A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Yesterday a Child Came Out to Wonder

Darlings,

Your thoughts are divine, my dears. Thank you so much for sharing.

To lovely beta n7of9, I offer thanks in the form of haiku...

reads with a keen eye

these words she does make pretty

robler with whipped cream

Disclaimer: I don't own it…

...

BPOV

"And it's another diaper genie," Rose said, the fakest smile I had ever seen plastered on her pretty face. She slid the box over to me and rolled her eyes as I tried to control the snorting laughter threatening to ruin what could only be described as the most polite party I had ever been to. Alice busily scribbled down the gift which was from one of Rosalie's coworkers, Jane I think her name was. Anyway, Jane, mother of three, rambled on and on about how wonderful the diaper genie was, and it suddenly occurred to me that life takes on a whole new meaning when the most incredible invention in your life is a bucket for shitty diapers.

I slid the box along the floor, right next to the other three shit buckets Rose had received. Apparently, even when you register for stuff, people don't really look at it. Not that I would ever need that information, I just found it interesting that there was this whole system to prevent this multiple present ordeal and it seemed all effort was wasted. People end up doing what they want, and despite efforts to guide them in a particular direction, they still come bearing a bucket for shit.

I had been home from the hospital five days and already things were as if I had never left. Edward skipped school a couple of times this week to stay home with me. We hadn't really talked much since my breakdown in the meadow and we still hadn't discussed the whole infertility issue, not because we were avoiding it, but we just hadn't had the chance. Someone had always been around, whether it was Esme stopping in to graciously do a load of laundry for us, or Alice hanging around asking us to run errands with her in preparation for Rosalie's baby shower.

Edward went everywhere with us, glued to my side like he thought I would implode or something if left on my own. He portioned out my pills in the morning. He made sure I ate my fifteen hundred calories. He reminded me to take a shower, told me when to go to bed, and asked me a hundred times a day if I was okay. He was upstairs somewhere right now, having made himself scarce when these ladies started in on their birthing stories. It seemed as though my whole no-more-eggshells thing had backfired completely. Edward wasn't holding back anymore, and he wasn't worried about pissing me off either. And I didn't know if I could blame him, really. If it gave him some peace of mind, if it gave him anything at all, I would put up with it. It was the only thing I had left to give him. "Love is a throne to borrow, pay for the loan tomorrow..."

Rosalie was opening another gift and I added more baby clothes to the sea of yellows and greens piled on the curved couch in the Cullens' living room, next to fuzzy stuffed ducks and boxes of diapers and wipes, bottles and burp cloths, and some other stuff that was downright frightening. I mean, nipple shields? Breast pumps? Milk bags? This shit was creeping me out. I understand it's natural, it's what boobs are for, but it was totally bizarre for someone as infant illiterate as me.

I was a little apprehensive about the tiny roommate that would be joining us in just a matter of weeks. Rosalie had read a ton of books about babies and what she should expect during labor, or how to deal with colic and constipation, how many hours they should sleep, how many ounces they should eat, just books and books of tips and rules. Don't use a pacifier, do swaddle, don't let them sleep on their backs, do wake them up to eat, each book said something slightly different and I found myself wondering how, with all this conflicting advice, any of us made it through infancy at all.

Rosalie opened my present next, removing the paper from the pink electric screwdriver.

"Oh shit! Why didn't you let me open this last night?" Rosalie exclaimed, breaking her polite façade with profanity and causing a collective gasp from the party guests. I laughed and got up from my spot on the floor to hug her. Esme and Carlisle had brought over a crib last night, their gift to the baby, and it took six of us to put it together, all the while Rosalie cursing because we had to twist in about fifty billion screws by hand.

Emmett had stayed in Pullman this weekend so he could prepare for one of his finals. He had asked his professors if he could take the finals early so he wouldn't have to go back to Pullman after the baby was born. His finals were at the end of May, so he'd really only be missing, like, two weeks of actual class. Luckily they had agreed, but that meant that he would have to learn the missed material on his own.

"All right, let's cut the damn cake already," Rosalie muttered under her breath as she awkwardly tried to get up from the deeply seated couch, her very round belly causing a bit of a roly-poly situation, as we had been so lovingly referring to it behind her back and sometimes to her face when we wanted to piss her off. She'd cuss us out while struggling to remove herself from her seated position, which only made the sight all the more hilarious.

I walked into the kitchen to help Esme serve the two tiered cake, the smooth white paste decorated with blue and yellow swirls. The smell of the sugary frosting was sickeningly sweet as I portioned out the pieces onto plates and Alice served them to the guests in the living room. My stomach twisted at the smell and I quickly poured myself a cup of coffee to mask the sugary scent. Sipping the hot aromatic liquid quickly, it scalded my tongue in my haste to quiet the grumbling in my belly. I had taken my meds this morning but had yet to eat a meal, mainly due to the frantic whirlwind of activity the morning had been, and now the effects of this mistake were making themselves known.

