Author's Note: Thanks for the warm welcome back! We're taking a brief interlude in a new POV this chapter…


- Chapter 21: Of My Life and Death -

He should have said it the moment he'd found her on that creek bank, soaked and scraped and cut up.

Why hadn't he?

He knew he would be carrying her to an uncertain fate, Alice's visions twisting with possibilities both terrible and triumphant.

And yet, he'd not thought to speak the words when he had the chance.

Now, she lay motionless in the bed where he'd so gingerly placed her. He'd had to look away when Carlisle moved to strap her beautiful, broken neck into a brace—"It may help the healing go faster," Carlisle said apologetically.

The harsh, grating scrape of bone on bone as Carlisle realigned her mangled vertebrae would echo in Edward's mind for eternity.

As he held her bruised hand in his own, though, he found he was glad Carlisle had thought to maneuver her dark head to a more natural angle, to close her sightless eyes, to clean the blood from her face and arms.

This way, Edward could almost pretend she was sleeping.

Even so, he couldn't ignore her grey pallor, the cuts and abrasions, the near-deathlike stillness of her. He did his best to focus on the gentle rise and fall of her chest instead.

She'd had to fight for those shallow breaths. It had taken long minutes for her to be able to do it on her own, without one of them pumping her chest and breathing into her mouth to trigger the inflation of her lungs.

"That's a good sign," Carlisle said when she'd first inhaled. "Your venom is repairing the nervous system."

So Edward kept his vigil, letting the precious tha-thump of her heartbeat soothe him.

"Bella," he whispered brokenly.

He wanted to say it now, to pour all of his love for her into the air, as he should have done from the moment he'd realized it. But would she hear him?

And what a craven way to remedy his failure—to say it for the first time when she couldn't respond, might not ever know he'd said it at all.

He'd been doing his best to block out the maelstrom of thoughts swirling among the inhabitants of the lodge and those still lurking outside. Carlisle, however, could always manage to break through Edward's defenses.

Aro wishes to speak with you.

Edward felt the growl rise in his throat. With effort, he swallowed it back.

He didn't want to distress her if she could hear him, after all.

"I won't leave her alone."

I'll sit with her, Alice cut in. She won't be alone.

Edward's mental wall was slipping, the cacophony of mental voices a low buzz now. An image came through—one of Alice's visions.

Crimson eyes snapping open, bright rubies in the snowy, perfect porcelain of Bella's lovely countenance.

She'll be all right now. Alice's confidence and relief flooded his mind. You made it in time.

Something deep in his chest loosened. She would wake.

"All right," he conceded. After all, it would be better to deal with Aro sooner rather than later, when Bella would be closer to waking.

He would not miss that sight for all the world.

- o - o - o -

He found Aro behind the house, overlooking the bright turquoise water of the glacier-fed lake with his arms clasped behind his back. He was alone, but Edward could feel the watchful presence of the Guard nearby.

Carlisle has done well here, for all his eccentricities.

Edward did not respond to this thought, though Aro clearly meant for him to hear.

"The girl will complete the change, then?"

Edward made a quiet grunt of confirmation. Wherever this was going, he wanted to get on with it.

"I'm glad to hear it, though I regret how it came about." Aro turned his head to consider him then, one side of his thin lips quirked up. "Bella will make a formidable creature."

"Don't you dare say her name!"

The snarl came unbidden, with a sudden heat that was unwise to let slip into his tone at this juncture. The rage that he'd pushed down in favor of tenderness while caring for Bella flared in his chest, made the edges of his vision blacken.

Aro merely gave a nod of polite concession.

"Regardless," he said, "with her transformation underway, her knowledge of our world is no longer a concern."

Edward's jaw tensed, waiting for the inevitable 'but.'

"I should like to offer you both a place with us in Volterra—along with the enchanting Alice, of course, should she wish it."

Caught off guard, he blinked. Offer?

Aro's smile deepened, tinged with an amusement that Edward found confusing. Is your opinion of me really so low to think that I might force you?

Edward schooled his features. "I assumed you would enact your punishment for my carelessness."

The aristocratic shrug struck Edward as slightly too studied. "As you said, it was not you who revealed the secret. And the one responsible for that oversight has suffered the consequences."

An image of Antoinette's face, still fixed in triumph even as her head was ripped from her shoulders, appeared in Aro's mind.

Emmett and Jasper are helping Felix light the fire as we speak.

Edward might have expected some flicker of feeling, if only in memory of the nervous, sweet young woman he'd once married.

But he felt nothing. Only a vague regret that he had not been the one to end her.

I am sorry. Aro's thoughts were infused with a sincerity that Edward put little stock in. I knew her for what she was. I should have had her destroyed long ago.

"Why didn't you?"

The answer didn't matter, not really. But Edward was surprised to find he felt he was owed the answer.

"Ah, Edward," Aro said with a rueful chuckle. "Hope springs eternal, even for those of us who have lived far too long to cling to such naïveté. I thought perhaps if she were alone and vulnerable, you might return to her—and then both of you might return to me."

"Greed, then."

"If you like." There was no hint of offense in Aro's thoughts. "I prefer to think of it as preparation. We must do what we can to gather such gifts for the safety of our world."

