AN: For those of you who have read my other works, this story adheres more closely to canon than those in the "Mercy" series. I also think it's a bit less dark, though it's hardly fluff. Plenty of drama and action will be present. And also, this one is a romance, as stated in the genre description, so AroxBella fans needn't be disappointed.

EdwardxBella fans... Oh dear. You won't like this at all.

This story picks up right in the middle of Breaking Dawn Chapter 7 and should be read as a continuation of the saga from that point—I apologize if that seems redundant, but I really feel that the buildup is necessary to explaining Bella's feelings. Just as you don't fall in love in one day, you don't fall out of love in one day either, and... well... she's married *cough* to the wrong person *cough* at this point... so...

Also, it'll be a few chapters before Aro shows up. He's not the first person Bella would think about in a crisis.

And once again, I'm following FFnet guidelines for my ratings and so this story is 16+ not 18+.

...

I will give no sort of medicine to any pregnant woman,

with a view to destroy the child.

-Original Greek Version of the Hippocratic Oath (approx.. 500 B.C.)

...

CHAPTER ONE: UNEXPECTED

Everything about our honeymoon on Isle Esme had been picturesquely perfect. That is, until a sudden bout of nausea seized my stomach and caused me to heave its contents not just once, but three times—all in the same day.

The first time, I blamed the suspicious-tasting chicken I had fried for myself earlier that day. I figured that my human fragility made food poisoning a sensible explanation.

Edward hadn't appreciated the insinuation that the food he provided was anything less than five-star. But I'd never had the strongest of stomachs. And no matter how scrupulous he'd been about checking expiration dates, and keeping the meat well-refrigerated, there was still an infinitesimal chance that it could have something wrong with it. And when I was around, every .01% chance of danger became an 100% chance.

I seemed to turn everything upside-down like that. My whole life, from the unplanned pregnancy that led to my existence, to my multiple close brushes with death, was a mess. And my uncanny bad luck had only increased exponentially since I met Edward and became embroiled in the world of vampires. So I really wasn't surprised that a hiccup like this happened on my honeymoon with one.

But for some unknowable reason my sickness threw Edward into a state of dire panic. Like I'd contracted a terminal illness or something, instead of what I was sure was an insignificant stomach bug.

After I told him that I threw up, Edward spent the better part of ten minutes pacing back and forth, and shaking like the earth was giving in beneath him. As he moved, he angrily mumbled a string of mostly indecipherable nonsense. The little I could make out suggested that he thought I was in mortal peril. And that it was somehow his fault.

"I should never have..." he muttered, wringing his hair in his hands, "...she can't die... not... so close..."

I tried to reassure him that this was nothing to be worried about—that I wasn't as fragile as he thought, and had definitely survived worse.

I was Bella Swan: weirdness and danger-magnet extraordinaire. I was always running headlong into danger when I ought to be running away. Like when I stopped Edward from committing suicide in Volterra. And I was always worrying about the wrong things when confronted with a life-threatening situation. Like when I was more worried about whether or not Edward's family would approve of me than I was about my own physical safety.

According to Edward I was "backwards in the head", and sometimes "totally stupid" when it came to self-preservation.

And yet, despite all of the dumb things I'd done that could have easily ended my life, I'd made it this far alive.

But no matter how logical my arguments were; no matter how many times I told him that I would know if I was dying (and I definitely wasn't), Edward remained skeptical about the source of my sudden sickness.

At least, for a few hours.

Eventually, he grudgingly accepted my explanation. He agreed to fry me up some eggs for dinner while I did a little "I told you so" dance.

But unfortunately, my victory was short lived.

Only a few minutes after eating the eggs he had carefully cooked for me, I unexpectedly heaved again, and his worry grew to the extreme. Again, I tried to reassure him that it was probably just the common flu. Which was nothing I couldn't handle on my own. Especially given the plethora of medicinal supplies that Alice with her foresight had packed for me.

But it wasn't really working. Nothing would stay in my stomach for very long. Not even the ginger-tea Edward had fixed to settle my stomach, which typically worked miracles on digestive problems like this.

After coughing up the entire drink, and a lot of bile, into the kitchen sink, Edward started to insist that we return to the mainland and seek professional help.

"We should go back to Rio, see a doctor," he suggested anxiously when I was vigorously rinsing my mouth out afterward—I hated the nasty, acidic taste throwing up left behind. It was almost impossible to entirely get rid of.

I shook my head and nervously edged towards the hallway—doctors meant needles, and my track record with sharp-pointy objects was not stellar. Hell, my track record with perfectly smooth, safe objects wasn't great. So I figured if I went anywhere near something as dangerous as a syringe, I would somehow manage to gravely injure myself. Or at least faint from the sight of my own blood. Risks I really didn't want to take unless I was dying.

"I'll be fine right after I brush my teeth," I lied, in an attempt to placate him.

It was a lie which he accepted with surprising grace. He nodded once before leaving me to it.

I spent a good five minutes scrubbing the rough bristles of my toothbrush across my teeth to erase all vestiges of the horrible taste. When my mouth finally tasted better, I slowly padded into our bedroom, trying not to disturb my stomach any more than necessary. A large suitcase sat open in front of our bed. I knelt down in front of it and started rummaging through it's many contents.

I was searching for the little first-aid kit Alice had packed for me. The first aid kit was full of human things like bandages and painkillers and—my object now—Pepto-Bismol. As I fingered through the many lacy lingerie numbers Alice had also provided, many of which I had yet to utilize against my unsuspecting husband, I hoped that the elusive pink fluid could settle my stomach and subsequently calm Edward down. Really, a little nausea was not something to get worked up over.