I was going to throw up.

Leaving my cup on the kitchen counter, I made a mad dash for the downstairs bathroom, locking the door behind me. I stood over the toilet and tried to control my breathing as I felt the awful pills dissolving in my stomach and mixing with the bitter coffee. I didn't want to puke, I really didn't. I wanted to just go back and enjoy the party like everyone else. I wanted to ooh and aah at the baby shit and ignore the cynical jokes that had been popping into my head all morning. I wanted to go eat a piece of cake, the confection made to celebrate the bravery and strength of one of my dearest friends.

Instead, here I was, in this bathroom. This goddamn fucking bathroom! A year ago I was puking in this bathroom. One year. It took me a whole year to fuck shit up and I had really done a number here. I had made this exceptional person fall in love with me and now all I could see was the hurt I had caused him in my pathetic attempt to be fucking normal, and for what? It was all for nothing. My fate was sealed, karma kissing my sorry-ass goodbye. This disorder was going to kill me and there was nothing I could do about it now, my body battered and torn, scarred and maimed, and all of it my own fucking fault. I can't live my life this way, constantly battling this compulsion, constantly trying to relieve the pressure in my stomach, my heart, my brain. And what was the point of this struggle when my body was so destroyed already? My head throbbed and the bile rose in my throat, and I tried to breathe through my nose but the pressure proved too great.

I heaved into the toilet, the small amount of coffee I had drunk splattering into the bowl, and it burned the back of my throat, my entire chest feeling like it was going to cave in, hollow and empty as I gasped. It all hurt, my chest, my throat, a searing pain as I coughed, another futile heave bringing tears to my eyes as I swore under my breath. The side of my fist slammed into the wall, the satisfaction of the sting only mildly appeasing the pure disgust I felt for myself in that moment.

I ran the tap, pooling the water in my hands and drinking, the cool liquid soothing the back of my throat before I used a piece of toilet paper to remove the smudged eye makeup from under my eyes. Shit, I didn't even have any fucking mints.

I walked back into the kitchen to find Rosalie standing at the counter, her eyes on me, and I could tell she knew. She probably thought I had made myself hurl by shoving my fingers down my throat, but I couldn't find the strength to even care to dispute it. She was pissed.

"Bella," she started, pure detest in her face and obvious anger in her features. She just kept shaking her head and closing her eyes, her perfectly painted finger nails running through her golden hair. "I'm not going to freak out, not here. But I seriously want to rip your head off right now." I believed her too; with her fingers curled into fists, she literally looked like she meant me bodily harm.

"I know. Can we talk later?" I asked quietly.

"You bet your sweet ass we're going to talk later." I sighed as she walked back into the living room, leaving me in the huge kitchen all alone.

We loaded up Edward's car with the presents, pastel tissue paper, bags and boxes, and four diaper genies, all piled into the trunk of the Volvo. Rosalie sat in the back, her arms folded across her chest and resting on her large belly, her eyes fixed on the trees lining the street, and I leaned back against the head rest. She was seriously going to hurt me when we got home.

Edward reached over to grab my hand, his lips pulled into a spectacular grin, his fingers soothing as they twisted into mine. Guilt dropped like a ton of bricks right into the pit of my stomach, knowing what I was going to have to tell him, knowing that I would be the one to cause that grin to falter. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep doing this to him?

He pulled into the driveway and we unloaded the car, marching the baby gifts straight up to Rosalie's room. She dumped everything into the crib, pulling off the tags and getting the clothes ready to wash. Edward set about pulling stuff out of the freezer for dinner. It was mid-afternoon and the anticipation of Rosalie's "talk" was killing me. I wish she would just get it over with.

It wasn't until after dinner, when Edward and I were lounging on the couch and fully engulfed in a docudrama about Nostradamus on the Discovery Channel, that Rosalie decided she was ready to talk.

She stood at the top of the stairs, calling through the house.

"Bella? Can you come help me with something? I'm trying to put together this breast pump and I don't know how it works." Oh, thank God! She wasn't going to do this in front of Edward. At least she was giving me the decency of a private beheading.

"Um…sure," I responded, shrugging my shoulders at Edward as he twisted his face to convey a multitude of emotions: confusion, surprise, and downright fear at the mentioning of lactation. If I hadn't known what awaited me upstairs, I would have laughed.

I disentangled myself from Edward's limbs and marched up the stairs to find Rosalie sitting on her bed, her hands caressing a fuzzy green chenille blanket. I sat down next to her, waiting for the blade to drop.

"I'm sorry Bella," Rosalie said quietly, and I looked at her in confusion, her apology clearly not what I was expecting.

