If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Preface

All our attempts at subterfuge had been in vain.

With ice in my heart, I watched him prepare to defend me. His intense concentration betrayed no hint of doubt, though he was outnumbered. I knew that we could expect no help—at this moment, his family was fighting for their lives just as surely as he was for ours.

Would I ever learn the outcome of that other fight? Find out who the winners and the losers were? Would I live long enough for that?

The odds of that didn't look so great.

Black eyes, wild with their fierce craving for my death, watched for the moment when my protector's attention would be diverted. The moment when I would surely die.

Somewhere, far, far away in the cold forest, a wolf howled.

Chapter 1: Ultimatums

Mir,

-I don't know why you're making Charlie carry these notes to Billy like we're babies—if I wanted to talk to you I would answer the-

-I love you too, but-

-We're mortal enemies. It is that simple-

-I know I'm hurting you, but there's no way-

-It makes it worse to see you again, it hurts to write to you. And not see you-

Yeah, I miss you too. A lot. More than anything. But it doesn't change much. I'm sorry

Jake

I ran my fingers across the page, feeling the dents where he had pressed the pen to the paper so hard that it had nearly broken through. I could picture him writing this—scrawling the angry letters in his rough handwriting, slashing through line after line when the words came out wrong, maybe even snapping the pen in his big hand; that would explain the ink splatters. I could imagine the frustration pulling his black eyebrows together and crumpling his forehead. If I'd been there, I might have laughed. You're too pretty to have to use your brain, I would have told him Just tell me.

Laughing was the last thing I felt like doing now, but it was the only sound I wanted to hear from him. His answer to my pleading note—passed from my father to his to him, just like we were babies, as he'd reminded—was no surprise. I'd known what it would say before I'd opened it.

What was surprising is how much he'd crossed out, and how much it hurt. More than that, behind each angry beginning lurked a vast pool of hurt. Reminding me of how much I'd hurt him. His pain was deeper than mine.

While I was pondering this, I caught the unmistakable scent of a smoking burner rising from the kitchen. In other house, the fact that someone other than me and my step-mother was cooking might not be cause for panic.

I shoved the wrinkled paper into the back pocket of my jeans and ran, making down stairs in nick of time.

The jar of spaghetti sauce, my little brother had put in the microwave was only on its first revolution when I yanked the door open and pulled it out.

"Dad you're supposed to watch him!"

My dad returned into the kitchen, pasta spoon hand.

"What did he do?"

"He put the spaghetti sauce in the microwave."

"No I didn't." Little Mikey said, haunted at my betrayal.

"Mikey," my father raised his left eyebrow, "I told you to watch the spaghetti."

"I wanted to help." He said forgetting his lie. "Who's winning?"

I opened the metal lid, and poured half the sauce into a bowl, and then put the bowl inside the microwave and jar back in the fridge. I fixed the time and pressed start.

"California," My dad said with frown, "Peach, how are the noodles."

I looked at the pot on the stove—the source of the smell that had alerted me.

"Burning." I said, I found the spare spoon and stirred the mushy hunk that was scaled to the bottom.

My father sighed.

"California?" Mikey said in the same tone, "I thought New York was gonna win."

"Me too, buddy."

"Stop hating on California," I turned back to the stove, "So what's all this anyway?"

"Mikey, go check to score," my father ordered casually.

Mikey scampered to the TV room. My dad folded his arms across his chest and glared out the back windows into the sheeting rain, "Don't know what you're talking about."

So I stood over the pot, mystified. Charlie Swan cooking? And what was with the attitude? My dad had stopped being angry at my motorcycle a little while ago. Edward—my…boyfriend—wasn't here yet, and he usually reserved his irritation for his benefit, doing his best to illustrate the theme of "unwelcome" with every word and posture. His effort was unnecessary—Edward knew exactly what my dad was thinking without the show.

The word boyfriend had me chewing on the inside of my cheek with a familiar pit in my gut. It wasn't the right word. It wasn't the right description, for me at least.

Edward had another word in mind, and that word was the source of tension I felt. It made anxiety twist in my stomach just to think about it to myself.

Fiancée. Gross. I gagged at the thought.

"Did I miss something? Since when do you make dinner?" I asked my father. The pasta lobbed bobbed in the boiling water as I poked it. "Or try to make dinner. P is coming home in like fifteen minutes."

My father shrugged. "There's no law that says I can't cook in my own home for my own children."

"Well, you are the cop." I replied, grinning as I eyed the badge pinned to his leather jacket.

"Good one." He shrugged out of the jacket as if my glance had reminded him he still had it on, and hung it on the peg reserved for his gear. His gun belt was already slung in place—he hadn't felt the need to wear it to the station for a few weeks. There had been no more disturbing disappearances to trouble the small town of Forks, Washington, no more sightings of the giant, mysterious wolves in the ever-rainy woods…

I prodded the noodles in silence guessing that my father would get around to talking about what was bothering him in his own time. My father, not a man of many words, but the fact that he had put the effort into trying orchestrate a sit-down dinner with me made it clear there were an uncharacteristic number of words on his mind.

My soon to be step mother, Priscilla walked into the door, kissed my father, my little brother—her adopted son—, then my cheek as she went to change out of her nurses uniform and into casual wear.