But before I found my Pepto, I happened across another thing that Alice had packed for me that gave me pause. It was a small blue box with the word TAMPAX emblazoned on the side in bold white lettering. Lifting it up to examine it better in the light, I stared at the strange object in my hand for a long moment, forgetting everything else.

Then I started counting in my head. Once. Twice. Again.

Something isn't right, I thought as I peered at the waxy cardboard surface of the box in my hand. It's been too long… at least I think so…

A sharp knock on the bedroom door startled me, causing the little box to fall back into the suitcase.

"Are you well?" Edward asked anxiously through the door. He didn't dare come in just in case I was in the middle of one of my "embarrassing human rituals" which I had staunchly forbidden him to witness. I loathed the idea of him seeing me that way, disgusting, frail and ordinary. So whenever he tried, I threw a huge fit. One he currently wanted to avoid.

"Did you get sick again?" he probed, sounding worried, and still hovering behind the door, ready to dart in as soon as I gave the okay.

I heaved a deep sigh. Though I wished otherwise, Edward wasn't going to leave without an answer.

"Yes and no," I said truthfully, not possessing the craftiness to lie at this point. But my voice sounded strangled. And I'd left him with even more questions than answers now.

"Bella? Can I please come in?" His voice creaked with surprising emotion. He was really concerned about my health now, like he believed I had tripped over the foot of the bed and broken my leg. It wasn't entirely unlikely, given my legendary clumsiness.

But given my slightly catatonic state, I didn't know how to respond, other than to weakly squeak out, "O…kay?"

Immediately Edward came in and appraised my position, kneeling on the floor by the suitcase, as well as my expression: blank and staring. After a moment of silent observation, he slid down next to me. His hand went to my forehead at once and he softly stroked my feverish skin.

Edward's pale lips twisted into a disconcerted frown. "What's wrong?" he asked, running his fingers over my face and through my tousled brown hair. He was trying to jolt me from my immobilized condition, so he could know how to offer assistance, rather than sit helplessly in the dark.

"How many days has it been since the wedding?" I whispered nervously, leaning into his cool touch to escape the heat of the day.

"Seventeen," he answered automatically, like it ought to be obvious—which of course it was to him, he had impeccable vampire memory.

Seventeen? Really it's been that long?

Edward's face grew solemn at my silence. "Bella, what is it?"

His answer required an immediate recount. I held up a finger, cautioning him to wait until I was finished—I could hardly concentrate when his beautiful melodious voice was speaking dulcet tones in my ear. I mouthed the numbers to myself. I'd been wrong about the days when I had counted before. According to his calculation, which I knew to be correct, we'd been here longer than I had thought. So I started over again, checking my facts twice, three times, four…. just to be sure.

But no matter how many times I did the math. Or whether I did it backwards or forwards, didn't make a difference. The answer still came up wrong.

It had to be wrong, because the only alternatives I knew of were impossible—unless I was suddenly menopausal. Which was highly unlikely, given the fact that I was only eighteen. Of course there was a slim chance…

But nausea wasn't a symptom of menopause—hot flashes, headaches and irregular periods, sure. But this strange moodiness that had suddenly overwhelmed me and my complete inability to hold down food were not a part of the program. I'd seen my own mother go through menopause—this was not it.

"Bella!" Edward whispered urgently, jarring me from my analytical thoughts. "I'm losing my mind over here," he added, his topaz eyes imploring me to tell him what had me so paralyzed.

I tried to swallow; to compose myself so that I could explain my conundrum. But it didn't work—my mouth was utterly frozen in shock.

So instead I merely reached into the suitcase and fumbled around until I found the little blue box of tampons again, brand-new and unopened. I held it aloft silently. I figured their lack of use during this extended trip spoke enough for itself.

Apparently not. As I presented the box to my husband, Edward just stared at me in total confusion.

"What? Are you trying to pass this illness off as PMS?" he said, not believing the excuse for a second. And completely missing my point, as most men—especially vampires—did when it came to womanly matters.

"No," I choked out with much difficulty. My mind was still struggling to process what was happening, and it was hampering my motor capabilities in the process. "No, Edward. I'm trying to tell you that my period is five days late," I clarified slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly so that he had time for my words to sink in.

But his facial expression didn't change. It was like I hadn't spoken at all.

"I don't think I have food poisoning…" I added for good measure, trying to verbally coerce him into some sort of response.

I would have taken anything: outrage, fear, incredulity, a laugh, whatever. But his blank topaz eyes and his totally petrified movements were unacceptable. I needed him to do something, not just sit there and gaze glassily off into space, like Medusa had appeared and turned him into a stone sculpture.

So I forced him to confront my theory by dropping a hand to cradle my upset stomach, holding it the way a woman might after using one of those First-Response strips and testing positive.

He still didn't move.

I lurched to my feet, slipping easily out of Edward's unmoving hands and dashed over to the full-length mirror hanging against the far wall. I'd never changed out of the little silk shorts and navy camisole I'd warn to bed. So when I approached my shell-shocked reflection, I hastily yanked the blue fabric out of the way and stared at my exposed stomach.

I hadn't expected to find anything there, I was just trying to garner my dazed husband's attention.

But what I saw reflected in the glass made me gasp in pure disbelief.

"Impossible," I whispered, awestruck as my eyes fell upon the pale, unfamiliar surface.

I had absolutely no experience with pregnancy or babies or any part of that world, but I wasn't an idiot. I'd seen enough movies and TV shows to know that this wasn't how it worked. I was only five days late, so if I was pregnant, my body wouldn't even have registered that fact. I would not have morning sickness—what my nausea earlier must have been—I would not have changed my eating or sleeping habits…

…And I most definitely would not have a small, but nonetheless very defined bump sticking out between my hips.