"Esme told me. About how you can't have kids." Ah, yes. Esme would know. Why I thought Edward would keep this to himself, I do not know. There aren't any secrets with the Cullens.

"I mean, that's not for sure though, right? Like, there's still a chance? If you got better then your body would heal and maybe later you could try." Rosalie pulled at the green blanket, her eyes intent on the soft yarn.

"Um, I think it's pretty certain. There's really no way to know for sure at this point, but they were pretty clear that if I were to get pregnant again, I could pretty much expect a rerun of the last couple of weeks. But they shot me full of birth control, so that's that." I swallowed and tried to suppress the burning in my stomach, the pressure constricting in my chest.

"It's definitely not going to get any better if you keep throwing up, though, right?" Rosalie looked at me now, the meaning behind her question evident in the squint of her eyes. She wasn't really asking a question.

"No, it's not going to get any better," I mumbled as tears stung my eyes, my lip quivering as I forced my teeth into it to try to maintain control.

"It's just that you didn't see how this is affected them, the Cullens. Esme and Alice were a mess, Carlisle checked on you like every hour while you were at the hospital and Edward…well, I've never seen a burning man before, except for those pictures of the burning Buddhist monks, but I'd imagine that was probably what one would look like," Rosalie spoke carefully but I could tell she wasn't worried about eggshells. She wanted me to know exactly how selfish I truly was.

"Look, I'm not telling you this because I want to hurt you, Bella. I love you, but I'm just hoping that if you won't knock this shit off for yourself, then maybe you'll do it for them, for us." Her fingers pulled at the blanket on her lap, the repetitive motion soothing the tears now spilling down my cheeks. "Because it will destroy them if something happens to you again. It will destroy him. Do you understand what I mean by this, Bella?"

I nodded, the tears falling more vehemently now, the guilt again heavy in my gut. I did know exactly what she meant. She meant that it could literally destroy him, it could be the spark that ignites the bomb he feared so much, the emotional stress and anxiety a risk factor in triggering an episode in predisposed individuals like Edward and Alice, individuals who have a family history of mental disorders like schizophrenia. Just another reason I was a toxin, just another way I could hurt him. And yet, here I remained, fully entwined in Edward's life, bleeding him dry and giving him nothing but pain and disappointment in return, a dying binary star ready to implode, taking down everything in my path. "I can't find my goodness, I lost my heart…"

I was a fucking black hole waiting to happen.

…

EPOV

"Come on Bella, we're going to be late," I stood at the bottom of the stairs with my keys ringed around my fingers, tapping impatiently on the doorframe. We needed to fucking go already and Bella had been dicking around all morning. She had cleaned out her drawers twice, collecting a bunch of clothes she claimed didn't fit her anymore and shoving them in a plastic bag in the back of her closet. She said it was extremely frustrating to feel good about any progress when everything she pulled from her drawers hung on her like a potato sack.

I tried to be supportive, telling her they looked fine, but it was impossible not to notice the fact that clothes which had fit her in November now sagged and draped, the extra fabric a reminder of the all the shit that had transpired since then.

Today, Bella had an appointment with one of her doctors, but I wasn't exactly sure which one as she hadn't been very explicit with the information. In fact, I seriously doubted she'd even be going to the appointment if I hadn't been home yesterday to receive the courteous reminder call. And she was flat-out stalling now, claiming she needed to fix her make up. Bella hardly ever wore make up. She didn't need to.

"Bella! Let's go!" I shouted again, another glance at the clock hanging in the living room telling me we were totally going to be late.

"Alright!" Bella came trudging down the stairs, her sneakers thudding against the wooden flooring. "I don't want to go," Bella whined, and I smiled apologetically. I knew exactly how she felt; a bunch of doctors telling you what you should be doing, what you're not doing, thinking that because they had been so thoroughly trained by experts they knew exactly how you were feeling. It was the same shit I had to deal with after my parents died.

"I know. But the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can go do something fun," I said. It was the middle of April, spring break, and we didn't have school. The weather had been pretty nice, actually, and the sun might even make an appearance today. I was thinking we could go to the beach or something. Things had been so heavy lately that I really missed just hanging out with Bella. I wanted to see her smile, not just her smart-ass smirk, but a real genuine because-I-feel-good smile. And maybe a laugh. Maybe we should go to see a funny movie. I hadn't seen her really laugh in almost a month.

"Alright, fine," she said exasperated as she snatched her coat off the coat rack beside the door and wrapped the red wool around before walking out the door.

We drove in silence to the hospital as she starred out the window, keeping her thoughts locked inside that complex brain of hers. My eyes kept finding a way to look at her, like out of the corner of my eye when I had to look over my shoulder or in the reflection of the windshield, but she just looked so unbelievably sad.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, unable to stand her silence any longer. I wondered where her mind was today.