Images of the many vampire conflicts flickered, from the fall of the Romanian court to the Southern wars of the last century.

Edward's lip curled ever so slightly. "A weak justification."

"A matter of perspective," Aro corrected sharply. "One that you, I think, failed to appreciate even when you stood beside us."

He paused for a moment, collecting himself again. "But," he began anew, in a more conciliatory tone, "in Antoinette's case, I was mistaken. And now I have rectified that mistake."

A grim thought occurred to Edward. "You would have turned Bella in any case, wouldn't you?"

The memory of the vision Aro had seen in Edward's own mind appeared: Bella, red-eyed and glittering as she ran through a sunlit meadow, Edward close behind.

Alice had seen it ages ago. And the deeper in love Edward fell, the stronger it had become. At their parting, it had been just as clear as any vision Alice had of a human future Bella.

And when Aro had touched him, it had been the thing the Volturi leader had latched onto the hardest.

It was always how this would end, Aro thought, full of conviction. And really, it is the best outcome for all of you. Surely you see that.

Edward would not deign to reply to that absurd notion. What did Aro know of love, of humanity, of the soul?

Nothing.

Seeing that Edward was finished with the conversation, Aro sighed. "Well. If you so desire, Volterra is always open to you. As for your ward…"

That made panic and fury blaze anew in Edward's chest. He whirled to face Aro. "She knows nothing," he hissed. "You saw it yourself, in her mind and mine!"

"Yes, so I did. And as long as it stays that way, I will not interfere with her." He stepped closer to Edward, as though to physically impress the grave sincerity of his next words upon him. "But if she discovers the truth, you will have no recourse. You cannot yet change the girl to save her, as you did your mate. And your existence, along with that of any who aid you in the breach, will be forfeit."

Aro held Bella and Nessie's faces at the forefront of his thoughts with an unmistakably fierce intent. He needn't have bothered; Edward saw them both in his own mind's eye already, his gut clenching in fear.

"I understand," he ground out.

The image disappeared, and Aro's bright smile returned. "Excellent. Then no more may need be said on the matter. You may return to your darling mate's bedside—unless you would like to join me in overseeing the burning?"

Edward felt not even a glimmer of temptation at the offer. He gave Aro a stiff, shallow bow before finally gave into the undeniable pull to return to Bella's side.

- o - o - o -

Time had never felt slower to him. With all the venom he had forced into Bella's system, surely the change would only take a few days at most. But with her so silent and motionless, each hour felt like a week.

The thoughts of his family were not helping his nerves. None of them could help reliving the unbearable anguish of their own transformations—save Nessie, of course. Emmett had retrieved her, Esme, and Rose from the cabin at the foot of the mountain where they'd waited out the Volturi's visit. Edward heard Carlisle carefully explaining to the girl that Miss Bella had taken ill and fallen down some stairs.

Compared to all the vampires' fears around the Volturi, whether Aro's mercy was sincere, and how Edward might possibly care for Nessie with a newborn vampire for a mate, the child's sweet worry for her governess's health was a balm to Edward's battered thoughts.

Only Alice entertained no concerns. Her thoughts bubbled happily over hopes, plans, and visions with equal vigor; she could not wait for Bella to awaken, to become a true member of the family—

Edward sighed. Somehow her surety was worse than the others' nerves.

She's able to hear us, Alice thought, showing him a glimpse of a conversation to come between herself and Bella confirming it. You should talk to her.

He hesitated. The urge to tell her how he felt was strong…but he was too selfish. He wanted to be able to see her eyes, hear her response, feel her lips on his.

But perhaps there was a compromise. He'd used others' words to express those private thoughts to her before—might he not do so again now?

Alice was at the door almost as soon as the thought passed through his mind, a small collection of books in her arm.

"She liked the Keats last time," she said as she deposited the volumes on his lap. And then she was gone again.

"Interfering witch," Edward muttered, though he couldn't help the corners of his lips ticking up into the ghost of a smile.

Careful, Jasper broke in. That's my wife you're talking about.

Edward ignored this and cracked open the top book, letting it fall open to a well-worn place. And then, he began to read aloud.

"Your yën two wol sle me sodenly, I may the beaute of hem not sustene…"


Author's Note: How's everybody feeling now? Still many more loose ends to tie up, of course. I'm doing my best not to make you wait long for the next installments. :)

Modern CPR was not invented until the 60s, but there was some scattered experimental use of manual chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth breathing in the 30s. We're rolling with it.

The poem Edward begins to read is the original Middle English of the Roundel of Merciless Beauty by Geoffrey Chaucer. Below is a more modern translation of the first roundel (the chapter title comes from the third stanza):

Your two eyes will slay me suddenly:
I can the beauty of them not sustain;
It sendeth through my heart a wound so keen.

And if you will not succour hastily
That stricken heart while yet the wound is green,
Your two eyes will slay me suddenly
I can the beauty of them not sustain.

Upon the truth I tell you honestly
That of my life or death you are the queen;
And I should die, that truth be then seen.
Your two eyes will slay me suddenly
I can the beauty of them not sustain;
It sendeth through my heart a wound so keen.