I twisted my torso back and forth, examining it from every angle, as if it would disappear in the exactly the right light. I ran my fingers over the subtle bulge, surprised by how rock-hard it felt under my skin. Like Edward's marble-flesh, not my squishy human membranes.

"Impossible," I said again, this time dismissively, rather than in wonderment. Because, bulge or no bulge, period or no period (and there definitely was no period, though I'd never been late a day in my life), there was no way I could be pregnant. The only person I'd ever had sex with was a vampire, for crying out loud! A vampire who was still frozen on the floor, emptily gazing off into space, with no sign of ever moving again.

So there had to be some other explanation, then. Something wrong with me. A strange South American disease that came with all the sings of pregnancy, only accelerated…. But did such a thing really exist? Or was I just trying to worm my way out of the most logical deduction?

Except that it wasn't very logical at all. Vampires couldn't have children—I had been taught that much by Rosalie.

But as I considered it for a moment I realized that my situation with Edward was slightly different. Of course Rosalie could not conceive a child, because she was frozen in the state in which she passed from human to inhuman. Totally unchanging.

Like all of them were.

Alice's hair was permanently short, because it'd been cropped during her stay in the asylum. And Esme was still minutely round from the baby she had lost before her transformation. Not that Carlisle minded in the slightest.

And the way procreation worked among humans was that women's bodies had to change to bear children. The constant change of a monthly cycle for one thing, which I'd never asked the Cullens about specifically (though I'd never seen any feminine products in their bathrooms until I'd become a regular visitor). And then the bigger changes needed to accommodate a growing child.

And while I wasn't sure about the former (vampires did exhibit some infinitesimal growth cycles in their cells, allowing for healing and breathing, so having a period wasn't entirely out of the question), I was sure that the latter was impossible. Rosalie's body couldn't change that much. Her perfectly flat stomach was frozen in place. So even if a collection of infant cells tried to take up residence there, they wouldn't have any room to grow. And would necessarily die out.

But I didn't have the same limitations. My body could change. And judging by the little bump on my stomach that had not been there yesterday, it already had.

And human men—well they pretty much stayed the same from puberty to death in regards to fertility. Some had fathered children in their seventies or even older. Men had no such thing as child-bearing years, and their cycle of fertility—spermatogenesis—was a constant, continuous process that didn't require any external alterations to the body. And therefore it was something that the transition into immortality could easily sustain.

And if Edward was still fully functioning in that department, (which I hadn't bothered to specifically ask, but had a fairly good idea from our nights together that he was) it was totally possible that he could be capable of fathering children.

Of course, how could he have known? I reasoned. How could anyone know if vampire men could father children, when their female counterparts were not able to facilitate the process?

It was clear to me, based on everyone's reservations about Edward and I having a "real honeymoon" while I was still human, that our situation was rare.

How many other vampires on earth had attempted something so ridiculous and dangerous? I wondered. And of those few, how many had intended the human to survive the process, not simply get eaten? I shuddered as I recalled how Edward had once said others only saw sex with humans as a "prelude to the feast."

How many other vampires on earth even possessed the restraint necessary to test their fertility with a human woman? I considered, as I realized that even most of the Cullens, with all their good intentions, were never quite perfectly under control.

I couldn't know for sure. But it dawned on me that Edward might be the only one. The only vampire to ever sleep with a human woman who escaped the encounter alive.

I desperately wanted Edward to explain what was going on, but I was stunned beyond the capacity to speak. The reality that I might be the first woman to carry a vampire's child too overwhelming to allow it.

At the very least I needed to go back to where Edward sat, because his familiar presence and gentle touches always made everything better. But my body wouldn't follow instructions. I could only stare at my shocked eyes in the mirror. And the fingers gingerly pressed against the swelling on my torso.

As I stood there, my head still reeling from the implications of this impossible scenario I had found myself in, something happened that changed everything. It was such a small sensation. Something that in mundane circumstances would not have had any significance. But right now, the feeling was earth-shattering.

It was a tiny, soft nudge bumping against my hand from inside my body.

Whatever was going on with me now, there was something alive in there. Something sentient enough to be curious about its surroundings, including the fingers pressed experimentally against it. A fact that made the theoretical situation of my pregnancy suddenly very real.

In the same moment, however, Edward's phone rang, shrill and demanding.

Neither of us moved, right away. I was too busy trying to tune it out while I ran my hands over my swollen stomach, waiting for whatever creature now lived beneath them to reassert itself.

In the mirror my expression was no longer bewildered. Instead it was wondering now.

Could I really have a baby inside me already? I barely noticed the strange, silent tears streaming down my cheeks as I considered this prospect with unexpected joy.

The phone rang again and again, and kept ringing, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. I really wished Edward would answer it—I was having a moment, possibly the biggest of my life.

A baby… I mused rapturously. Is that what this is?

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Finally, the annoyance broke through everything else. I got down on my knees next to Edward, moving more carefully, and patted-down his many pockets until I found the phone. As I irritably fished it out of his front left pocket, I half expected him to thaw out of his statuesque stupor and answer it himself. But throughout the entire ordeal he was perfectly still. Unmoving and emotionless—like a renaissance statue of some great stoic thinker.

When I lifted the phone, I recognized the number immediately. And I could easily guess why she was calling.

"Hi, Alice," I said in my best happy voice. But it wasn't much better than before—still raspy and sick sounding. Not to mention thoroughly terrified.

What on earth are we going to do about this miracle? I wondered before I cleared my throat.

