Well, I said I was aiming for another chapter before year end, and for once I actually managed it! A Christmas miracle, perhaps?

I hope that all who celebrate have had a happy and peaceful festive season, and if I don't manage another update before then (unlikely, though I do have a lot of progress on Chapter 17 already) a Happy New Year to all of you.

Without further ado, let's get back into the drama!

Chapter 16: Juliet

It was a shock almost as sharp as plunging into the water when I felt air on my face. My head spun dizzily; I'd been so certain I was sinking, and I was still so cold that my brain was sluggish and slow, struggling to catch up with this sudden change in my circumstances.

It wasn't helped by the still relentless current. It had brought me to the rocks now, and kept slamming me against them, a rhythmic pounding against the centre of my back. Water rushed out of me with every impact, burning up my throat and stinging the inside of my nose and mouth with every gush. I couldn't believe how much there was, how it was possible that I could hold so much. Yet it kept coming, and the water never cleared enough for me to catch a breath. My back was starting to hurt, and I was cold, and the salt water was burning everything. Somehow I was staying in one place despite the waves still surging around me, but when I tried to open my eyes, all I could see was water – water flooding out of me, water pulling at my clothes, water trying to fold over my head again, water, water, water…

"Breathe, dammit!" a voice growled somewhere near my ear, desperate and anxious and absolutely not the voice I wanted to hear.

I couldn't have followed the command if I'd wanted to. There was just too much water.

Another wallop against my back, and another huge torrent surged out of my ruined lungs. I had a passing fancy, no doubt brought on by oxygen deprivation, that perhaps that was why so much water was coming out of me; it had gone through all the holes and filled up my insides completely, soaking into every inch of me and taking up all the empty space.

"Come on, Bella, breathe!" Jules fumed, angry and pleading all at once.

She wasn't as convincing as Edward.

What little I could see was being gradually blocked out by a creeping blackness; it burst in wide patches across my vision and tunnelled in from the edges, robbing me of that bit of light I'd regained, as if I'd slipped back beneath the waves.

I connected hard with the rocks again, and suddenly realised that there was something strange about them. They were warm, chasing away the chill of the water, and though the strikes were hard, there was no sharpness or jagged edges as I would have expected with rock. There was warm pressure against my chest too, the hard, straight something that had dragged me out of the depths. That warmth and the voice finally connected in my head, and I realised the truth; I was not being battered against a rock by the current, but held secure in Jules' arms as she tried to beat the water out of me. I wanted to tell her to lighten up – she was hurting me, and it didn't seem to be having any impact – but I still couldn't breathe, and now the blackness had almost entirely consumed my vision. I couldn't see her, I couldn't control my limbs, I couldn't even think straight anymore.

An errant thought crossed my whirling mind, that I might still be dying after all. I'd been ready before – calm, happy, revelling in one last sight of the one I loved most in all the world. This death hurt, and there was nothing to see but black, black, black… It swallowed everything, even sound, the waves fading away until they were nothing more than a gentle whoosh in my ears.

"Bella?" Jules asked, her voice calmer now but still far from happy. "Can you hear me, Bells?"

I couldn't answer, couldn't focus as my brain was tossed and turned on the rolling waves. It was making me queasy, but I couldn't be sick while all this water was still coming out of me. Except… was it still? I was so disoriented by the spinning in my head that I couldn't even tell anymore.

"Has she been out for long?" asked another voice – this one was male, but sadly still not Edward. Too deep and too rough, but jarring enough to pull me a step back towards myself.

I realised I was lying down on something solid and vaguely flat; there were bumps and divots and an uncomfortable lump in the small of my back, but at least I wasn't in the water anymore. All the shifting and having I felt was only in my head. My throat was empty, and I was breathing again, the air making the strange shushing noise I'd attributed to the waves before. My entire chest burned with every inhale; my airway had been scoured by the salt water, left tender and raw, and my already damaged lungs were probably beyond repair now. But oxygen was oxygen, and my body welcomed it.

Unfortunately, I could also recognise that I was absolutely soaked, not to mention freezing cold. My clothes were plastered against my skin, and there was a sensation like thousands of tiny frozen needles prickling against everything they didn't cover; every jab stung and made me feel impossibly colder.

"I'm not sure," Jules was saying as I came to these upsetting revelations, answering the other voice. The cold was chased away just a little by the touch of her warm hands pushing my sopping hair off my face and gently cradling my cheeks. "It only took a minute or two to get her here, but I don't know if she was awake when I got to her."