"New York," she answered. This was not the answer I had been expecting at all. I had thought maybe she'd be thinking about the appointment. I was pretty sure she had a weight check today. She had worn her heaviest jeans and a thick sweater.

"What about New York?" I asked.

"I was just thinking how, sorry I moved out of state, is a great excuse to get out of these doctors' appointments," she said with a sigh. I hated that she had to do this, and if it were up to me I would eliminate the whole debacle immediately. But Carlisle claimed this was good for Bella, that it would help her, and that was always my primary concern; what was good for Bella was good for me.

"Look, I know it sucks. I went through the same shit when my parents died, only they put me on drugs that turned me into a zombie, and I hated it," I said, trying to recall that time in my life. It was like I didn't even experience it, like I was just looking in on someone else. Mindless, numb, disconnected from anything that mattered, it wasn't really a life, it was merely an existence, and a shitty one at that. I would much rather put up with the crippling ache of a storm if it meant I got to bask in the radiance of the sun.

"Yeah, well, they won't even give me drugs because they think I have a highly addictive personality" she mocked, using air quotes and everything. She turned so that now she was facing me, her teeth digging into her flushed bottom lip as she contemplated.

"What?" I asked, her curious eyes still fixated on the side of my face.

"How did you do it?" she asked. "How did you get out of it?"

"I told them what they wanted to hear," I said, shrugging my shoulders. I mean, it wasn't rocket science. They wanted a certain response, and all their questions and shit were meant to lead me in that path, anyway. I just got there a little sooner than anticipated. "And I got a hobby."

"Right, the cooking classes," Bella grinned. "I don't think they're going to let me off that easily." Her grin disappeared, the corners of her plump pink lips sagging and down-trodden.

"You've had a bit more to deal with than I did," I murmured.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "And it's my own damn fault. Why should they even waste their time trying to help me? They should help someone who deserves it."

"Knock it off. You can't be serious. You have a disease just like any other sick person who walks through those doors. You deserve their help as much as anyone else does," I said sternly. I fucking hated it when she talked like this, her words thick with guilt. It wasn't entirely her fault and I couldn't stand her taking all the blame.

"Did you just call me a sick person?" she teased, a small smile upon her lips.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and quickly parked so I could give this conversation the attention it deserved. We hadn't really talked about any of this, the miscarriage, the pills, the likelihood of children in our future, it had all just been glossed over and swept aside, and I didn't think we would be able to move forward until we got this shit out in the open. It was like a fucking tick, you know those blood sucking bugs that burrow in animals and shit. Anyway, that's what this was, a tick, burrowing and festering, and we both knew it was there, sucking away. We just needed to light that shit on fire and get it out. That's how they killed it on the Discovery Channel, at any rate.

Bella was still looking at me, her face shifting from amused to expectant to slightly abashed as I turned off the ignition. "I think we need to talk about this," I said quietly.

"What, me being a sick person? What's there to talk about?" Bella's fingers twisted together, her voice quiet in the small space. I could smell the lavender in the dark hair curling around her face, her chocolate eyes large and full of pupil. She knew what I meant but she was being stubborn, so I leaned in to kiss her stubborn lips. I brushed my hand across her stubborn cheek, holding her stubborn face in my palm.

"I love you, stubborn girl," I whispered, and her mouth parted slightly with her sharp inhale as tears silently rolled down her cheeks and dotted the upholstery as she leaned across the center console.

"I'm sorry, Edward. You deserve so much better than this…than me. I might not ever be fully healthy, you know. That doctor said that almost half of people with this never get rid of it," Bella mumbled, her nose inches from mine.

"It doesn't matter. We'll deal with it, whatever happens, we'll deal with it. I might be a schizo one day and you'll have to come visit me in a mental institution. Will you still come visit?" I asked her, trying to prove my point but completely serious in my questioning.

"Of course," she said indignantly. "But that's not the same, you can't control what happens to you chemically."

"Neither can you," I retorted.

"Okay. I can't ever give you a family. You could never have a child with me," Bella choked out, her hands wiping at her face as her tears flowed freely.

"I know that. But to be honest Bella, my genes are kind of already fucked. I mean, what if we had a child and then I developed schizophrenia? What if the child developed the disease? There are just too many risks and until I'm convinced there's no way I could pass this on to a child, they are not risks worth taking," I said quietly, wiping the salty sting from my eyes. "So, I guess I should be telling you that I can't ever give you a child and hoping that you'd still have me."

"Edward, you're going to be fine, you know that, right? I think that if you were going to develop this disease there would have been enough triggers that you would know by now," Bella responded.

"Maybe. Or maybe there just hasn't been a trigger big enough. I don't know, Bella. What is so shitty about this situation is that I could not know until it was already too late." I pulled her hand into mine, bringing it to my lips in an effort to bridge the space between us.

