."

She didn't know how badly I wished I could, my nails pressing deep into my palms. My palms were covered in small, crescent-shaped marks from nightmares and panic attacks. Nightmares were one thing when I was home and only Charlie would hear them, Charlie who didn't hover. It was something else entirely in this house of vampires. I can't fight the exhaustion much longer, though, and decide to give in to what my body so desperately needs. "Could-" I stop short, not wanting to voice my wants out loud if she says no. How can I explain that I'm scared to close my eyes because of what I know will come all too soon, not could but would? The nightmares always come.

I feel weak from the sickness I've been (up until this point) refusing to let myself feel and I don't feel up to facing the nightmares if I'm left to myself. It may be childish and weak but I want Esme in a way I've never let myself want a mother figure before, mostly because Renee could never offer me what Esme always has. She was every bit of love and stability I wanted but never got from my immature, hair-brained mother.

"What is it, Bella? You know you can ask me anything." She pushes a lock of hair from my face, her hands cool against my overheated face.

I lick my dry lips, wincing as my tongue slips over small divots where my teeth had bitten through the skin. "Would you, um, stay with me? You don't have to." The exhaustion overcoming me was making me act irrationally, I know, yet there was nothing I wanted to do to stop it. I'd enjoy this while I have it. I want to be held by Esme.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be, Sweetheart. Why don't you put on something to watch." She smiles warmly at me and I can't help but smile back, no matter how badly I feel. While I turn on some random home design show I think Esme might enjoy, I curl into her side with my head on her shoulder. My body relaxes with a heavy sigh as I pull the soft afghan tighter around me, and I curl into her. To think I could have had a mother like Esme all my life. Esme is nothing but kindness and gentleness, and her arms around me are loving and strong. I could have had that. But I have it now. Maybe she'll keep the nightmares away.

I'm scared to close my eyes, not only because of the nightmares but the overwhelming dizziness. I fight it as long as I can, even though Esme hasn't left my side. I can feel my willpower breaking down as my body starts to relax. I'm so tired. She starts to softly hum, her fingers trailing through my hair and I don't want this moment to end.

"Go to sleep, Bella, I'll be here when you wake up."

Carlisle's POV

We do not remember days, we remember moments.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

-Cesare Pavese

I don't think I have ever been as ready to call it a day as I was at work today. Bella has been on my mind since Esme brought her in earlier. I hadn't heard from them, or Alice, since. Hopefully, this meant that Bella's fever hadn't spiked again. This poor girl can't seem to catch a break. I tried not to appear as worried as I truly am. Her health hasn't been the best since our return, her body has been pushed to its limit and it is starting to push back. My mind went back to the look in her eyes when she asked when we would leave again, it was heart-wrenching, so full of panic and fear. And now she has to deal with this sickness on top of everything else.

I had texted Esme when the results of the rapid flu test came back, insisting they go home rather than wait for the results. While I was thankful the results had come back negative, it left me with a growing worry that whatever was ailing her was worse.

The drive from the hospital back home takes much too long. I am inside the house before my car engine finishes turning off.

The sight inside the house is both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Esme and our youngest daughter are on the couch, Bella curled up asleep in her side. She's as pale as us.

"How is she?" I ask, loosening my tie as I walk towards them, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of them. I feel Bella's forehead, thankful it isn't as warm as it was this morning.

"She ate a little when we got home, just a piece of toast but she managed to keep it down. I got her to lie down for a few hours. Alice came home from school and Bella woke up for a while then. I made her some tea but she'd barely swallowed it before it came back up." She sighs, running her fingers through Bella's hair. "I just got her to sleep again but she's restless."

"Has her temperature spiked again?"

"Not that I've noticed, it's been consistently warm but it hasn't spiked, thankfully." I have to agree with her sentiment. "I hate seeing her suffering like this."

"I brought home some IV fluids if it gets too bad for her. Being dehydrated won't help her get better any faster."

"What do you think it could be?"

"Without the results of any of the labs I took at the hospital, my guess would be a type of walking pneumonia on top of her lingering exhaustion." I can see the worry evident in her eyes and I continue with the question I know is coming next, because it's exactly what I would ask if I didn't know. "Walking pneumonia is from the bacteria mycoplasma, and is most common in people under 40. It presents a lot like a cold, it just won't go away as quickly. She shouldn't need to be in the hospital, it's not as bad as regular pneumonia would be." I knew she was worried in her own right so I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn't let her know how worried I was about Bella's health.