I glanced at the clock routinely—something I did every few minutes around this time. Less than a half an hour to go now.

Afternoons were the hardest part of my day. Ever since my former boyfriend and best friend (and werewolf), Jacob Black, had informed me about the motorcycle I'd been riding on the down low—a betrayal he had devised in order to get me grounded so that I couldn't spend time with my forced fiancée (and vampire), Edward Cullen—Edward had only been allowed to see me once a week from 7 till 9:30 pm, always inside the confines of my home and under the supervision of my father and/or soon-to-be-stepmother's unfailing glare.

This was only allowed because my father was vehemently against solitude confinement and isolation as a punishment. But since I'd left the country on a three-day European hell-fest and one episode of cliff diving, my father was now entertaining the dark side of social isolation.

I still saw Edward at school, because there wasn't anything my parents could do about that. And the, Edward spent most nights in my room, too, but that wasn't exactly well-known information either. Edward's ability to easily climb and silently enter through my second-story window was almost as useful as his ability to read my father's mind.

I wanted him there, and I didn't want him there. The hours away from Edward made me restless, anxious. Still, I endured all of it; the punishment, the anxiety, the restlessness without complaining. Because I deserved it, because I couldn't bear to hurt anyone else. Because I always hurt the ones I loved.

I hurt my mother by leaving her when she was pregnant, I hurt my father by running away a couple of times, I hurt my ex-boyfriend by running off to Italy to save my now forced fiancée, I hurt my father by intentionally secluding myself, I hurt the pack by leaving. I hurt my grades because I missed a test. I hurt people. And I deserved to suffer for it.

I would hurt my father again, as a permanent separation hovered, invisible to my family, so close to the horizon.

My dad sat down at the table with a grunt, my little brother followed in suit, and unfollowed the damp newspaper there; handing the comic section to Little Mikey. Within seconds, my father was clucking his tongue in disapproval.

"I don't know why you read the news, Charlie. It only ticks you off." Prissy said walking into the kitchen. She'd stopped dying her hair shiny copper, letting the natural auburn grow out. Her hair was still tied up, and a sharpie was still behind her ear.

"What's cooking, good-lookin?" She asked me.

"I'm rescuing pasta dad made."

"Dad cooked?" she put her hand over her heart, "A man who can cook, and read the newspaper, I clearly have won the lottery."

"Dad can't cook." I reminded her.

"This is why everyone wants to live in a small town! Ridiculous." He grumbled at the newspaper.

"What have big cities done wrong now?" Prissy asked taking plates down to help set the table.

"Seattle's making a run for murder capital of the Pacific. Five unsolved homicides in the last two weeks. Can you imagine living like that?"

"I think Los Angeles is higher up the homicide list." And I have been close to being a murder victim after I'd moved to this safe town. In fact, I was still on several hit lists. I tightened my fist around the spoon, my nails digging into my skin.

"What's homicide?" Little Mikey asked wandering in from the family room. Prissy's gingham apron reached his ankles, his earnest attempt to be a chef.

"It's work talk, bud."

"Well you couldn't pay me enough." Priscilla said, placing a glass in front of my father's plate.

I added a little oil to the pasta water, and when that didn't unstick the noodles I gave up and started to serve it; I had to use a steak knife to cut the spaghetti for us, while my father watched with a sheepish expression.

"What kind of pizza?" Priscilla asked as she lifted the phone of the receiver. "Large with peppers?"

"Ew." Mikey wrinkled his nose, "Peppers are gross."

"One large with onions and peppers, and one medium with extra cheese." My dad told her and she relayed the order to the restaurant.

"You're picking it up." She told him, when she hung up.

"Why not, Peach?"

"She tried to save the pasta."

"We were watching the game," my dad elbowed Mikey carefully, "Right, it was very important."

"Yeah, mom! New York beat California last minute!"

The room stood still, as the pasta sauce in the pot boiled, and the lumpy noodles congealed together. Priscilla looked from Mikey to Charlie, and Charlie looked back at her. All of us shocked at what he just said.

"What? What did I say?" He asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, baby," she said softly, "You didn't say anything wrong."

I could see her eyes glass over with tears she dared not pay attention to. Mom, he'd called her mom, this was the first time he'd called her mom. He'd always called her P, ever since he was adopted, even during the visitation she was P.

"Can we have desert first?"

"Of course," she nodded, "Of course we can."

"Dad why don't you and I get the pizzas and leave Mikey and—" I turned to look at her, "—mom to make brownies or something."

…

We had just gotten back into the car, Priscilla's car because he didn't want to take cruiser. I had the pizzas in my lap, the heat from the oven smoldering my legs.

"You're right," my father said, "I did have a reason for cooking. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh boy." I looked at the rain outside the car, "And now I can't run."

He nodded, his eye brows pulling together as we drove out of the parking lot. "Yeah. I thought making dinner would soften you up."

"Oh…thank you. What do you need, Dad?"

"Well, it's about Jacob."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Easy, Peach. I know your upset that he told on you, but it was the right thing. He was being responsible."

"I'm not mad because he's a little baby tattletale. I have my motorcycle license. I just don't want to talk about him."

I don't want to talk about him. My former best friend who was once my boyfriend, who I could trust unflappably, to be there for me. Who was now…my what? My enemy? The person who hated me the most?