"But you could have children, someday," she insisted. "I mean, shit, guys can have kids until they die. Look at Hugh Hefner, he's like ninety and he has a teenager. What if when you're older you decide schizophrenia is no longer a threat and you want a child? I could never give that to you," Bella stressed, trying to get me to concede, and she had a good point but it was moot. It simply wasn't something I was willing to give up Bella for.

"And it would all be pointless without you. Why don't you understand that you are what is important in these scenarios. I could care less about everything else, Bella, it means nothing if I can't share it with you." I pressed my forehead to hers, inhaling her fresh scent and trying to soak up as much of her as I could.

"I could die, Edward," she whispered, her tears mixing with mine as I pressed my face against her cheek. It was something I had thought of while she was in the hospital. When I had found her, her body lifeless and her breathing shallow and so much blood, I didn't know if she would make it to the hospital. I had to consider the possibility of life without Bella, of living in a world where she didn't, and I came to the conclusion that it simply wouldn't be possible, my mind venturing to the very darkest of circumstances, and self-destruction would be the path to most easily follow. What good would this world hold for me without her? What place would I have here? I couldn't think of anything that would be worth sticking around for. Disease, mental illness, fatal injury, I knew I would welcome them all at that point.

But how could I say this to Bella without sounding overdramatic and ridiculous. I could hardly think it without rolling my eyes at myself, and I wouldn't ever want her to think that she was stuck with me because I'm some freak that couldn't handle a break up.

"I know." I knew this was a possibility and I accepted it as that, a possibility. I'm not going to play heroics and say I could save Bella, I had tried and I had failed. I couldn't make Bella go to her appointments. She had told me no more eggshells, so I had stopped thinking, I had stopped scheming, and I did what I felt like doing and I said what I felt like saying. I put out her pills and made her meals, and she had obliged so far, probably out of guilt or obligation, but I wasn't going to let it become a wedge between us. I made sure she was comfortable and happy - that was all I could do for her now. I knew all of this and still I was choosing to stay, hoping it would be enough but fully prepared if it wasn't.

Bella pressed her lips to mine, her hands reaching up to run through my hair and massage the back of my neck, and I eased into her touch, the tremendous weight of our discussion dissipating as she intensified the kiss. She licked at my lips, slipping her tongue into my mouth in slow and sensual swirls as she released all of her stress into this kiss. It was incredibly erotic, the way her tongue moved with mine and her hands gripped the back of my neck, tenderness thriving in every push and pull of her mouth. She eventually pulled away, placing a few small, soft kisses on my lips before a serene smile crept across her face.

"I'm really late for my appointment," Bella muttered, running a hand through her long hair. "Am I going to get in trouble?"

"No. You're eighteen, technically they can't make you go to any appointments," I told her, remembering that after my parents died, eighteen had seemed so coveted and so far away, and now it was almost over. Two more months and eighteen would be long gone, along with high school and, eventually, Forks. Hopefully we'd be able to leave all this behind us and start fresh in a new place, our new place.

"What? Why didn't you tell me that this earlier?" Bella asked, leaning away from me.

"You didn't ask. I can't keep track of all the stuff you do and do not know," I teased, flashing her my toothiest grin. "I thought you knew everything."

"Oh, shut up. Drive me somewhere fun, you promised fun for this afternoon," Bella said buckling her seatbelt.

"You're right, I did. Let's see, we could do movies or beach. Which would you prefer?" I asked her, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the parking spot.

"Both?" Bella asked, her eyebrows quirked as she questioned.

"Movies at the beach, coming right up," I responded, pulling the car out of the hospital parking lot and onto the highway towards La Push.

…

"This baby is fucking breech!" Rosalie exclaimed as she sank into the couch, her head leaning against the back of it as she felt her huge, gigantic boulder of a stomach. Emmett closed the front door behind her. Rosalie had just had her last regular appointment. She had one more week until her pregnancy was considered done, and shit, did she look it. I mean, you could see it all over her face, like a fucking neon flashing sign or something, I'm done.

Bella was curled into my side and she sat up as Rose sat down beside her, Emmett taking a seat in one of the chairs. He was also done. He had finished his final exam yesterday and driven straight here from school so he could be here for this appointment. He wouldn't be going back to Pullman until September.

"It means the baby is upside down," Emmett said. "So Rose is going to have a c-section."

"A c-section!" Rosalie exclaimed again, her hands pulling through her hair. "I can't believe this. This is your fault, you know." She pointed at Emmett, her eyes narrowed as she shook her blond head.

"What?" Emmett laughed, probably not the best reaction but I could certainly understand the hilarity. "How is this my fault?"

"I don't know," Rosalie muttered under her breath. "But I have to blame someone and since it's your spawn, you get the honors."

"My spawn, huh? That's pretty awesome," Emmett laced his fingers behind his head and Rosalie groaned.

"When are they going to do the surgery?" Bella asked.