"Bella? Bella are you okay?" Alice anxiously demanded, her bell-like voice sounding frantic and confused. Like it had been when Edward had decided to kill himself at the hands of the Volturi, and his future kept fluctuating before her perceptive eyes.

I stiffened where I stood as I tried to imagine what she might have seen that had urged her to call at this moment. I tried to assure myself that I was overreacting. That I was imagining the fear I heard in her voice. Maybe she was just calling to tell me that this bizarre thing happening to me right now would turn out okay.

"Yeah, um is Carlisle there?" I asked nervously. Certainly the medical expert would be able to confirm my theory, or disavow it if it was totally ridiculous. And if it was ridiculous, he could explain why there was something alive inside of me—a South American parasite, maybe?

It would have to be a vegan parasite, though. It hadn't liked any of the animal products I'd eaten in the last several hours… chicken, eggs, milk…

"He is," Alice revealed hesitantly. "What's the problem?"

"I'm not… one hundred percent sure…" I answered honestly.

I couldn't really just blurt out my irrational theory. There was no reason to make my new sister-in-law panic over unexpectedly becoming an aunt if that wasn't even scientifically feasible.

"Is Edward alright?" She asked warily before she called Carlisle's name away from the phone. "Why didn't he pick up the phone?" she demanded before I could answer her first question.

I glanced over at my immobile husband. He didn't look alright. His whole body was rigid, like he'd prematurely gone into rigor mortis. Not even my hand waving animatedly in front of his face could shake him from his reverie.

"I'm not sure."

"Bella, what's going on, I just saw—" Alice broke off ominously before finishing her sentence, as if she didn't want to say the words aloud for fear that they might come true if she did.

But I was unwilling to accept her silence. The curiosity that flooded my being was suddenly unbearable. "What did you see?" I begged. I tried to make it clear in my voice without further frightening Edward that I could handle whatever it was, good or bad.

The other end of the line was completely quiet for a horrifying moment. Then finally, when her lack of speaking was almost unbearable, Alice said, "Here's Carlisle," before handing the phone off to him.

It felt like ice-water had been injected into my veins. Alice's silence spoke volumes.

If Alice had seen a vision of me with a green-eyed, angel-faced child in my arms, she would have answered me, wouldn't she? I reasoned. Wouldn't that be good news? Something both of us would want to hear in light of this unprecedented, and frankly a bit scary, event?

I certainly thought so.

Does she think that the truth will be too much for me to hear right now? I considered as the alternative. Is she worried that telling me will affect my decisions? That if I know what is going on, that I might accidentally decide to do something that will wreck my chances for a beautiful future?

I chewed on my lower lip as I struggled to remain optimistic about this. Maybe our child has a birth defect, like Down syndrome or something. And she doesn't want to spoil the moment by telling us right away.

While I waited through the split second it took for Carlisle to speak, the vision I wanted Alice to have seen danced behind my lids. I saw a tiny, beautiful little baby—a miniature Edward—in my arms. Warmth shot through me as I gazed upon his adorable little features in my mind's eye, especially his chubby little hands and feet, chasing the ice away.

Whatever obstacle might present itself to us now, in that moment I resolved that I would love him and shield him from it no matter what.

"Bella, it's Carlisle." His apprehensive voice sliced through my blissful day-dreaming. "What's going on?"

"I—" I wasn't sure how to answer.

Would he laugh at my conclusions, tell me I was crazy? Maybe in five seconds I would wake up in Edward's arms and discover that all of this had just been a colorful dream. A very vivid, very sensate, partially nightmarish dream.

"I'm a little worried about Edward…" I said, distancing the conversation from me for a moment. I wasn't sure if I could handle the embarrassment right away if I was wrong. "Can vampires go into shock?"

"Has he been harmed?" Carlisle's voice was suddenly urgent. No doubt he was doubly on edge because whatever could possibly pose a threat to my nigh-impenetrable husband definitely posed a lethal threat to me, being the careless, fragile human that I was.

My frazzled mind quickly filtered through a number of terrifying scenarios that could physically damage Edward. Another encounter with the Volturi. A newborn army. Or even just a lone vampire or werewolf. Or some other legendary creature I had yet to familiarize myself with.

But the only other people on this remote island were the human housekeepers.

"No, no," I assured him quickly—we were not in physical danger.

I hoped.

I gazed with worried eyes down at Edward again. He still sat utterly immobile and unbreathing, giving me the horrifying impression that he'd somehow fossilized on the spot. It was unnatural for him to stay that way for this long.

"Just… taken by surprise."

I wasn't giving Carlisle much to go on.

"I don't understand, Bella," the doctor said slowly with the barest of sighs, as if prompting me to get to the point.

I sighed too. I guess I couldn't stall any longer. "I think… well, I think that…"

How on earth was I supposed to word this? Everything I've come up with sounds stupid in my head, I lamented as I tripped over the words.

"Maybe… I might be…"

I took a deep breath, deciding to throw caution to the wind. Carlisle had to know.

In my most confident tone of voice, I said, "I think I might be pregnant." I was startled by how even and smooth it had left my lips, rather than the coarse rambling I'd been expecting.

As if to back me up, there was another tiny nudge in my abdomen.

My hands immediately flew over my stomach again. Are you really my baby? I wondered again as the feeling dissipated, leaving me alone with the unhelpful statue at my feet. And the eerie silence on the other end of the line.

After a long pause, Carlisle's medical training kicked in. "When was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?" he asked automatically, as I was certain he had asked many, many women before me throughout the course of his centuries-long career. Thankfully, as a doctor he was totally unperturbed by the academic realities of female fertility.

"Sixteen days before the wedding." I'd done the mental math thoroughly enough just before to be able to answer with certainty.