Seeing something for practically hundreds of years is one thing, seeing this unknown, invisible killer attack our youngest daughter was something else entirely. The death rate from pneumonia in the US has had little improvement since antibiotics became widespread more than half a century ago. For US adults, pneumonia is the most common cause of hospital admissions other than women giving birth. About 1 million adults in the US seek care in a hospital due to pneumonia every year, and 50,000 die from this disease. We wouldn't let it get that far, obviously, but the fear was still there for me when I thought of Bella.

Bella groans softly, her eyes moving rapidly behind her closed lids. Her breathing was more labored than it had been in the hospital. I helped shift her to a more elevated position against Esme, hoping it would reduce her coughing and help her sleep longer, heaven knows she needs it (even before she became ill).

"How did no one see this before? How did she get this bad?"

The stress of the past few months has clearly taken its toll on her and this sickness is like the straw that broke the camel's back. The pain we will feel as she deals with her trauma is a sacrifice we have to make, the trauma that had been barely addressed before this, I feared it would send her back.

"I don't know," I sighed heavily with worry, all my years of medical knowledge suddenly feeling almost useless since we could do nothing but watch Bella suffer like this. "It wouldn't have gotten this bad out of nowhere, I have a feeling she must have been hiding it, but I don't know why she would do that."

"Alice said something earlier, I-" Esme pauses, having trouble saying the words.

I reach for her free hand. "About, what?"

She takes a shaky breath, looking back down at Bella in her arms. "She said that when we were gone. . . Charlie, he-" her eyes meet mine. "She said he mentioned having her committed. . . she was so scared that he would send her away that she buried everything and tried to pretend to be fine. . . That's why we think she's been hiding the fact that she's sick."

I sigh, seeing the small girl in my wife's arms for the brave soul she is, knowing this is just another way we've failed her. To an extent I can see why Charlie would be so worried, though we don't know exactly how bad it was when we first left, from her medical records today I saw that she had been treated for exposure shortly after we left, and I know that was only a fraction of what she went through, that Charlie saw anyways. He, Bella, and Alice told us of the nightmares she had been suffering, how they would come every night and torment her until she screamed herself awake. She had barely been eating, Charlie compared her at the time to a zombie. Of course he would, for your average human the loss was unimaginable. What Charlie didn't understand was that this wasn't something she could come out of the same way she was before, there is a finite number of stressors the mind, human or vampire, can cope with.

When her deep brown eyes finally open I notice the glassy sheen that seems to have blanketed them and realize that her fever has come back. It's not always easy to tell a fever has increased gradually, even with direct contact with her skin like Esme has with Bella curled up into her.

While I go to get the thermometer, I watch as Bella looks around, fighting through the haze in her mind before she notices she is still in her arms. Bella called out to her, her voice soft as her eyes closed again, "Mom."

We both pause, we would both love nothing more than for Bella to see us the way we see her, but her slip up was most likely because of the fever. "It's Esme, Sweetheart," she answers.

"Momma Esme."

Esme cupped her face in her hands and felt the warmth of her cheeks seep into her cold palms, "I'm here, Sweetheart."

"Don't leave." Her voice was small, much younger than her normal sound.

"I'm not going anywhere, Babygirl," Esme assures her.

"Don't go back to sleep just yet, Honey, I need to get your temperature and I want you to try and eat something." She groaned softly at my words and I couldn't help but smile, she would never have made such a conscious objection if she were completely coherent and not sick.

I take Esme's place when she gets up to get something for Bella to eat. "I have some chicken soup simmering on the stove."

"Thank you, Love, that should be mild enough on her stomach."

"I don't want to throw up again," Bella mumbles softly, and I drew her into the circle of my arms.

"It will be alright, Sweetheart," I promised her gently, and smoothed my hand down over the length of her hair. "How are you feeling?" I asked, removing my fingers from her wrist and gently touching her cheek, then her forehead.

"Fine."

I snorted, "Of course you are." I shook my head, feeling both worried and indulgent. The girl would be 'fine' if she was bleeding to death or dangling from a cliff. "I challenge you to answer without using the word 'fine'," I told her as her face reddened once more, though this time it wasn't due to her fever.

This time she shrugs, though it is obvious the gesture causes her pain, "I feel about the same."

I reached for the thermometer I had left on the coffee table and held it up for her. She placed it under her tongue and closed her lips around it, her cheeks warm with a blush.

It didn't take long for the timer to beep and I was disappointed her temperature was still over 101. I felt powerless to help her.

When Esme came back with her chicken soup we settled her in between us. Bella got about halfway through the small cup before she couldn't finish anymore, her arms crossing over her stomach when Esme took the cup from her hands. I pulled her into my side and she rested her head on my shoulder. I rubbed my hand in circles on her back to try and soothe her only to feel how thin she was beneath her clothing, though it was not currently my biggest concern regarding her. We turned something on the tv to play in the background but I couldn't tell you what it was, Bella taking all of our attention as we watched her slip in and out of consciousness.