"Tomorrow," Emmett said excitedly. "We have to be at the hospital at noon and they're going to do the surgery at three. It was the only time her doctor had available and they don't want to wait because they are afraid she'll go into labor and that would not be good."

"Wow, Emmett, I'm impressed. You got through that whole speech without one inappropriate comment. My baby boy's growing up," I said. He laughed, shoving me in the shoulder. Man, I was starting to get excited! He was going to meet his kid in just over twenty-four hours.

"Dude! I have been dying all afternoon. We were at the doctor's and she was doing the exam and I was totally going to ask if-"

"Emmett! Don't you dare. I know what you're going to say and I swear to God if I hear one more joke about my vagina, I am going to murder you," Rosalie said through clenched teeth.

"Babe, I'm only taking advantage of a highly comedic situation. Come on, it's all for the sake of comedy," Emmett said. "And because I love you so much. I wouldn't ever make fun of anyone else's vagina. I don't even want to think about anyone else's vagina. I love your vagina."

"Stop saying vagina!" Rosalie blurted, trying to suppress a grin as Bella erupted into giggles beside me. "Shit, you're like a bunch of twelve-year-olds." Rosalie liked to pretend she was so much more mature than the rest of us, but I knew that this was why she loved Emmett so much. He made her laugh, even when she didn't want to.

"Come on, Rose! This is exciting, your baby is going to be here tomorrow. Tomorrow!" Bella said, her hand clutching Rosalie's arm, trying to make her see the positive side of the situation.

"Oh, and Rosalie can't eat anything for twelve hours before the surgery, so we want to have an epic dinner. I'm thinking, like, steak and fried shrimp and corn bread and lasagna, just like a huge meal, kind of like a last supper," Emmett said to me, knocking his fist into my shoulder. Man, I had forgotten how physically demanding being around Emmett was.

"I seriously doubt they had lasagna at the last supper," I quipped, returning the shove.

"But they probably had corn bread," Bella added.

"And don't forget fried shrimp. They totally had fried shrimp," Rosalie chimed in, exacting her revenge for the gratuitous vagina jokes.

"You know what I meant," Emmett said, dismissing our attempts to insult him.

Rosalie stayed up all night to get things ready for the baby: she installed the baby seat in her car, packed bags, cleaned the room for the hundredth time, sterilized bottles and folded laundry, even rolled the little tiny socks into bundles before placing them among the other pastels in the dresser. She started vacuuming around two in the morning trying to eradicate the last remaining dust particles from the room, and by the time she had finally fallen asleep, she was ready to meet her new baby.

Bella and I arrived at the hospital about two in the afternoon. It was a Saturday so Carlisle and Jasper were already seated in the waiting room, the two of them looking bored as all hell.

"Hey guys, big day huh?" I greeted them as we walked into the small sitting room. This room gave me the fucking creeps, I hated it. The last time I was here I felt my life slipping away. It was not a feeling I wanted to revisit.

"Hey strangers!" Carlisle stood and I went to shake his hand but he surprised me by hugging me instead, his exuberance over the occasion evident in his public displays of affection as he pulled Bella into a fierce squeeze as well.

"Have you heard anything?" Bella asked as we took our seats, the plastic creaking beneath us.

"The girls wanted to say good luck, they're in there with her right now if you want to go say hi. She's in room 1777" Jasper answered, casually pointing to the set of double doors. "They have her in, like, this holding tank before they release her into the operating room."

I laughed at Jasper's description. He still harbored a bit of resentment about the whole Rosalie situation. I guess when you've despised someone since birth it's a little tough to automatically start loving them again. Sometimes I forgot they were even related let alone shared the womb.

"Lucky sevens, huh? I'm going to go say hi," Bella said, placing her tote bag on the chair and walking through the double doors.

"Uncle Jasper," I said, shaking my head in disbelief as Jasper smirked, laughing at his soon-to-be title.

"It's a trip man, that's for sure," Jasper responded as he chewed a piece of gum, cracking and popping it between his teeth.

"Did you call your parents?" I asked, not quite sure how the relationship had progressed, if at all, since the two Hale kids had jumped ship. You'd think as a parent you'd get the fucking hint if both your kids called you out on your shit, but these people had skulls of steel, thick-headed and stubborn, the very worst kind of ignorance.

"No point," Jasper said shrugging his shoulders and crossing his ankle over his knee. "They wouldn't take my call even if I tried. I don't know, maybe someone else should try to call. I don't think Rosalie really cares if they know, actually. They're like poison, dude, and you don't let your kids play with poison, you know?"

I nodded, thinking that they really didn't deserve to know anyway. They definitely hadn't earned the title of grandparents.

"So you're all set for Seattle?" I asked as I pulled the threads from a tiny hole in the knee of my jeans. Jaspers leg twitched as he nervously chomped on his gum and answered, his voice quick and to the point.