"Don't get mad at me, okay?"

"Mad? I'm not mad."

"Well, it's about Edward, too."

My eyes narrowed, "I'm not talking about him either."

"I let him in the house, don't I?" Charlie said gruffly.

"Yes." I admitted. While my lockdown was only for the duration of the school year, "But I've been good lately." I said desperate to change the subject, "I should be let out of house eventually."

"Well, that's kind of where I was heading with this…" And then my father cracked a grin, looking—for a second—twenty years younger.

I saw a dim glimmer of possibility in that smile, but I proceeded slowly, "I'm confused, Dad. Are we talking about Jacob, or Edward, or me being grounded?"

The grin flashed again, "Sort of all three."

"And how do they relate?" I asked, cautiously.

"Okay." He sighed, "So I'm thinking you deserve parole for good behavior. For a teenager, you're pretty good at understanding consequences."

My eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? I'm free?"

Where was this coming from? I'd been positive that I would be under house arrest until I actually moved out, and Edward hadn't picked up any wavering in my father's thoughts…

My father moved one hand off the wheel, and raised one hand. "Conditionally."

"That's fine!"

"Miri, this is more than a request than a demand, okay? You're free. But I'm hoping you'll use that freedom…judiciously."

"I don't know what that means."

He sighed again. "I know you'll probably spend all of your time with Edward—"

"No I won't." I interjected, "I have other friends." Alice, Edward's sister had no hours of visitation, she came and went as she pleased. My parent's were putty in her hands.

Her biggest chore was watching me, of course, I was there to make sure that I wasn't alone while the Vampire Mafia and/or Victoria wouldn't descend upon me and kill me. And of course, hanging out: make overs and stuff.

"That's true." He said, "But you have other friends besides the Cullens, Peach. Or you used to."

We both stared out the front windshield for a long moment.

"When was the last time you spoke to Angela Weber?" he threw at me.

"Friday at lunch," I answered immediately.

Before Edward's return, my friend group had polarized into two groups. I liked to think of them as the secret squirrels vs the chatty chipmunks. Simply Squirrels and Chipmunks worked, too. The squirrels were Angela, her steady boyfriend Ben Cheney, and Mike Newton; these there had generously forgiven me for isolating myself and only talking to my best friend, Lizzie, from my hometown of Ivywood, California. Jessica Stanley was the core of the chipmunks, and almost everyone else, including my somewhat friend in Forks, Lauren Mallory, seemed content to go along with both parties (walking the delicate line of pro-Miri and anti-Miri).

With Edward back at school, the dividing line was more distinct with Lauren going permanently anti-Miri (she'd had a crush on Edward long before I had started dating him, and while we might be friends if I weren't with him—in whatever capacity that was—our straining friendship was not likely survive.)

Edward's return had also taken its toll on Mike's friendship, but Angela was unswervingly loyal, and Ben followed her lead. Despite the natural aversion humans felt toward the Cullens. Angela dutifully sat beside Alice every day at lunch. After a few weeks, Angela even looked comfortable there. It was difficult not to be charmed by the Cullens—once one gave them the chance to be charming.

"Outside of school?" My father asked, pulling into the drive way.

"I haven't seen anyone outside school. Dad, you grounded me, remember? And Angela has Ben. If I'm really free," I added, "maybe we could polycule."

"Very funny." My dad held the door open and I walked inside.

I placed the pizzas on the table, while Prissy and Little Mikey moved their ice cream sundae bowls into the sink.

"You and Jake used to be joined at the hip and now—" He lifted an onion and green pepper pizza out of the box and placed it on a plate for me. He took a regular plain pizza for my brother, and an onion and pepper pizza for himself and Prissy. "You guys go watch in front of the TV, we'll join you in a second."

They left the room, and a moment later we heard the blare of the TV.

"What about him?" I cut. My father hadn't known about my relationship with Jake, as far as he knew he were best friends. We were, which is why it hurt to talk about him. Why it hurt so bad that he didn't want to talk to me, because no matter how I was feeling I hurt Jake.

"I don't think you should dump all your other friends for your boyfriend, Peach." He spoke in a stern voice, then bit into his pizza.

"Edward is not my boyfriend." I reminded.

"Regardless, it's not nice, and I think your life would be better balanced if you kept some other people in it. What happened last September..."

I flinched.

"Well," he said defensively. "If you'd had more of a life outside Edward Cullen, it might not have been like that."

"I'm over this conversation."

"My point is that you need to use your new freedom to see your other friends, too. Keep it balanced."

"Any specific quotas?"

He made a face, but shook his head. "I don't want to make this complicated. Just don't forget your friends…"

It was a dilemma I was already struggling with. My friends. The people who, for their own safety, should be kept safe away from me. People who could never see me again after graduation.

So what was the best course of action? Spend time with them while I could? Or start the separation now so they wouldn't miss me when I disappeared.

"…particularly Jacob," my dad added.

A greater dilemma than the first. It took me a moment to find the right words. "Jacob might not want to hang out again."

"The Blacks are practically family, Miri," he said. "And Jacob has been a very, very good friend to you."

"I know." I looked down at the pizza on my plate.

"Don't you miss him at all?" my dad asked, frustrated.

My throat felt swollen I had to clear it twice before I spoke. "Yeah," I said still looking down. "A lot."