She sounded so upset, I couldn't help but want to comfort her. As I tried to summon up the strength to open my eyes, the other voice spoke again, and now I was with it enough to recognise it as Sam's.

"You got her out of the water and breathing. That's important, and so long as she's got air, she'll wake up eventually. But you might want to get her out of the rain and warmed up – that isn't a healthy colour for a person to be."

"Can we move her?" Jules asked, still sounding worried. "I mean, is it going to hurt her more?"

"Did she hit her head or her back at any point?"

"I don't know. I didn't see…"

It was taking a remarkably long time to get enough energy just to lift my eyelids, but eventually I managed it. Forcing my eyes open, I finally came out of the darkness, though the purple-black clouds pelting rain down on me were hardly an improvement. But it was a start, and it took only a few more seconds to get my voice working again, though it came out in a painful rasp. "Jules?"

Immediately, she was leaning into my field of vision, frantic relief plastered across her face. "Yeah, Bella, I'm here. You're safe, it's okay." There was wetness under her eyes, but I couldn't tell if it was tears or run-off from the rain; she was just as drenched as I was.

"Does anything hurt?" she pressed urgently. "Your back or your head?"

I shook my head, though it was more like a weak roll half an inch in either direction. My teeth chattered as I answered. "J-just m-my th-throat."

"Alright," Jules sighed, already sounding happier. "Let's get you out of the rain, huh?"

I felt her warm arms worm their way under me, and even with my brain scrambled by cold and lack of air, I worried for a moment about how she was going to manage to pick me up. But she seemed to have no trouble at all, despite me being completely dead weight; she held me against her chest as if I were no more cumbersome to carry than a feather pillow. She propped my head against her shoulder, which was a good plan because I had absolutely no strength in my neck to keep it upright on my own. My eyes numbly followed the roll of the waves, still battering the small strip of sand at the edge of the beach.

"You good?" Sam asked; I still couldn't see him, and hearing his disembodied voice only added to my disorientation, which was perhaps part of the reason that Jules' next words made no sense to me.

"Yeah, I've got her. You should head back to the hospital, I'll catch you up when I'm sure she's okay."

Sam didn't answer, and I assumed he'd gone, though there was no sound of his retreat. Then again, Jules barely made a noise as she turned and began walking determinedly up the beach. I caught the barest hint of a glimpse of something as she shifted me a little higher in her arms – far out in the black water, a splash of orange flared, like a flickering flame somehow floating on the waves. But that would be completely impossible… perhaps I wasn't as compos mentis as I thought. I was definitely still having trouble making my head stop spinning, and I hadn't fully pulled myself into the present moment; the memory of the pitch-black water consumed my scattered thoughts like I was still caught in its depths, being turned over and over… losing all sense of direction… no idea where I was or how to get to safety… But Jules had somehow found me…

"How did you know where I was?" I asked, each word like a shard of glass ripping up my ruined throat.

"Combination of luck and way too much effort," Jules replied, her tone shifting to anger more and more as she spoke. "I went home looking for you, and Mom told me you'd gone to the beach, come back for the truck, then left again without talking to her. So I followed the tire tracks, but right as I got to the truck I heard you scream… You'd just hit the water as I got to the clifftop…" A shudder rippled through her, and for a moment I was scared; shaking and anger were not a good combination for a werewolf. But this appeared to be just a moment of remembered fear that passed as soon as it came, though she was still clearly annoyed as she went on. "Honestly, Bell, what were you thinking? Did you even notice how bad the weather was getting? There's a difference between thrill-seeking and a death wish, you know."

That stung almost as badly as the rain or the pain in my throat. Now that the moment of potential death had passed, the gravity of what I'd done and what might have happened was beginning to really sink in – along with the attendant guilt.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "It was stupid."

Jules snorted. "Yeah, really stupid. Look, I'm all for pushing your limits, but just wait for me next time, okay? I'm going to be worrying about you too much to focus on anything else at this rate."

"Alright," I mumbled. My voice sounded like it was being raked across gravel; I barely recognised it as mine, but even the most tentative attempt to clear my throat was like a hot poker against the tender passages, so I resolved to make do. "Why were you looking for me? Did you catch Victoria?"