"Yep. I found an apartment close to campus, so no car, no problem. I'm telling you, public transportation is so underrated." Jasper still didn't have a car and took the bus to get to work. He loved it, though, claiming he found all kinds of artistic inspiration on his route. Plus, he was proud of the fact that he wasn't "handing his paycheck over to government fat cats".

"But you guys will get lots of experience with that in New York," Jasper said. It was true, we wouldn't even have a car in New York. Just one more thing to get used to, I guess. Jasper took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as he looked around. I'd never seen Jasper this keyed-up.

"What's the matter with you? Are…are you worried, man?" I asked with a smile, Jasper's concern for his sister surprising the shit out of me.

"They're fucking cutting her open dude, of course I'm worried. I looked up videos of c-sections last night on YouTube. That shit is intense," Jasper said defensively, and I chuckled as he tried to calm himself down.

The girls soon returned, Esme kissing the top of my head before sitting next to Carlisle and pulling his hand into hers, her eyes glistening with tears as joy, excitement, and a bit of nerves bubbled around her. Alice hugged me, her mouth moving a hundred miles an hour as she talked about all kinds of useless shit, saying the baby would be a Taurus, the stubborn bull, and how Rosalie was going to have her work cut out for her. The way I saw it, all parents had their work cut out for them.

Bella sat across from me, her feet stretched across the path to meet mine. She kicked my foot, her sneaker tapping into the side of mine, and I gave her a smile. She returned the grin but her eyes remained detached and my mind immediately went to our conversation at the hospital parking lot. This must be difficult for her, first to be in the hospital again after being contained here for two weeks of invasive procedures, and then for one of her best friends to be having surgery, something which was always distressing. I also knew Bella felt bad about not being able to have kids and the fact that we were here, waiting to welcome Rosalie's baby into the world, had to be tearing her up. I thought maybe I should take her home.

I moved across the space and took the seat beside her instead, and she turned to face me with tears filling her eyes. I pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press my lips to the soft skin of her cheek, letting my lips linger in her warmth.

"Do you want to go?" I asked her quietly, and she shook her head no, quick and strong.

"I want to stay," she whispered back, the tears slipping across her cheeks, and I used my thumb to wipe them away. She leaned into me with her head resting on my shoulder and we waited.

And waited.

Finally, the double doors opened and a familiar face clothed in blue scrubs appeared, the stupid dimpled grin fucking beaming at us as he approached.

Esme jumped to her feet, her hands covering her mouth, the tears already streaming down her face.

"I have a son."

Emmett could barely get the words out before Alice screamed in piercing elation as she reveled in her confirmed prediction before bursting into tears and jumping onto the chair to hug Emmett. He swung her around, his loud laugh filling the room. He set her down and turned to face his mother.

"Mom," he mumbled, and his face crumbled as he wept. Esme threw herself at him, her small arms wrapping around his large body, and Carlisle rushed to join them. Alice hugged a stunned and obviously relieved Jasper.

Emmett hugged each of us, his happiness infectious as his hands waved through the air while giving us the stats: baby boy, seven pounds, seven ounces, twenty one and a half inches long.

"Lucky sevens," Bella muttered, a tiny smile on her sullen face.

"Name?" Alice asked, exasperated.

Emmett stilled and focused his eyes on Bella, his tone hesitant as he walked over to us. "Um, Rosalie wanted to name him Charlie, well Charles actually, if that's okay with you, Bella. She's really grateful, and so am I, for all the help you've given her, for letting her live with you in Charlie's house, and besides all that, she really likes the name," Emmett smiled as Bella nodded, her eyes blinking furiously. "If it's weird, we totally understand. She has a back-up name and everything."

"It's not weird, it's perfect," Bella managed to mumble, and I gripped her hand, a little stunned by this announcement. Beside me, Bella folded her arms across her chest trying to suppress the emotion, torn between her own grief and her love for her friend, the bittersweet conflict manifesting itself in tears falling from her wide eyes. I pulled her into my chest, whispering I love you into her hair and letting her cry into my shoulder, her body shaking in my arms as I tried to absorb her grief. Whatever she felt, I felt it too. I wanted to feel it, to commiserate with her, and then to rejoice with her and celebrate our family.

Rosalie was doing fine, she was in recovery and wouldn't be out for at least another hour. Emmett disappeared again behind the doors to go bond with his son and I found myself anxious to see the new Cullen, my family a flurry of conversation as we waited for our chance to meet the baby. They finally let us into the room a few hours later.

The room looked exactly like Bella's had, same pasty color palette, same pastel geometric border wrapping around the walls. Rosalie was in the bed with numerous pillows propping her up and an I.V. in her arm. Her face was drained and her eyes were closed, her head leaning back to rest against the adjustable bed. She looked fucking spent, just completely exhausted, and we walked gingerly into the room so we wouldn't wake her.