"Then why is it difficult?"

It wasn't something I was at liberty to explain. It was against the rules for normal human people like me and my dad to know about clandestine world full of myths and monsters that existed secretly around us. I knew all about that world. And I was in no small amount of trouble as a result. I wasn't about to get my father in the same trouble.

"With Jake…there's a conflict." I said slowly. "About the friendship thing. It doesn't seem to be enough." I lied. Jake and I had been dating, but broke up because Edward had come back. And also because Jacob's werewolf pack bitterly hated Edward's vampire family—and therefore me, too, as I was being made to choose between joining the family or dying. It wasn't something that I could explain in a note. I had to tell him in person. But my plan to talk to him in person had not gone over well with the vampires.

"Isn't Edward up for a little healthy competition?" My dad said sarcastically.

"I'm not fucking back together with Edward." I shot my dad a dark look.

"You're hurting Jake's feelings avoiding him like this. He'd rather be just friends than nothing."

Oh, now I was avoiding him?

"When? When have I been fucking ignoring him? I've been grounded!" I put the plate on the counter, "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"The subject mighty have come up today with Billy…" My dad looked embarrassed now.

"You and Billy are such gossips." I complained and took a bite of my pizza.

"Billy's worried about Jacob." My dad said. "Jake's having a hard time right now…he's depressed."

I winced, because of course he was. Because I hurt him as bad as I did.

"And then you were always so happy after spending the day with Jake." My dad sighed.

"I know." I looked at my dad, "Balance right."

"And Jacob." He insisted.

"I'll try."

"Good. Find that balance, Miri. And, oh, yeah, you've got some mail." My dad said closing the subject, with no attempt at subtlety. "It's by the stove."

I didn't move, my thoughts twisting into snarls around Jake's name. It was most likely junk mail; I'd just gotten a package from my mom yesterday and I wasn't expecting anything else.

My father shoved his chair away from the table and stretched as he got to his feet. He took his plate to the sink, but before he went into the family room with Little Mikey and Prissy. He tossed the thick envelope at me. The letter skidded across the table and thunked into my elbow.

"Thanks." I muttered, puzzled by his pushiness. Then I saw the return address-the letter was from the University of Alaska Southeast. "That was quick. I thought I missed the deadline on that one, too."

My dad chuckled.

I flipped the envelope over and then glared at him "It's open."

"I was curious."

"Curiosity is a federal crime, Chief."

"Just read it."

I pulled out the letter, a booklet of classes, and some more papers.

"Congratulations," he said before I could read anything. "You're first acceptance."

"Thanks, Dad."

"We should talk about tuition. But I've got money saved up—"

"Hey, hey, none of that. I'm not touching your retirement, Dad. Or your wedding savings. I've got money saved from working. My own college fund." There wasn't a lot.

My dad frowned. "Some of these places are pretty pricey, Peaches. I want to help. You don't have to go all the way to Alaska just because it's cheaper."

It wasn't cheaper, not at all. But it was far away, and Juneau had an average of three hundred twenty-one overcast days per year. The former was my prerequisite, the latter Edward's.

"I've got this covered. Besides there's financial aid out there. There's scholarships and loans. It's easy to get loans. I know like three sharks in Ivywod." Which was a bluff. I didn't know any loan sharks in Ivywood. And I hadn't done any research on how to get loans.

"So…," My dad began, and then he pursed his lips and looked away.

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just…" He frowned. "Just wondering what…Edward's plans are for next year?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Well?"

Three quick raps on the door saved me. My dad rolled his eyes, as I jumped up from the table.

"Coming!" I called while my dad mumbled "go away". I ignored him and went to the door to let Edward in.

…

Time had not made me immune to the perfection of his face, and I was sure that I would never take any aspect of him for granted. My eyes traced over his pale features; the hard square jaw, the softer curve of his full lips—twisted up in a crooked smile, the straight line of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the smooth marble span of his forehead—partially obscured by a tangle of rain-darkened bronze hair…

I saved his eyes for last, knowing that when I looked at him, I would lose my backbone. They were wide, warm with liquid gold, and framed by a thick fringe of black lashes. Staring into his eyes always made me feel safe. Like, I was the only person he was seeing.

It was a face any male model in the world would trade his soul for. Of course, that might be exactly the asking price: a soul.

But I didn't believe in that nonsense, vampirism and soul trade. But then I felt guilty, because that's what Edward believed—vampirism was eternal damnation. And then I was glad, that I was the one person immune whose thoughts were mostly immune to Edward.

I reached for his hand, and sighed when his cold fingers found mine. His touch was light and relief filtered through me, as if I had been tense before.

"Hey," I smiled a little at him. Then I hated myself for smiling.

He raised our interlaced fingers to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. "How was your afternoon?"

"Slow as hell."

"For me, as well."

He pulled my wrist up to his face, our hands twisted together. His eyes closed as his nose skimmed along the skin there, and he smiled gently without opening them. Enjoying the sexy smell of my smelly, smelly blood.

I knew that the scent of my blood—so much more tempting to him than any other person's blood—caused him actual pain from the burning thirst it engendered. But he didn't seem to shy away from it as much as he once had. I could only imagine the Herculean effort behind his simple gesture.