Jules shook her head, looking annoyed, though thankfully no longer at me. She was jogging up the road at an impressive pace considering her current encumbrance, and we were already almost back to her house. "Unfortunately, no. She slipped round us and got to the coast, then went into the water, which meant we were screwed – bloodsuckers swim faster than we can and it's impossible to follow a scent. That's why I was trying to find you, because you spend so much time on the beach and we had no clue where she'd come back onto dry land…"

"Are the others still looking? I heard Sam…" I really hoped there weren't just the three other wolves out on their own. Five of them had taken down Laurent, but I didn't know how slim their numbers advantage could get before even a single vampire could overpower them.

"No, we're all back in now. There's-" She broke off abruptly, as if her words got stuck in her throat. "Well, something happened, and…"

I blinked rain water out of my eyes so I could see her face more clearly; there was worry in her expression, and an aching sadness. A horrifying realisation sunk in, and I cursed my sluggish brain for not reaching it sooner. "You… you told Sam to go back to… the hospital. Is someone hurt? Did she…" I couldn't even finish the sentence, and it had nothing to do with the pain in my throat.

"No, no, we're all fine," Jules hurried to reassure me. "It's… well, it's Harry Clearwater. He had a heart attack this morning. Emily told us when we got back."

"Oh God!" Suddenly I couldn't tell if it was rain I was trying to clear or tears. I didn't know Harry well, but he'd been so friendly when we'd all had dinner together, and he'd been close to my dad since they were kids. "Does Charlie know?"

"Yeah. He came to get Mom so they could both be there for Sue."

"Is Harry going to be alright?"

Jules' eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were haunted. "Not unless someone works a miracle in the next few hours."

If I'd felt guilty before, it was nothing on how my gut was twisting now. I had picked the worst possible time to indulge in idiotic recklessness – not just because of the weather, but because there was now at least one person worrying about me who had better things to be focused on.

"What can I do?" I asked, almost pleaded, because I had to do something. There had to be some way I could offset my colossal stupidity.

"For now, just stay here," Jules commanded, and at the same moment I found myself no longer being rained on; we'd got back to her house much faster than I was expecting, and she'd managed to get the door open without jostling me at all. She set me down on the couch, and I stared up at the ceiling where the rain could still be heard hammering away. "Seriously – do not move. I'm going to grab you something dry to change into."

I was too exhausted not to obey. It was dark, darker than it should have been for this time of the morning thanks to the storm, and Jules hadn't bothered with turning on lights. My eyes gradually adjusted, but the sense of oppressive gloom didn't lighten, a sensation only heightened by Bonnie's conspicuous absence. Whether it was because I was used to her being here or because I knew why she wasn't, the lack of her presence felt dangerous.

Thankfully, I didn't have time to sink too far into that line of contemplation before Jules was back, tossing an unidentifiable pile of grey jersey cloth on top of me. "These aren't in the best shape and they'll probably be big on you, but better than sitting around wet, right? Do you want me to help you change, or would you rather I go outside?"

"Neither," I sighed, reaching out a hand towards her. "I haven't got enough energy for that yet. Come sit with me for a minute."

Of course, there wasn't space for her on the couch beside me, so Jules took a seat on the floor near my head, heaving a heavy sigh as she settled. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll just rest my eyes."

She leaned her head on the couch cushion beside mine, her long legs stretched out under the coffee table. Her eyes slid closed, and I let mine shut too.

Even as the physical pains were beginning to ease – my breathing didn't sting as badly, certainly – I still ached thinking of Harry, sadness now mingling with the guilt. I couldn't imagine what he was going through, what his wife and children and friends must be feeling. I wasn't religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I silently said something like a prayer that he would be alright, despite Jules' pessimism. For the sake of all of them…

The radiator behind the couch was kicking out almost as much heat as Jules, and between the two of them I was feeling warmer by the minute, regardless of my sopping clothes. Jules started snoring softly, and the sound and the warmth together began pulling me towards sleep. I wondered fleetingly if I ought to stay awake, if the same rules for concussions applied to drowning… but I was just too tired, and it didn't take long for me to drift into unconsciousness.

I half expected not to dream at all, but I did. Thankfully, it wasn't a nightmare, just an unfocused amble through memories that came and went and were forgotten in moments. There was the bright blaze of a Phoenix sun, swallowing everything with the sheer force of its light… my mother's smile as she ruffled my brother's hair, his cheeky grin firmly in place on his ten-year-old face… a stripe of blue paint on a lavender wall… a faded quilt stretched across grass… a wall of mirrors, cracked down the middle… a flame flickering impossibly on the surface of black, churning water…

Only one image stayed with me, lingering even after I woke up – a young girl, dainty and delicate in a white Renaissance style nightgown, leaning on the railing of a plywood balcony painted to look like stone, staring up at a flat backdrop of a night sky and framed by stage curtains as she lamented to herself over the boy who had come and gone. I couldn't fathom any meaning or reason that I should be dreaming of Juliet, yet there she was, and she refused to go.