His next question was also probably gleaned from hospital experience. "How do you feel?" he asked calmly, routinely, like he was dealing with any other possibly pregnant woman—not his son's newlywed wife who was possibly carrying the implausible: a vampire's baby.

"Weird," I told him honestly.

My voice broke as I caressed the strange, stony skin beneath the fleshy outer layer of my stomach. Another trickle of tears dribbled down my cheeks as I pondered the most likely scenario of what laid beneath it.

"This is going to sound crazy—look, I know it's way too early for any of this. Maybe I am crazy. But I'm eating all the time and crying and throwing up and… and… I swear something just moved inside me just now," I ranted, knowing that I sounded exactly as insane as I had feared.

But I no longer cared because this was insane. A vampire fathering a child inside of me? Who knew?

At my admission that the tiny life inside me was already moving, Edward's head suddenly snapped up—an action which made me sigh in relief.

He is still alive, thank God.

Edward's second movement however, was to hold his hand out expectantly for the phone, his face white and hard. A much less reassuring gesture.

"Um, I think Edward wants to talk to you," I said, not entirely sure that Edward could talk, given his previously paralytic state and relatively recent return to the land of the sort-of-living.

"Put him on," Carlisle conceded in a strained voice. He was obviously upset with the idea of relinquishing from our conversation. But he knew his son well enough to know that Edward wouldn't take no for an answer.

I sighed too, but obediently put the phone in my husband's outstretched hand. As soon as I let go of the device Edward raised it to his ear in record time.

So much for being a statue.

"It is possible?" he whispered. I couldn't tell if the idea made him sick, or he was simply taken off guard. Either way, he sounded extremely disgusted.

Instinctively, I shielded the bump on my stomach as Edward debated the likelihood of my being pregnant with Carlisle. I didn't like the tone of Edward's voice at all.

Ultimately, the two men went over all the same factors I had in my head about male fertility versus female fertility and how those things interacted with vampirism. At first Edward had angrily denied the idea, even shouting at Carlisle for suggesting that it was conceivable—which made me jump. I had never heard my husband behave so rudely towards Carlisle. Especially without any sort of provocation. But after a few minutes Carlisle must have said something that consoled him somewhat. Because immediately the volume of Edward's voice dropped. And while he still seemed considerably angry, he wasn't grinding his teeth together anymore. Or threatening to rip his own hair out.

"Will that really work?" Edward asked in response to a proposal I hadn't heard. His voice suddenly lilted upwards hopefully, as if his father had suggested something particularly heartening.

Will what work? I wondered, anxiously wringing my fingers. I waited for Edward to speak again so that I could try to piece together their conversation.

"What?!" Edward suddenly barked at something Carlisle said. Then his whole body tensed and coiled with rage—an emotion I had not expected from him.

My skin prickled uneasily as I stood beside him. I could only watch helplessly as these men discussed something obviously important regarding this new development. For some unknowable reason, Edward chose purposefully to leave me out of the loop.

What on earth has him so angry? I wondered fearfully. This is a little unexpected. And if I am pregnant, then it is going rather fast... I conceded. But there's no reason to take that out on Carlisle!

There was a lengthy stretch of silence, where Edward listened for a long time, staring blankly at nothing. I assumed that during that time Carlisle was patiently answering my husband's query, and probably asking a few questions of his own.

After what felt like an eternity Edward finally spoke again, his words pressed through tight, stress-thinned lips. "Of course. I'll do what I can," he promised with a tiny bob of his head. Then, without warning he pulled his head away from the phone, pressed the "end" button and turned back to me.

"Carlisle thinks you're pregnant," he said in a lifeless voice. A voice that belied the bizarre fury I had seen in him earlier. It was still brimming beneath the surface, however, causing his brows to furrow into a deep "v".

But in the moment I was too swept up by the daunting revelation he had given me to care. The words "you're pregnant" sent a warm shiver down my spine. And the little nudger fluttered inside me in agreement.

I wasn't given any time to revel in the moment of awareness though—because immediately after Edward hung up, he rapidly began dialing a new number, one I didn't recognize. He put the phone back to his ear.

"Who are you calling now?" I asked, bewildered.

Edward tapped his foot irritably against the floor, waiting for the person on the other end of the line to pick up.

"The airport. We're going home."

…

Edward was on the phone for more than an hour without a break. I guessed that he was arranging our flight home, but I couldn't be sure. He wasn't speaking English and it sounded like he was arguing. He was yelling and he spoke through his teeth a lot, hissing slightly even, when he didn't get his way.

I felt bad for whoever was on the other end. They didn't deserve his acerbic treatment. Not even in a potentially-crisis-situation like this.

I wondered about what exactly had gotten my husband's hackles raised all of sudden. Edward hadn't made a fuss about any of this until I'd mentioned that our growing child was surprisingly mobile…

Of course, prior to that he'd been totally frozen… so...

While Edward argued, he packed, whirling around the room like an angry tornado, leaving order, rather than destruction in his path. He harshly threw a set of my clothes on the bed without looking at them so I assumed it was time to get dressed.

I silently complied with the unspoken order, quickly scooping up the garments he'd provided and deposited my bedclothes back into my suitcase. He continued with his argument while I changed. He gestured with sudden, agitated movements. And completely ignored me as I slowly changed my underwear too, choosing Alice's most daring red lace bra and panties to see if my nakedness and subsequent naughty-wear would distract him.

It usually did.

But today it didn't. He was too absorbed in his vicious war of words to even notice.