I heard my father approaching then, stamping his feet on the way to express his customary displeasure with my guest. Edward's eyes snapped open and he let our hands fall, keeping them twined.

"Good evening, Sir," Edward said, flawlessly polite.

Charlie Swan grunted at him, and then stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He was taking the idea of paternal supervision to extremes lately.

"I brought another set of applications," Edward told me then, holding a stuff manila envelope. He was wearing a roll of stamps like a ring around his little finger.

I frowned. How were there any colleges left that I hadn't applied to already? And how did he keep finding loophole openings? It was so late in year.

He smiled as if he could read my thoughts; they must have been obvious on my face. Or he heard a snippet of my thoughts. "There are still a few open deadlines. And a few places willing to make exceptions."

I could just imagine the motivations behind such exceptions. And the dollar amounts involved.

"I'm not Lori Loughlin-ing." I said pointedly.

Edward laughed, "No nothing like that, there are late start dates that are still accepting students. Shall we work on some now?" He asked towing me to the kitchen table.

My father huffed and followed behind, though he could hardly complain about the activity on tonight's agenda. He'd been pestering me to make a decision about college on a daily basis.

I cleared the table quickly while Edward organized an intimidating stack of applications. When I moved the pizza boxes to the counter, Edward raised an eyebrow at the pot of lumpy noodles on the stove.

"Speaking of college applications, Edward," Dad said, his tone even more sullen—he tried to avoid addressing Edward directly, and when he had to, it exacerbated his bad mood. "Peach and I were just talking about next year. Have you decided where you're going to school?"

Edward smiled at my father, his voice friendly, "Not yet. I received a few acceptance letters, but I'm still weighing my options."

"Where have you been accepted?" My dad pressed.

"Syracuse…Harvard…Dartmouth…and I just got accepted to the University of Alaska Southeast today." Edward turn his face slightly to the side he could wink at me. He didn't have to antagonize my dad like that. I slide down in my seat, pressing my food against his gently, then withdrew my shoe roughly scuffing the top of his.

"Harvard? Dartmouth?" my dad mumbled, unable to conceal his awe. "Well that's pretty… that's something. Yeah, but the University of Alaska…you wouldn't really consider that when you could go Ivy League. I mean, your father would want you to…"

"Carlisle's always happy with whatever I choose to do," Edward told him serenely. Then gave me a tight smile, hopefully a silent agreement that he would stop antagonizing. Though I wasn't a mindreader.

My dad harrumphed.

"That makes two of us," I said in desperate to get them away from each other.

"What, Peach?" Edward cocked his head, gently to the side.

I pointed to the thick envelope on the counter. "I just got my acceptance to the University of Alaska!"

"Congratulations!" He grinned. "What a coincidence."

My dad's eyes narrowed and he glared back and forth between the two of us. "Fine," he muttered after a minute. "I'm going to watch the game with P and Mikey, Peach. Nine-thirty."

His usual parting command.

"Um, Dad? Remember the discussion about my freedom…?"

He sighed, "Right. Okay, ten-thirty. You still have a curfew on school nights."

"Miri's no longer grounded?" Edward asked. Though I knew he wasn't really surprised, I couldn't detect any false note of the sudden excitement in his voice.

"Conditionally," My dad corrected through his teeth. "What's it to you?"

I frowned at my dad, but he didn't see.

"It's just good to know," Edward said, "Alice has been itching for a shopping partner, and I'm sure Miri would love to see some city lights." He smiled at me.

But my dad growled, "No!" and his face flushed purple.

"Dad, what's the problem."

He made an effort to unclench his teeth. "I don't want you going to Seattle right now."

"Huh?"

"I told you that story in the paper—there's some kind of gang on a killing spree in Seattle and I want to steer clear."

"There's more of a chance my car will break down on the way to Seattle then—"

"No, that's fine, sir," Edwards said interrupting me. "I didn't mean Seattle. I was thinking Portland, actually. I wouldn't have her in Seattle, either. Of course not."

I looked at him in disbelief, but he had my dad's newspaper in his hands and he was reading the front page intently.

He must have trying to appease my father. The idea of being in danger from even the most deadly of humans while I was with Alice or Edward was downright silly. But something nagged me, niggling in my brain about Seattle.

It worked. My father stared at Edward for one more second, and then shrugged. "Fine."" He stalked off to the family room, in a bit of a hurry now—maybe he missed his fiancée.

I waited until I heard my father grumble as he sat on the couch, he would be distracted by Mikey and P so he wouldn't be able to hear me.

"What the f—"I started to scold.

"Hold on," Edward said without looking up from the paper. His eyes stayed focused on the page as he pushed the first application toward me across the table. "I think you can recycle your essays for this one. Same questions."

Edward was way too old fashioned, while all the colleges used the Common App, Edward always found colleges that accepted supplementary paper documents to be added to scholarship considerations.

Charlie must have been listening. After a few minutes I started to fill out the repetitive information: name, high school, address… After a few minutes I glanced up, but Edward was now staring pensively out the window. As I bent my head back to my work, I noticed for the first time the name of the school.

I snorted and shoved the papers aside.

"Peach?"

"Be serious, Edward. Dartmouth?"

Edward lifted the discarded scholarship application and laid it gently in front of me again. "I think you'd like New Hampshire." He said. "There's a full complement of night courses for me, and the forests are very conveniently located for the avid hiker. Plentiful wildlife." He pulled out the crooked smile he knew I couldn't resist.