Jules was still snoring beside me, though she'd tipped over and was now draped across the rug; the uncomfortable position didn't seem to bother her in the slightest, and by the looks of the darkness outside the windows, we'd both been asleep for a lot longer than a minute. My clothes had dried out, and I was nice and warm, the only notes of discomfort being the stiff tension of joints that hadn't moved in too long and the burning in my throat that had dulled yet persisted, flaring every time I breathed. I wanted to stretch or go get a drink, but my body wasn't listening to me, quite content to stay draped across the sofa for as long as I could get away with. Even the thought of movement made my muscles protest, so I kept them loose and limp and instead pondered that last image from my dream.

I'd pictured Juliet pretty much at the start of her story – newly enamoured with Romeo, caught in the first blush of love and with no greater problem than a pesky family feud keeping them apart. She wasn't to know how bad it was going to get; really, their relationship couldn't have been much worse by the end.

Except… what if it had been? What if Romeo hadn't been banished by the Prince? What if Juliet had been just as much a passing fancy as Rosaline, and he'd moved on from her in just the same way? If they'd never married and he had just vanished into the ether, what then?

Well, it would have shattered Juliet, that was for certain. I knew exactly what that felt like.

Her life would never be the same, not after him. She wouldn't be able to go back to what she had before, and she certainly never would have moved on. For the rest of her life, every man she met would be compared to Romeo, and every significant moment would be tinged with pain, wondering what it would be like to spend it with him. Perhaps it would eventually become routine, and she would be able to live with it, even accept it, but I didn't believe it would ever fully lose its sting.

Perhaps she would have got married in the end, to Paris or to some other man, just to keep everyone else happy, or under pressure from her parents. She might force herself into an imitation of happiness, for the sake of everyone else around her; maybe Paris wasn't even so bad and they could have had at least a friendly relationship. Love was hardly a requirement of marriage in that time, and after all, not much was said about him.

No, I decided. There would be no marriage, not unless she was literally walked to the altar at the point of her father's sword. Juliet wouldn't be able to face it, not even for the nicest of men. And honestly, who said she had to have a man at all? All that she really needed was a friend, a confidant aside from her doddery old nurse, someone nearer her own age who she could talk to and share her pain with. Maybe Rosaline could be that for her – she was another character Shakespeare hadn't deigned to spend much time on, discarding her as soon as Romeo did. Perhaps they would commiserate over being abandoned by a flippant little boy masquerading as a man. Perhaps Rosaline would help Juliet take her mind off it all, help her smile again, laugh again, feel halfway like herself again…

Jules snuffled slightly in her sleep, then resumed her rhythmic snoring. It was a comforting sound, almost like a lullaby in the way it soothed and calmed me. It made me think of the sway of my rocking chair, of sitting on Charlie's lap with Beau – back in the days when we both fit – listening to him read a story, of those rare moments of calm from Renée when she would brush and braid my hair for school.

What if Rosaline and Juliet grew to love each other, as sisters at least? Or maybe they could have been more – if certain academics were to be believed, Shakespeare was more flexible in his preferences than his time allowed him to express, so perhaps he would have taken the chance to put it into his characters. What if Rosaline filled at least some of the gaps that Romeo had left behind, and Juliet came to depend on her? What if she was the only thing left that made life liveable? What if they both wanted the other to be happy, and found a way to get as close as Juliet was capable of, together?

I sighed, wincing as it stung my throat. No, I was being silly, overthinking things, twisting and warping the story as I tried to justify my own decisions. Paris and Rosalie were paper dolls, filler characters, and rightly so, because they were never supposed to be important; they were the contrast, the miserable second prize that made Romeo and Juliet's love all the more magical by comparison. And really, my entire premise was flawed. Romeo wasn't going anywhere – what would be the point of the story if he did? Their names were remembered together for a reason, because they were the best version, the best outcome possible in the circumstances. It was a tragic ending, but a good story; Juliet getting dumped and left alone, or becoming one of those old-time ladies living with a 'companion' that she was unusually close to – those were weak, unsatisfying endings that were never going to make the cut.