I sighed at his cold indifference and hurriedly threw on the plain dark blue shirt he'd chosen for me, followed by the tan capris. I guess I would have to remember that lingerie didn't work on Edward's temper the same way it did to his inhibitions about having sex.

After I had dressed, I could no longer bear the violent energy radiating out of my husband. His manic concentration made me sick to my stomach—not like the morning sickness, just uncomfortable. And so I quietly left the room.

I resolved to wait somewhere else for his mood to pass. I couldn't talk to this livid, icy, overly-focused Edward who honestly frightened me a little. He wasn't the man I had come to love with my whole being. He was… someone else.

Once again, I ended up in the kitchen. I always seemed to gravitate there for some reason. After pacing around mindlessly for a few moments while Edward shrieked furiously into the phone in the background, I found a small bag of pretzels in the cupboard. I started absently chewing on them as I stared out the window. Staring at the beautiful orange sand, rocks, trees and ocean, everything glittering in the afternoon sun.

Eating pretzels wasn't the smartest idea, given my recent experiences with food. I was almost destined to hack these up later too. But at the moment I didn't particularly care. I just needed something to get my mind off Edward and how unlovable he was acting at the moment.

In sickness and in health I reminded myself of our wedding vows, realizing for the first time what everyone had meant when they had said that marriage was not all sunshine and roses. The concept had seemed laughable while we'd been engaged. Of course a marriage to Edward would be nothing but a dream, I'd naively thought.

But I wasn't about to butt out now. Even according to Carlisle, who I regarded as something of a marriage expert, sometimes you just had to put up with your spouse acting unreasonably.

Or in this case, acting ridiculously. And being horribly mean to everyone that was going to help us through this difficult time.

Edward yelled multiple strains of what sounded like insanely large amounts of money. The number shocked me at first. But I had to imagine that being suddenly bribed into chartering a direct flight from Rio back to Seattle, with the logistical nightmare that must present on such a short notice, was not a pleasant experience. I would have to be sure to give the reluctant pilot my deepest thanks when we finally got aboard.

While I considered telling Edward to cut the man some slack, however, someone nudged me again—diverting my attention back to the unlikely swell protruding from my belly. "I don't understand," I whispered to my little nudger. "What is wrong here?"

This whole situation was certainly surprising, astonishing, even. But wrong?

No, nothing was wrong about us having a baby together. We were married, so it wasn't exactly a scandal. Human couples did this sort of thing all the time. We were just a little… different.

So why was Edward so furious? I couldn't figure it out. He was the one who had actually wished out loud for a shotgun wedding!

As I continued munching mindlessly on pretzels, I tried to reason through it.

Maybe it wasn't so confusing that Edward wanted us to go home right away. Of course he'd want Carlisle to check me out. To make sure my assumption was right—though there was absolutely no doubt in my mind at this point.

Also, probably they'd want to figure out why I was already so pregnant, with the bump and the nudging and all of that. That wasn't normal.

And Edward would also want to make sure that our child was actually alright. That nothing had gone horribly, terribly wrong that was speeding this process along.

Maybe Alice had told Carlisle what she said had seen and he had relayed that information to Edward earlier on the phone…

Maybe that was the secret to their urgency.

Once I thought of this, I was sure I had it. Edward must be so worried about the baby! I simply hadn't gotten around to freaking out yet because my brain worked slower than his. I was still stuck marveling over the picture it had conjured up before. The vision of a tiny child with Edward's eyes—green as his had been when he was human—lying fair and beautiful in my arms.

And even as I gradually came to distantly grasp what my husband's fears might be, I continued to dreamily envision our child. I hoped that he would have Edward's face exactly, with no interference from mine, because it would be a pity to mar something so exquisite and beautiful with features borrowed from boring old Bella.

I just couldn't bring myself to be possessed by the same hysteria that now consumed Edward. My instincts were just too different, I guess.

I had almost eaten all the pretzels in the bag now, but I wasn't really paying attention. The vision of our baby and of our future with him had consumed all of my senses.

From that first, tentative little touch, the whole world had shifted around me. Where before there was just one person I could not live without, (Edward, of course), now there were two. There was no division—my love was not split between them now; it wasn't like that. It was more like my heart had grown, swollen up to twice its size in that moment. And all that extra space was already filled with unfathomable love for this new being.

The increase was almost dizzying.

I'd never really understood Rosalie's pain and resentment before this moment. I'd never really imagined myself a mother, never wanted that with any of the boys I had crushed on before I had met him. And so it had been a piece of cake to promise Edward that I didn't care about giving up children for him, because I truly didn't.

Children, in the abstract, had never appealed to me. They seemed to be loud creatures, screaming, throwing things and often dripping with some form of goo. Not to mention they were chronically dependent on their mothers, which was not exactly the most appealing prospect to someone who would most likely end up tripping with one in my arms, and wind up dropping them into a ravine.

Perhaps if I'd grown up with a younger sibling I might have felt differently. But I was Renee's only child, and so I'd never had much to do with them. Even when I'd dreamed of Renee providing me with a brother, I'd always imagined an older brother. Someone to take care of me, rather than the other way around.

This child, Edward's child, was a whole different story.

I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice—a necessity.

Maybe I just had a really bad imagination. Maybe that was why I'd been unable to imagine that I would like being married until after I already was. And wholly unable to see that I would want a baby until after one was already coming….

As I put my hand on my stomach, waiting expectantly for the next nudge, tears streaked down my cheeks again. What a wonderful miracle! I'm going to be a mother! We're going to be parents! We get to have a family! Could this dream get any more perfect?

"Bella?"

I turned, made wary by the tone of his voice: it was too cold, too careful. When my tear-blurred eyes hazed back into focus I stepped back a bit in shock—his face matched his voice. It was empty and hard.