I crossed my arms, and exhaled deeply through my nose.

"I'll let you pay me back, if that makes you happy," he promised. "If you want, I can charge you interest. I can even let you pay in trade."

"Ugh, as if! Besides I can't even get in without an enormous bribe. Or was that part of the loan? The new Cullen Library? Ugh. Why are we having this discussion again?"

"Will you just fill out the application, please, Peach? It won't hurt you to apply."

My jaw flexed. "You know how I feel about college stuff."

I reached for the papers, planning to throw them off the table dramatically, but they were already gone. I stared at the empty table for a moment, and then at Edward. He didn't appear to have moved, but the application was probably tucked away in his jacket.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I sign your name better than you do. You've already written the essays."

"I haven't applied to Dartmouth, so the scholarship is worthless—ha!" I whispered in case my father was listening.

"I know your College Board password, remember I was here when we set it up!" he reminded me, "I'll submit it tonight."

"I don't even need to apply anywhere!" I whispered. "Who's to say I'll even live long enough to make it to college!"

A pained look tightened his face, "Miri—"

"No. Don't start. I agree, I have to go through the motions. But I can't stop thinking about the very real possibility of a future that I'm not a part of," I caught myself before I raised my voice, "Whatever happens we both know I'm not gonna be in any shape to go to college in the fall."

My knowledge of those first few years as a new vampire was sketchy. Edward and his family hadn't gone into any details—it wasn't our favorite subject—I knew it wasn't pretty. Self-control was an acquired skill. And that was if I decided to be a vampire, who knows maybe the Vampire Mafia would force me to go to back to Italy to monitor me for some mysterious talent to emerge.

"I thought the timing was still undecided," Edward said gently. "You might enjoy a semester or two before any of those things come to pass. Victoria is as good as gone, and the Volturi—we can hold them off."

"But we have no fucking idea, nothing is guaranteed."

"You don't get a second chance at humanity, Miri."

I sighed, "You've got to be reasonable, Edward. Optimism or realism. I can't just exist in perpetual fear of one of them jumping out of the bushes. It's too dangerous to screw around right now and pretend everything is okay."

"There's no danger yet," he insisted again.

I glared at him. No danger? Sure. I only had a sadistic vampire trying to avenge her mate's death with my own, preferably through some slow and torturous method. Who was worried about Victoria? And, of course the Vampire Mafia—really a vampire royal family with their small army of vampire warriors—who insisted my heart stop beating one way or another. Humans weren't supposed to know about them. We both knew what was up, and as much as he tried to pretend there wasn't any danger, there was no reason to panic. I knew no amount of pretending I hadn't been changed by everything was possible.

Even with Alice keeping watch—Edward was relying on her uncannily accurate visions of the future to give us advance warning—it was insane to take chances.

I had already won this argument. The date for my transformation was set shortly after my high school graduation, only a handful of week's day.

A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short the time really was. Of course this change was necessary—and the key to what I wanted more than everything else in the world, to stay alive. But it meant saying goodbye to my father—who was sitting in the other room of watching the game with his fiancée and their adopted son—my brother, and my mother, Renee, blissfully ignorant living 16 hours away in Ivywood with her husband and their one year old, still pleading with me to spend the entire summer with her on the beach near Big Sur, a mountainous coastline that ran 90 miles from Carmel, San Simeon, and Ivywood. And, Jacob, who, unlike my family knew exactly what was going on and what would happen when I disappeared halfway through my colligate education. Even if my parents didn't grow suspicious for a long time, even if I could put of visits with excuses about travel expenses or exams, or illnesses. Jacob would know the truth.

For a moment, the idea of Jacob's certain revulsion, overshadowed every other pain, like I was drowning in it.

"Miri," Edward murmured, his face twisting when he read the distress in mine. "There's no hurry. I won't let anyone hurt you. You can take all the time you need."

"Can you guarantee though?" I whispered, "Edward, I don't want to die. And, hey, maybe I'll enjoy being a monster."

His teeth clenched; he spoke through them. "You have no idea what you're saying." Abruptly, he flung the damp newspaper onto the table between us. His finger stabbed the headline on the front page:

DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE,

POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Monsters are not a joke, Miri."

I stared at the headline again, and then up to his hard expression. "A…a vampire is doing this?" I whispered.

He smiled without humor. His voice was low and cold. "You'd be surprised, Miri, at how often my kind are the source behind the horrors in your human news. It's easy to recognize, when you know what to look for. The information here indicates a newborn vampire is loose in Seattle. Bloodthirsty, wild, out of control. The way we all were."

I let my gaze drop to the paper again, avoiding his eyes. I felt panic rise in my throat, swallowing any argument I had.

"Are the… are they…" I put my index fingers to the sides of my mouth, faking fangs. I swallowed roughly, and felt tears build up.

"Don't cry, Miri," he said softly, "They're not on their way. We've been monitoring the situation for a few weeks. All the signs are there—the unlikely disappearances, always in the night, the poorly disposed-of corpses, the lack of other evidence… Yes, someone brand-new. And no one seems to be taking responsibility for the neophyte…" he took a deep breath. "Well, it's not our problem. We wouldn't even pay attention to the situation if it wasn't going on so close to home. Like I said, this happens all the time. The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences."