I forced my thoughts away from the ultimate tragic love story and back to my own depressing reality. The more time that passed, the more I realised how truly idiotic my jump had been. I'd gotten very lucky with Jules coming along when she did; if she hadn't, I'd have drowned for certain. And though at the time I'd been content, even happy to be dying in a way that was at least somewhat peaceful, now I could see how awful it would have been for everyone else in the fallout. Charlie could have ended up facing the death of his daughter when he was already on the verge of losing one of his best friends. And Beau… that was the really painful one. How could I even think of leaving my brother, my twin, the one person who had never left my side and who had been working so hard to help me? Especially when we were still in the middle of a fight – how long would he have been wrestling with everything we'd left unresolved? It also occurred to me only now that unless the tides were very generous, my body might never have even been recovered; there would be only the abandoned truck to show where I had been, and a lot of guesswork about what had happened. Jules would probably have had to admit to our plans for the morning, which would bring up even more questions for my father, and likely lead to the revelation of the bikes and all my other reckless stupidity. The situation with Harry was giving me a new perspective on everything, and suddenly all my choices for the last few months seemed like nothing more than a series of colossal mistakes.

Yet even now I couldn't completely acknowledge that fact, because admitting I was wrong meant I had no more excuses to continue. I'd never tell Charlie about any of this – I didn't want him having a heart attack of his own – but the bikes would have to stop, and there would be no second attempt at cliff jumping. I would have to finally listen to Beau and behave myself, finally start acting sensibly and actually take care of myself. Giving up any chance of seeing or hearing Edward again would be a wrench, for sure; I'd been comparing it to an addiction, and there were bound to be withdrawals that I'd barely scratched the surface of in the last few weeks. It would be hard work, but it might be possible… Jules might make it possible…

But of course, that brought me back to the question I'd been avoiding just as staunchly as the true consequences of my turn as a daredevil – was Jules going to be my friend, or something more?

I hadn't been exaggerating when I told Beau she was all I would have left when he inevitably left for his happily ever after with Edythe – wouldn't he be glad I wasn't alone when he abandoned me? My brother didn't do judgement, so I didn't think it would bother him too much if our connection morphed into a romantic one. Charlie might take a little longer to adjust; I was fairly sure he'd never had an issue with Rosalie and Eleanor (and wasn't it annoying how I still winced just thinking their names) but it was bound to be different to accept his daughter in such a relationship. I obviously knew he had no objection to Jules as a person, and I was sure he and Bonnie would relish the chance at being family to one another, if it ever got that far. People at school would talk, of course, but did I care what they thought? For the most part, no, and the only ones whose opinions really mattered were also the ones I was tolerably certain wouldn't mind in the slightest.

So in the end it came back round to me, and whether this was what I wanted. I certainly couldn't imagine my life without her, not anymore. She was a necessary component of maintaining what sanity and stability I had left. I couldn't picture myself with anyone else, yet it was hard to visualise what it would look like to be with her, too. Would it be more of what we already had? Days spent together, taking comfort from each other, doing homework and watching movies and going for walks on the beach. I could definitely imagine being wrapped up in her warmth for hours, just enjoying the sense of togetherness. And when it came to other things… to the more physical side… well, I had so little experience there, it surely wouldn't be hard to learn my way around a new kind of body. I'd called her beautiful once, and, head trauma notwithstanding, there had to be some truth behind that feeling or I wouldn't have had the thought at all.

But if I accepted all this… if I went forward with Jules… it would mean finally giving up a hope I only now recognised I was still holding onto, and just considering that was agony.

I sighed. There was no way I could make a choice now; I was tired and hurting and emotionally overwrought. No good decision could come from that kind of headspace.

As I searched my still woozy brain for something else to occupy it, I found myself reliving moments from my idiotic morning activities. I remembered the thrill of the air rushing past me… the choking blackness of the water… being yanked around by the current… Edward's face… I stayed on that for a long time, accepting the tearing ache in my chest that resulted. The image was already tainted by my imperfect memory, but it was still so much clearer than anything I'd dared to conjure up for months – I never wanted to let it go. But eventually the pain became too much, and my mind forced me to move on. I remembered the warmth of Jules' hands as she forced water out of my lungs… as she gently cradled my face… the angry, bruise-like purple of the clouds that battered me with stinging, freezing rain… that strange flame on the water as we walked away…

That image still didn't make any sense. If it was a fire, it had to be on one of the islands, some adventurous soul out camping. But who would be stupid enough to potentially strand themselves in the horrendous weather? Besides, it had looked a lot closer than that, and there was something oddly familiar about the colour…

My train of thought was abruptly derailed by the sound of a car outside, the low rumble of the engine and the wet squish of tires through mud seeming almost to echo after hours of nothing but steady rainfall. There was the thud of several doors opening and closing; I tried to sit up and make myself more presentable for whoever was arriving, but as soon as I moved, my head spun and my muscles protested loudly. Better safe than sorry, I decided, settling back into the cushions.