At least until Edward saw that I was crying. Then his expression became panicked, alarmed like I was about to do something stupid that would land myself in the emergency room again.

"Bella!" He cried out before crossing the room in a flash, whipping the balmy summer air into a frenzy around him. When he reached me he tenderly put his hands on my face. "Are you in pain?"

He didn't understand. He thought my tears were because I was hurting. It was so the opposite. I was glowing with happiness. Why couldn't he see that?

"No, no—" I protested.

But for some unknowable reason Edward didn't want to hear it. Rather suddenly, he pulled me against his chest, running his hands reassuringly over my back the way he would when I was genuinely frightened.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured softly, almost in a coo. Though it was laced with a dark-edge of what I thought was self-loathing. "We'll be home in sixteen hours. You'll be fine." He informed me, inclining his head towards the phone, where he had digital copies of our rush-printed tickets displayed on the screen. "Carlisle will be ready when we get there," he added.

This initially made me soften in his glacial arms, thinking he was anxious to check on the baby. Until he went on, "We'll take care of this, and you'll be fine. You'll be fine."

I cringed at his words and especially the way he'd said them. "Take care of this?"

He'd said it so callously—not the way I had expected a doting, overly-concerned father to regard his growing offspring. And also with a degree of finality that disturbed me. Like in a few days this "issue" would somehow no longer exist.

"What do you mean?"

Edward leaned away from me and looked me in the eye so there could be no mistake in his meaning. The amber irises peering down at me were cold and forbidding, like a gilded cage.

"We're going to get that thing out before it can hurt you," he bit out between gritted teeth. He spit the word "thing" out of his mouth like it was an abomination. A monstrous parasite. An aberration against all that was good and holy in the world.

Clearly he saw something different in his mind when he imagined the combination of our genes manifested outside the womb. He probably saw something more akin to how he felt about vampires in general, as soulless, inherently evil creatures. I could only hope that Alice's visions did not back him up in believing that what we'd unwittingly created together was something menacing and vicious.

My eyes widened in fear. I now understood what the two men intended to do.

"Don't be scared," Edward reiterated, mistaking my emotions for his own. He dropped his hands to his sides and clenched them into fists with a pressure that could easily have cracked my wrists, or my neck had he been holding them. "I won't let it hurt you," he promised.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I clutched the counter for support. My knees were wobbly and everything around me was suddenly too bright and very blurry. I felt like I was going to faint.

Edward had just called my little nudger a thing. And he said Carlisle would get it out. They wanted to abort the baby. My baby.

"No," I whispered as I backed against the cool granite surface behind me. I grasped the edge with white-knuckles like my life depended on it.

I'd gotten it wrong before. Edward didn't care about the baby at all!

Instead he wanted to hurt him.

The beautiful picture in my head shifted abruptly, changing into something brutal and dark. I saw my pretty baby crying, squealing as he was ripped cruelly from his home far too soon. My weak arms were not enough to protect him. And my stomach clenched as I saw the vindictive face of my husband as he coldly gave the order for our child to be torn apart and cast into the flames.

I almost threw up as the horrifying image raced across my mind.

Could Edward really do that to his own child? I wondered. I knew that under the same circumstances, my own father would have never been able to do something as ghastly as that to me and Renee. Nor would Carlisle be able to harm any child he created with Esme, had the option been available to them.

But as I looked terrified up into Edward's heartless eyes and the violently tense brows furrowed over them, I immediately understood that Edward didn't conceive of our unlikely offspring the same way I did. To him, the thing growing inside me wasn't a child at all—monstrous or not. It was a malignant tumor, a leech, an infestation. And most importantly, a safety hazard to the well-being of his wife that needed to be exterminated as soon as possible.

I wanted to run from him in horror.

What could I do? I panicked.

I didn't dare to voice my thoughts aloud for fear that Edward would use them against me. I thanked the heavens once again for my strange imperviousness to his telepathy. Today it might spell the difference between saving my child and losing it.

Would I be able to reason with the others? I thought frantically. Perhaps if Carlisle could be convinced that my life wasn't in danger from this unusual baby, Edward would change his mind.

But what if I couldn't? I reasoned pessimistically. What if this vampire child is a threat to my health in a greater sense than just normal morning sickness? It isn't normal… that's for sure. And if it gets anywhere near as strong as Edward while I'm still carrying it…

I cringed as I imagined the little underdeveloped baby accidentally kicking into my spine, unknowingly severing my spinal cord and crippling me for life. Or possibly even killing me instantaneously with its ludicrous strength.

Maybe that was why Edward had suddenly launched into action when I had mentioned that he was moving. I didn't want to picture my baby that way. He was so beautiful in my head. And I couldn't imagine that something so small and innocent would ever knowingly want to cause me pain.

But the fact that he might do so inadvertently was probably a given at some point. He was probably just too small right now. But with how swiftly he was growing, that would soon change...

Suddenly, I found myself understanding Edward's pain a little.

We'd risked my death so many times before. And with how critical my existence was to Edward, I realized he probably couldn't handle it again. Now he'd totally snapped and wasn't going to take any chances… the life of his own kin be damned. That was the depth of his love for me.

But I didn't want that. I didn't want him to kill our baby, no matter the dangers that accompanied carrying it to term. I wanted us to be a family.

Did this explain Alice's strange silence on the phone? I speculated frightfully. Is that what she'd seen? Edward and Carlisle killing that pale, perfect child before he could live?

"No," I said again, my voice stronger. That could not be. I would not allow it.