I tried not to see the names on the page, but they jumped out of the print like they were bolded. The five people whose lives were now over, whose families were mourning now. It was different from seeing it talking about abstractly to almost experiencing it. Those names: Maureen Gardiner, Geoffrey Campbell, Grace Razi, Michelle O'Connell, Ronald Albrook, they weren't name. They were people. People who'd had parents, and children, and friends. Pets, jobs, hopes and plans for the future, memories and dreams…

"It won't be the same for me will it?" I whispered. "You won't let me disappear like that. We'll live in Antarctica."

Edward snorted, breaking the tension. "Penguins. Lovely."

I laughed a shaky laugh and knocked the paper off the table so I wouldn't have to see those names; it hit the linoleum with a thud. Of course Edward would consider the hunting possibilities. He and his "vegetarian" family—preferred the flavor of large predators for satisfying their dying needs. "Alaska, then, as planned. Only somewhere a little more remote than Juneau—somewhere with grizzlies galore. Like Jon Krakauer said in Into the Wild."

"Better," he allowed, "There are polar bears, too. Very fierce. And the wolves get quite large."

My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Before I could recover, the confusion vanished and his whole body seemed to harden. "Oh. Never mind the wolves, then, if the idea is offensive to you." His voice was stiff, formal, his shoulders rigid.

"He was my boyfriend, Edward." I muttered, it stung to use the past tense. "Of course the idea offends me."

"Please forgive my thoughtlessness," he said, still very formal, "I shouldn't have suggested that."

"No you shouldn't have." I stared at my hands, clenched into fists under the table.

We were both silent for a moment, and then his cool finger was under my chin coaxing my face up. His expression was much softer now.

"Sorry, really."

"I know. I know it's not the same thing. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It's just that…well, I was already thinking about Jacob you came over." I stared into his eyes, waiting for the tawny color to get slightly darker, like they always did, when I mentioned Jacob's name. "My dad says Jake is having a hard time. He's hurting too right now, and…it's my fault."

"You haven't done anything wrong, Miri."

I took a deep breath, he wouldn't understand how I ruined things with Jake by saving him in Italy. "I need to fix it, Edward. I owe him that. And it's one of my dad's conditions, anyway—"

His face changed while I spoke, turning hard again, statuesque.

"You know it's out of the question for you to be around a werewolf unprotected, Miri. And it would break the treaty if any of us cross over onto their land. Do you want to start a war?"

"Of course not!"

"Then there's really no point in discussing the matter further," he dropped his hand and looked away, searching for a subject change. His eyes paused on something behind me, and he smiled, though his eyes stayed wary.

"I'm glad Charlie has decided to let you out—really sadly in need of a visit to the bookstore. I can't have you so bored you're actually reading Wuthering Heights instead of reading Spark Notes over and over again?"

"I don't have a photographic memory, like you," I said curtly.

"Photographic memory or not, it's a terrible book. The characters are ghastly people who ruin each other's lives. I don't know how Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn't a love story, it's a hate story."

"I know, you told me when I was reading the character list on Spark Notes." I snapped. There was so much more about Jake that I wanted to scream at him. But he was so stubborn, and wouldn't listen.

"Perhaps it's because I'm not impressed by antiquity." He smiled, evidently satisfied that he'd distracted me. "Honestly, though, why do insist on reading it and the Spark Notes." His eyes were vivid with real interest now, trying—again—to unravel the convoluted workings of my mind. He reached across the able to cradle my face in his hand. "What is it that appeals to you?"

His sincere curiosity disarmed me. "I'm not sure," I said, the intensity of his gaze scrambling my thoughts. "I think it's something about the inevitability. How they keep ending up in the same place… like pre-destiny."

His face was thoughtful as he considered my words. After a moment he smiled a teasing smile. "I still think it would be a story if either of them had one redeeming quality."

"Well according to Spark Notes, that's the point. The only thing good about them is that their love is their only redeeming quality."

"I hope you have better sense than that—to fall in love with someone so…malignant."

"As if you aren't so inclined," I pointed out. "Besides, I seem to have managed fairly well."

He laughed quietly. "I'm glad you think so."

"Well, I hope you're smart enough to stay away from someone like me. After all, I'm the source of all the trouble."

"You're not. But even so I'll be on my guard." He promised.

I sighed. Now I had to talk about the hard bit.

I put my hand over his to hold it to my face. "I need to see Jacob."

His eyes closed, "No."

"They're not dangerous at all," I said, "I used to spend all my time in La Push, and nothing ever happened." But that was my bluff, because while the results were nothing, it didn't mean nothing dangerous ever happened—an enormous gray wolf crouched to spring, baring his dagger-like teeth at me—I knew Edward could hear my heart race at the memory.

He nodded, confirming that he did know I was bluffing. "Werewolves are unstable. Sometimes, the people near them get hurt. Sometimes, they get killed."

I wanted to deny it, but then I remembered Emily Young. Emily Young, now half marred by a trio of scars he dragged from the corner of her right eye and left her mouth warped forever into a lopsided scowl.

He waited, grimly triumphant, for me to find my voice.

"They don't hurt people intentionally. You don't know them." I whispered.

"I know them better than you think, Miri. I was there the last time."