At least two voices could be heard from outside, though they were so low that I didn't have a hope of understanding what they were saying and only recognised Bonnie from her distinctive gravelly tones.

The door opened and someone turned on the light. I had to squeeze my eyes tight shut as the sudden blaze blinded me; I'd adjusted to the near darkness that I'd awoken to, and the change was jarring. Jules woke up with a start, practically leaping to her feet, which was impressive given her size and the relatively cramped room.

"Sorry," Bonnie gasped. "Didn't mean to wake you."

I blinked a few times, and once I could see her face clearly, it was obvious immediately that my prayers hadn't been answered. Tears jumped into my eyes in a heartbeat, and my voice was choked as well as scratchy. "Oh no, Bonnie…"

Her face was tired and worn, the sadness seeming to colour every inch of her. She nodded slowly, like the movement took all of her energy. She looked suddenly even older than she really was, and at the same time almost childlike; there was a look of helplessness and confusion about her, like she'd experienced something she had no frame of reference for and didn't know what to do next. It was disconcerting to say the least – Bonnie had always been so unfailingly confident.

Jules hurried over and knelt beside her, taking hold of her mother's hand. She was crying silently, the tears pouring down her face without her seeming to notice them, and her expression was one of deep despair. Bonnie didn't even acknowledge her, seemingly too lost in her own grief. My heart ached for both of them, my own tears spilling over and trickling slowly down my cheek.

Sam stood behind Bonnie, having clearly just helped her get inside the house. He looked like he was wrestling to maintain his usual stoic composure, but it was a feeble effort; the grief was just too strong.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, and instantly regretted it. What good was sorry now, especially from me? I was nothing but an intruder, breaking in to this most awful of moments.

Still, Bonnie bowed her head solemnly and sounded truly grateful as she said, "Thank you, Bella. We're all in for some rough days ahead… some more than others."

"Is Charlie…" I wasn't sure where the question was going, but she guessed at what I wanted to know.

"He stayed back to help Sue with the… arrangements that need to be made at the hospital."

"I should head back there," Sam muttered awkwardly; despite his intrusive size, I'd almost forgotten he was there. He left quickly, having to stoop to get through the doorway, and I heard the car drive off outside.

Bonnie pulled her hand away from Jules and wheeled round her, heading for the kitchen and likely her room. However, she stopped when the phone rang, almost exactly when she passed it.

"Hello, this is Bonnie," she said into the receiver, her voice low and dull. "Beau. What can I…" She broke off abruptly, as if my brother had interrupted her. Instantly, I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Bonnie listened for a moment, her frown growing deeper each second, before she answered. "No need to worry, son, she's here… yes, I'm looking at her right this second… of course I will… I appreciate that… alright, bye." She hung up the phone and turned to me with a stern look in her eyes. "That was your brother. Seemed pretty frantic, and insisted I tell you to go home right away." One eyebrow rose. "Any idea why he's quite so worked up?"

I couldn't stop the way I cringed, guilty and embarrassed in equal measure. "He's probably worried about me being out in the storm. I told him I was hiking with Jules today."

Bonnie didn't look like she completely believed me, but after a second more of scrutiny, the exhaustion of her grief overtook her once again; she simply nodded and rolled herself into her room.

Jules finally stood from where she'd been left on the floor. "I'll go get the truck, then."

I nodded numbly, wishing there was anything I could do to be of comfort. By the time I thought about reaching out and offering her a hug, or even just to hold her hand for a moment, she was already gone. So all I could do was wait uselessly on the sofa, trying not to pry while listening out in case Bonnie needed anything. But she was silent in her room, and so I continued to feel like an invader. It was a strange relief when I heard the roar of the truck, sooner than I was expecting it; Jules must have moved fast to get to it. She was far from happy when she came back in, yet she had a sense of purpose behind her eyes that made her look less hopeless, which I took as a good sign.