The sound of her phone ringing took our attention briefly from our youngest to the disturbance. In a matter of moments, I transferred Bella from my arms to Esme's and grabbed the phone before the ringer could go off again. I walked into the hallway so I could speak louder without disturbing Bella.

"Hello, Charlie," I greeted and was met with a moment of silence.

"Carlisle?" Charlie spoke my name with confusion. "Is Bells alright?"

"She's resting," I said and pursed his lips. "She wasn't feeling well so Esme picked her up from school and brought her to see me."

"I can come home if she's sick." Charlie offered

"Don't worry about it, Charlie," I assured him. "She's fine here, it's no trouble."

"Thanks," he said and I smiled at how much Charlie reminded me of Bella. "Let her know I called?"

"Of course," I assure him.

Bella is still out when I make my way back to them. She is still warm but the light sheen of perspiration across her pale face told me the pills were finally starting to work. We'll move her to her bed soon but I was loathsome to move her when she was resting well here.

We listen to her mumble unintelligibly in her sleep, able to pick out a few words here and there like "Edward, Mom," and "Dad." Esme can't help but smile every time Bella says "Mom," even if she's asleep.

I know I speak for both of us when I say that we'd love nothing more than to have Bella see us as her parents because from the first day Edward brought her home we saw her as a daughter. In Bella's life, being part of a family meant being the responsible one, and taking care of her parents. We don't need her to take care of us. We're the ones who are taking care of her, and our human daughter needs us in ways that our other children never had.

Bella had always been a quiet girl, but her silence since our return has been disconcerting.

This wasn't the weekend we had planned on having for Bella. I wasn't counting on her being sick, but with her health being as it has been recently, I can't say I'm surprised she came down with something.

My intention was to take Bella to Seattle where I could take steps to assure her that she was in our family forever, that we have no intention of leaving her behind ever again. While we had bank accounts all over the world under different aliases and such, the one here in Seattle was the main account we were currently using.

While our words didn't seem to ease the fear of another sudden departure from our youngest, Esme and I hoped that by adding Bella to the account she would be reassured that if for any reason we were separated, she would have a way, and the resources to find us.

Her restful, calm sleep was over like the flip of a switch. Esme's eyes met mine as we listened to her heart speed up.

"Don't. . . Don't go." A whimper escapes her, and I make quiet shushing sounds, hoping to soothe her. So scared, the poor thing. I can see her trembling in Esme's arms.

"Nightmares," we realized at the same time.

"Edward, please-" her voice broke on her plea, tearing through my chest at the pain evident in her words. "Don't leave," she begged, the words slurred together and almost incoherent.

"We won't," Esme assured her, whispering her comforting words into Bella's hair as Bella curled herself tighter into her. Her hands fisted in the soft fabric of Esme's shirt. "We won't ever leave you again, Babygirl." When her eyes met mine I could see the pain I was feeling reflected right back.

I leaned forward, running my fingers through Bella's long brown hair. The trembling that rocked through her as she slept and the pounding of her heart in an unsteady staccato rhythm spoke of her fear and upset, and had twisted my heart with indescribable worry. With bated breaths, we watch her fight through the nightmare behind her closed eyes. Our attempt at soothing her back into a calm, restful sleep not succeeding, we try and wake her.

A scream pierces the quiet of the house and her fever-glazed, bloodshot eyes open in an instant. Her eyes move rapidly as they canvas the room, though they don't land on anything long enough for them to process it. When they finally settle on Esme and me, they fill up with tears. The stress sends her into a coughing fit, and Esme moves her into a sitting position while I grab another dose of a fever reducer and cough suppressant.

I make a detour through the kitchen, putting the tea kettle back on the stove. I take a mug and put in a bag of peppermint tea, pouring the water over it once it boils. The peppermint should help with her nausea as well as help her sleep, Lord knows the poor child needs more sleep. I know it'll help her fall asleep faster and stay asleep longer, and it's much less potent than any sleep-aiding drug I could give her.

Her nose crinkles at the smell when I place the tea in front of her, but she takes it with a quiet "thank you," as she swallows the pills I gave her. She takes another slow hesitant sip of her drink. I take my seat next to her again and she sighs quietly against me, relaxing into my side as my arm wraps around her. She's fighting her need to sleep but her consciousness doesn't last long before she closes her eyes. She was still exhausted.

I said a prayer of thanks that she seemed to be improving, thankful she was not only able to drink this cup of tea but was also able to keep it down.

"Stay," her plea is soft and childlike as she slips closer to unconsciousness. "Don't leave me."

"As long as you need us to, we'll be here."

"Do you promise?"

"I do."

A/N: Please Review!