"Last time?"

"We started crossing paths with the wolves about seventy years ago…. We had just settled near Hoquiam. That was before Alice and Jasper were with us. We outnumbered them. But that wouldn't have stopped it turning into a fight if not for Carlisle. He managed to convince Ephraim Black that coexisting was possible, and eventually we made the truce."

Jacob's great-grandfather.

"We thought the line had died out with Ephraim." Edward muttered; it sounded like he was talking to himself now. "That the genetic quirk which allowed the transmutation had been lost…." He broke off and stared at me accusingly. "Your bad luck seems to get more potent every day. Do you realize that your insatiable pull for all things realize that your insatiable pull for all things deadly was strong enough to recover a pack of mutant canines from extinction? If we could bottle your luck, we'd have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands."

I ignored the ribbing, my attention caught by his assumption—was he serious? "But I didn't bring them back. Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"My bad luck had nothing to do with it. The werewolves came back because the vampires did."

Edward stared at me, his body motionless with surprise.

"You didn't know? I know more than you?"

"Peach…"

"Hang on I'm savoring this." I grinned, "I thought you already knew your family being there set things in motion."

His eyes narrowed. "Is that what they think?"

"Edward, look at the facts. Seventy years ago, you came here, and the werewolves showed up. You come back now, and the werewolves show up again. Do you really think it's a coincidence?"

He blinked and his glare relaxed, "Carlisle will be interested in that theory."

"Theory?" I scoffed, "You're just jelly because Jacob is smarter than you."

He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact that his family's presence was turning the locals into wolves. And how he could have over looked their presence in the scenario. How Jacob and the locals could be so much smarter then him. He was probably seething.

"Interesting, but not exactly relevant," he muttered after a moment. "The situation remains the same."

I could translate that easily enough: no werewolf friends.

I knew I had to be patient with Edward. He was just so unreasonable, and the fact that he didn't want to understand.

I didn't want to talk about that reclusive time with anyone. Especially not Edward. He had only been doing what he thought was best for me. So while I didn't hold him responsible for leaving, and I didn't blame him for my stupid actions while he was gone.

He did.

So I would have to word my explanation very carefully.

I got up and walked around the table. He opened his arms for me to sit on his lap (because sitting on his lap made me feel 1. very aware of my weight and 2. like a baby), but slipped past him and rested my hands on his shoulders. He placed his hands on top of mine. Then I rested my cheek against his cool marble cheek. His jaw relaxed against mine.

"Please just listen for a minute," I whispered in his ear, "This is so much more important than some whim to drop in on an old friend. I hurt Jake. He is in pain, because of me. I have to help him—I can't ignore him, not when I have the chance fix it. Just because he's not human all the time. He was there for me when I needed him. You don't know what it was like…" I hesitated. Edward's hands were tight around mine, as if I would disappear if he let go. "If Jacob hadn't helped me…I'm not sure either of us would be sitting here right now. I owe him this, Edward."

I felt his jaw lock around me, his eye lashes fluttered against my temple, and I knew his eyes were closed.

"I'll never forgive myself for leaving you," he whispered. "Not if I live a hundred thousand years."

I waited until he sighed, and opened his eyes.

"You did what was right for you in the moment. And I'm sure it would have worked, had other things not happened. And you're back, that's what matters."

"If I'd never left, you wouldn't feel the need to go risk your life to comfort a dog."

I flinched. I was used to Jacob and how his colorful names for vampires—leech, bloodsucker, parasite… but it was worse with Edward. Jake knew how that made me feel, and stopped using around me as much. But Edward also knew how I felt.

"I don't know how to phrase this properly," Edward said, and his tone was bleak. "It's going to sound cruel, I suppose. But I've come too close to losing you in the past. I know what it feels like to think I have. I am not going to tolerate anything dangerous."

"You have to trust me on this. I'll be fine."

His face was pained again. "Please, Miri."

I kissed his cheek, "Please, what?"

"Please, for me. Please make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. I'll do everything I can, but I would appreciate a little help."

"Maybe," I whispered into his ear.

"Do you really have any idea how important you are to me? Any concept at all of how much I love you?" His hands gripped mine tighter.

I pressed my lips against his cheek again. "I know how much you love me."

"You are an entire forest to me to his small tree. You have a history with him."

I rolled my eyes, so he was jealous. Of course he was. He was such a jealous baby sometimes.

"I have a history with you." I reminded. Maybe a future.

"No werewolves." He insisted.

"I'm not going to along with that. I have to see Jacob."

"Then I'll have to stop you."

He sounded so utterly confident that this wouldn't be a problem.

Sure he might have the physical speed and strength to stop me, but I could just leave a bra in his car or have Alice slip some of my underwear in his room, and he would be so distracted.

"We'll see about that." I told him anyway, "He's still my friend."

I felt Jacob's note in my pocket, like it was burning a hole. I could hear the words in his voice; he and Edward agreed on one thing—something that would never happen in reality.

Doesn't change much. Sorry.

…

Sorry for the long wait. It's a long chapter and I've been very busy. Please review, it's a sure fire way to get me to update faster. Also if you're interested you can follow my twilight tumblr: forksrain. Also FF won't let me add trikethrough, so pretend the dashes at the top are a strikethrough for Jacob's note.