She supported almost all my weight as she helped me off the couch and out to the car, and eyed me with concern.

"Are you sure you're alright? We can swing by a doctor before I take you home."

I shook my head, having to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment when the movement made me dizzy. "No, I'd rather get straight home. I mean, I feel awful, but I don't think there's much anyone can do right now. Besides, the last thing I need is Charlie finding out about all of this."

I shivered, partly at the idea and partly at the icy wind that swept across Jules' yard. She wrapped her warm arm more firmly around me, which I appreciated. I was also happy to let her take the wheel; she didn't ask, but I certainly wasn't about to complain, nor did I object to her pulling me into her side once we were both seated. I leaned on her shoulder, settling in to the comfortable rumble of the engine.

"Are you going to run home?" I wondered idly. "Or are you going to the hospital with the others?"

"Neither," she murmured. "Someone's still got to catch the redhead. Picking up her trail is going to be harder, but the last thing we need is her slipping through while we're all distracted."

I shuddered and pulled her arm tighter around me, lacing our fingers together without thinking. I closed my eyes when she glanced down curiously, shamelessly avoiding her gaze.

Despite appearances, I was far from falling asleep again; the cold air had woken me up, and now that my mind was clearer, it was working fast.

I had to make up my mind about what was best. Jules deserved a definitive answer, no more of this dancing around, keeping her at arm's length while refusing to let her go. No matter what, I couldn't live without her, so was it better to bite the bullet and give her what she wanted?

I'd once wished she could have been my sister, that we could have the same sort of bond she had with Beau. Was that what I really wanted, or did I simply want her to be mine, and sister was the only thing that made sense at the time? The way she held me now didn't feel like anything I had ever shared with my brother; truly, it didn't feel like anything I'd had with anyone before. It would be an unfamiliar experience, being with Jules, that much I had already recognised. It would be a lot to learn, but I thought I could do it. I could have her, keep her, and keep myself in the process; I certainly couldn't see her objecting to the idea.

Maybe she would change her mind when she heard everything – and I would have to tell her everything, not just how truly broken I was (which I was sure she already knew) but exactly how much I had lost my mind, about the voices and how all the work with the bikes had been under false pretences. I'd need her to understand what she was taking on, that she was by far the better of the two of us, that I might not be capable of committing as much to a relationship as she could.

But I'd give her everything I had left. I had to if we were to have any hope of working. She couldn't have my heart – that was off wandering somewhere, still held by my unreliable Romeo – but she would get everything else. My existence would be dedicated to making her happy, as imperfectly as I was able. That had to be worth something, didn't it? Good intentions might not make up for everything I lacked, but they had to mean something.

I risked opening my eyes and looked up. I couldn't see much of Jules' face in the dark – night had fully descended while I wasn't paying attention – but what was lit by the glow of the headlights was thoughtful and serious. Was she thinking about Harry, or was there a chance her thoughts had strayed to where mine had? How would she react if I leaned up just a little… if I touched my lips to the underside of her chin… her cheek… her lips?

I could imagine it so clearly, and though the exact sensations were a mystery, I was certain it would all be very easy. She wouldn't ask questions tonight.

Unbidden and honestly a little annoying, my thoughts strayed to Edward. His face had officially broken through the barrier I had put up to hold it back now, and it swam into my field of view, flickering as if projected onto the trees and houses passing outside the truck windows. In my imagination, he looked oddly sympathetic, as if he understood, as if for once he could read my mind perfectly. Which, of course, he could – this Edward was nothing more than a part of my mind, conjured up by it to help me cope with just how unstable I had become. Would the real Edward be so understanding? Would he accept me giving what love I had left to Jules? He had to – he didn't want it, after all. He was the one who had walked away; if he ever found out about this (and I was sure I could convince Edythe to keep it a secret for as long as she was able) he had no right to be angry or upset. Not that I could imagine he would be. I was nothing to him now, a blip in his history, that strange girl he'd spent some time with for a few months when he lived in Forks, his first love, perhaps, but far from his last. In years to come, he'd look back on our time together and wonder idly what had happened to me, and maybe he'd ask his sister, or my brother, once he joined them. Perhaps he would even be glad to hear that I hadn't been lonely for long, that I had found someone who made me happy and forged what I could out of the life he left in pieces. That was what he'd always wanted, wasn't it? For me to live a happy human life.

"Bella," Jules murmured, interrupting my revery.

I blinked my hallucination away and tilted my chin up, looking at her more obviously this time. "Yeah, Jules?"