Emmett sat in the corner of the room, in his arms a tiny bundle wrapped tightly in a striped blanket. The baby, Charlie, was asleep, his plump face serene and his little pink lips pursed, with his hands folded across his chest. He looked like a little old man, all wrinkled and creased, his skin papery and powdered as Emmett touched his cheek softly.

Emmett stood up and handed little Charlie to Esme, her sure, capable hands quick to receive the bundle. She cooed and nuzzled and pulled off his knit cap to expose a fine swirl of honey-colored hair. Alice peeked over her shoulder and commented on his tiny finger nails and ears, and how he smelled of baby soap and how soft his newly exposed skin was. They each took turns holding him, even Jasper, though he awkwardly sat in the chair and let the baby lie in his lap.

Bella took her turn in the chair, little Charlie placed in her arms as he squirmed, his hand reaching out to wrap around her finger. She shushed and swayed, the movement lulling him to calm, his eyes big as he gazed at the large brown tear-filled eyes in front of him.

"Hi Charlie," Bella whispered. "I'm your auntie. Not really, but that's what you have to call me, I just decided." She pressed her lips to his forehead before looking up at me expectantly.

"Do you want to hold him?" she smiled, standing up and bringing him to me. I didn't really know what to do so I just let her put the warm bundle of blankets in my arms.

"Support his head," Esme said quietly, moving my arms into the proper position while I stood absolutely still, the fragile little person asleep again as I looked at his old man face. He had the features, the Cullen features, I was sure of it, and I marveled at the familiarity. The genetic pool really was a remarkable thing, deep and varied, yet all stemming from that paper-doll prototype. I suddenly realized I was moving, rocking back and forth, and I froze and wondered how long I'd been doing that. I looked up at Bella, her eyes like smooth glass, and the warmth I felt in that moment began to overwhelm me.

I wanted this, this feeling of family, of rebirth, the innocence of the budding life before me, the quiet peaceful look glowing in Bella's features right now. I wanted it so badly that every cell in my body, every beat of my heart, every electrical impulse jolting through my brain felt like a lightening bolt seeking the earth. I ached for this. I wanted Bella forever. I wanted her to be my friend, my soul, my very life. I wanted to marry her, in a meadow somewhere, surrounded by trees and flowers as we vowed to love each other always and profess to the world, this is who I have chosen to love and this is the one who has chosen to love me. I thought about my parents and their devotion to each other and suddenly it dawned on me why my mom had accepted his psychosis, why she hadn't left him, why she chose to save him time and time again even though it hurt like hell.

Acceptance. Despite all our flaws, despite the ways in which we hurt ourselves and each other, Bella and I had always accepted one another. I knew she was still sick and there was a chance she might not ever get better, and she knew I might be crazy one day. I wanted that acceptance for as long as I could have it, this life, the next, through heaven or hell or reincarnation, whatever it was that happens when you die, I could care less as long as I was joined with her, my elemental match, cut from the same cloth, cosmic or earth bound, I wanted it all. And I wanted to tell her, the need so deep I felt physically sick at the fact that she didn't know this yet.

I wanted to stay in this very moment, this soft, tiny body warming my arms, my family gathered around us, and Bella finally exuding contentment. This was how I wanted to remember my life in Forks, this feeling right now, and I stayed completely still trying to remain in the moment for just a while longer, trying to absorb it all, the smell of the baby soap, the weight in my arms, the swelling in my heart.

Alice walked over to me and gently stripped my arms of the little life, and I actually startled. My arms went cold, the ghost of warmth the baby provided dissipating quickly, and I had to take a moment to collect myself.

Bella watched me from across the room and I ached to begin planning and creating our life together. I knew we'd never have this moment exactly, but we could have others: waking up in our small apartment in New York, coffee in street cafes in Italy, an exchange of vows in a meadow, unpacking boxes in our first home. And I wanted to start right now. I knew we were young and people would think we were stupid. I knew we'd have to wait a while but I didn't fucking care.

My mind drifted to an oblong diamond set amongst swirling filigree and tapering to a thin band, stashed away in my dresser at Carlisle's. It was a ring I'd seen pulling through copper hair, the plaits folding over each other onto strong swift hands. I'd seen it twirl as a wooden spoon stirred sauce on the stovetop, and glint in the sun as sure hands planted and replanted delicate blossoms that never survived the winters of Chicago. I'd seen it frantically turn a lock, that ringed finger disappearing behind the plank of dark wood as it attended to my father.

It was my mother's ring. And now, it was Bella's.

I was going to marry Isabella Swan.

…

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A/N:

Break out the cigars!

Joni Songs Referenced:

Circle Game

A Melody in Your Name

Just Like This Train

Thank you for reading, my dears. Until we meet again…