There was a tentative nudge in my womb, like the child within me could feel the tension in the air and was looking for a reassurance that I wouldn't let it be unfairly taken to its execution when it hadn't done anything wrong. All it had ever done really was exist. And I couldn't find it in me to blame the little unborn infant for that. It wasn't like he had any control over it. Edward and I had decided to have sex. And it appeared there were biological repercussions of that fact.

It's okay. We're okay, I thought toward the bump. I will protect you. No matter what.

"We're keeping the child," I affirmed with surprising audacity.

I watched as Edward's face grew sad and serious, before it burned with an icy rage. I shivered under it. But Edward didn't move to reprimand me for my choice until I started for the bathroom.

Then his hand caught my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin with fright. He was livid with me. And highly suspicious.

"Where are you going?" His voice was hard, loveless. And his eyes seethed with an emotion akin to betrayal, like my desire to protect our newest member of the family against his wishes was somehow a rejection of him.

I didn't understand it. How could he think that I couldn't love them both? Did he think I wanted the little nudger inside me to live just to spite him? That I was rebelling against his murderous inclinations for rebellion's sake?

I paused in the hallway, carefully considering my response before I answered him. "To brush my teeth again." I lied.

Well, I really was going to brush my teeth. But that wasn't my primary purpose in going to the restroom.

Edward seemed to accept this after a while. He let me go with one last reluctant glance over his shoulder. "We're leaving as soon as you're done." It was spoken as an order. I found myself shivering again as the commanding syllables reached my ears.

Edward seemed to believe, (probably correctly so), that the longer we waited, the harder it would be to get me to change my mind. And if he was able to rush me directly to Carlisle without any distractions or possible other interferences, they could efficiently strap me down and cut my little miracle out of my stomach before I could call anyone strong enough to stop them to my aid.

Knowing this, I needed to act fast if I wanted to have any chance of saving my baby's life. But I couldn't do that with Edward watchfully hovering over me. I had hoped he would disappear to finish packing when I announced my intention to go into the bathroom. But instead he paced silently around the bedroom, waiting for me to finish brushing my teeth.

When I came out again, I still desperately needed a few seconds alone, so I stalled, giving him a task that would definitely force him to vacate the area.

"Um, Edward? Could you… pack some of the food? You know, in case I get hungry again?"

"Of course," he said.

His eyes were still slightly wary as I made my request, but not enough for him to suspect my true intentions. I had never been a very good liar before, and was surprised at how easy it was when I had something extremely important to protect. Protecting myself with falsehoods had been impossible. But protecting my little angel with them was a piece of cake.

I guess you could say I was motivated.

"Don't worry about anything," Edward went on, straining to make his voice sound tender, but ultimately settling for slightly-less-pissed-off. "We'll get to Carlisle in just a few hours really. This will all be over soon."

All be over soon? Edward was completely discounting what I had said earlier. He was either assured that the doctor could convince me to change my mind about our baby. Or totally unconcerned for my personal feelings on the matter.

I fought to suppress a tremor of horror as I imagined Edward furiously cutting the baby out of me himself. The mirage of my husband hacked at the marble-like skin protecting our child with with every surgical implement he could find, resorting to an industrial-grade saw when all other tools failed. And in the vision, I cried in agony and desperately pleaded for him to stop.

But the imaginary Edward ignored my shrieks, my demands that he not hurt our baby. Instead, after my stomach was nothing more than a mangled mess, he offered empty assurances that I would be alright now, before he coldly told Carlisle to "dispose of it".

All the blood present in my horrible vision made me feel woozy. But instead of passing out, I just nodded numbly in response to the callous words Edward had spoken in reality, not trusting my voice—it would betray me for sure.

After a moment that felt like forever, Edward finally turned and left the room with one big suitcase in each hand.

As soon as he was gone I whirled around and scooped up the phone he'd left on the counter. It was very unlike him to forget things. But he was so stressed today that he was barely himself. Instead he was cold, angry, scary, violent…

Whatever happened to the gentle, lopsidedly-smiling and darkly humorous Edward that I had come to love? Where was he now, and who was this hateful, murderous doppelganger that had replaced him?

Would he really destroy our child while I continued to make it perfectly clear that I wanted to keep it? I thought as I reached for the abandoned phone, traumatized by my recent imagination. And more importantly, could I ever love him after that?

I chewed on my lower lip in deep thought. I highly doubted that I could.

But there was no time for me to ponder that train of thought any further. Today's uncharacteristic forgetfulness on Edward's part was to my advantage. But there was no guarantee it would last for very long.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I picked up the phone, flipped it open and scrolled through the pre-programmed numbers. I was glad he had the sound turned off. I was still afraid that he would catch me.

Would he be at the boat now? Or back already? I worried as I listened for any indication of his movements nearby. Would he hear me from the kitchen if I whispered?

But I had no other choice. I couldn't just remain silent, even if he could hear me. This was my only shot.

At last, I found the number I wanted, one I had never called before in my life, and one I had never imagined I ever would. After a fleeting hesitation based on prior bad experiences with this person and a fear that they would let that stop them from helping me, I pressed the "send" button and tightly crossed my fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, I implored silently from hundreds of miles away.

"Hello?" the beautiful feminine voice like golden wind chimes answered after three rings.

I found myself gasping in relief. I was surprised by how kind she sounded, it wasn't an emotion I associated with her. But of course, this was Edward's phone, so she probably thought I was him.

If she had known I was calling, I would expect her to throw her phone into the nearest ditch and severely punish who ever had leaked her number to me. She didn't like me at all.

But I had to take this chance, she was the only one I thought would understand.

"Rosalie?" I whispered as quietly as I could. I hoped it was too low for Edward's supernaturally strong ears. "It's Bella. You have to help me."