"There's something I've gotta say… and I'm not expecting anything, really. It's just… well, I keep thinking how close I came to losing you today, and that's kind of terrifying, but you're okay, and that makes me really happy…" She took a deep breath, slowing the truck to a crawl so she could turn more of her attention to me. Her dark eyes glittered like gemstones in the limited light. "I just want you to know, the way I feel about you hasn't changed. We haven't really had a chance to talk about it, and I know you don't feel the same way. Just know that… I'm here. Whatever you want, whatever you need. And I really mean it this time – no more disappearing acts." She smiled self-deprecatingly.

This was the moment. It would be perfect, beautiful in a way, to answer her declaration with action, to lean up and make that last connection. I'd decided. I was ready.

Yet still I hesitated. Some part of me, buried deep down but rapidly clawing its way to the surface, still clung to the fragments of my absent heart and screamed out against the betrayal.

As I wavered on the edge between what was and what could be, my stomach in knots and my mind spinning in circles, I heard the last thing I expected at that moment. With no hint of danger anywhere, with no adrenaline coursing through me, with nothing reckless or stupid in sight, I heard Edward's voice, honey-sweet and gentle as silk, whispering in my ear.

"Be happy."

Reflexively, I stiffened. I knew instantly it was the wrong move, but it was done before I even realised I was doing it. Jules' face fell, and though she covered it quickly, I saw the heartbreak in her eyes. She released me and refocused her attention on the road, and revved the engine back up as she turned the last corner onto our street. I wanted to speak, to reassure her, to recover that moment of perfection… but it was already gone. Instead, I was left straining to hear the last echoes of Edward's voice, puzzling over what it could mean.

I felt extra cold now that the warmth of Jules' arm was gone, and I wrapped my arms around me, for once not just to hold myself together.

The porch light was on when we pulled up to the curb outside my house. I saw the curtains twitch and knew Beau was watching out for me, waiting. Jules wouldn't look at me; she was fixated on a spot across the street, her shoulders rising and her hands beginning to shake on the steering wheel. Following her gaze, I saw at once what had got her hackles up. The Impala was back, and behind it was another car, sleek and black with dark tinted windows. I recognised it at once, remembered the look of those windows with bright Arizona sun shining through them, recalled the soft purr of the engine beneath me as it drove, could almost smell the rich scent of the leather interior – it was Carine's Mercedes. A bolt of shock went through me.

"She's back," Jules almost growled. It was not a question. The hateful way she said 'she' made me defensive, protective of the person who had done nothing to earn her ire. "And there's another one. I can smell them from here."

"That's Carine's car," I told her, trying my best to sound calm and reasonable. "Maybe she came to check on Edythe, or see what's going on with Victoria. Maybe she wants to help."

Better not to mention that she had been more concerned with keeping up appearances in their new home only a few weeks ago. Jules didn't need more reasons to be angry at the Cullens. Internally, I was trying to prepare myself for the sight of another one of them in my house. Maybe even two; Carine might have brought Earnest with her… I forced myself to stop, to not build up too much hope. And it was hope I felt at the thought of seeing them, not the dread I had expected. Apparently, Edythe's presence had done some good after all.

"You shouldn't go in there," Jules insisted. "Having one of them in your house is bad enough, but two… It isn't safe, Bella."

That made me frown, and my voice was hard when I spoke. "You think you know them because you know the stories, but you don't, Jules. You have no idea what you're talking about. Beau and I are safer with Edythe and her family than we are with anyone else in the world."

She winced, obviously catching my implication that the wolves were less safe than the vampires. She looked like she was about to argue, but I was done with the entire conversation. I had to be away, away from my epic fumble, away from her judgemental attitude that made her into a person I didn't recognise.

"I have to go. Beau will be really panicking by now," I said, trying to moderate my tone a little. "Please get out."

She searched my face for something, but by her look of frustration, she didn't find it. "I'll stay close."

"Go home." I said firmly. "Your mother needs you."

I got out and slammed the door, not giving her the opportunity to argue further. I didn't hear her leaving as I walked up to the house, but I didn't turn around to check either. As far as I was concerned, I had said my piece. She would leave or she would stay, and there wasn't anything else I could do about that. I had other problems to deal with now – large, anxious, Beau-shaped problems. The fault lines spreading through what remained of my heart would have to wait until later.

The door was already unlocked when I tried the handle, so I took a deep breath and pushed it open, braced for whatever I would face next.