"Often when I imagine you

your wholeness cascades into many shapes.

You run like a herd of luminous deer

and I am dark, I am forest."

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours I, 45

I am running through your mind. I know it. I know that even though we have been apart for many years now, our roots are undeniably tangled: like twin trees, we will always come back to the same place. We grew from the same dirt. I am running through the physical trees, too. The goodbye was hard. My family's golden eyes- much like I hope yours are, now, although how could I blame you if they were not?- followed my every move, my every avoiding of their eyes. No arguing. We all knew a crossroads were upon us, upon me.

She kept her thoughts hidden. I could not read where you were, or where I should go. It was quite the accomplishment. I searched her mind thoroughly, looking for any bit of information I could use to track you down. But, true to her word, she said she'd never tell. I heard Paganini, found her rapidly reciting every word of Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I could not help but notice her homage to the memory of you. I broke through her firewalls; pushing past her memories of long nights, sultry, humid, naked, diamond skin. Pushed past her pain, her memories. It was hard. But nothing could stop me.

I left, hopeless. Her mind was too wrapped up. I could tell your location was in the middle of it, past walls I could never break through. Alice the Psychologist. Too much time in the psych ward had obviously benefited her, although I'd never had to try until now. I traveled to Italy. I hesitated outside the gates of the city, knowing that if I walked in and asked to die, they would kill me. I also knew that nobody would stop me this time.

I left. I did not enter. For as long as I knew you were on this earth, as long as there was a smidgen of a chance that I could even see your face, then I did not want to die. I was selfish. I did not want to die.

I studied in Italy, then. I caught up on my Italian, I studied in ancient libraries, I hunted outside the cities at night, in the clear countryside, on European deer. On weekends, I ran. I hunted. I swam in the Channel. I thought about where you might be. I climbed the Russian steppes, I wrote papers. I earned another degree. I sent my graduation cap to my family to be hung on the wall one dark night. I did not get a response.

I did not go looking for you. I did not catch your scent. You'd never been to Europe. There was a whole side of the world that never knew your face, your scent, the sound of your laugh. I was envious of them. I was envious in the sense that they did not know your face. They did not know the impossible night I lived in now that I knew your face and could not see. Could not touch.

I am still running through the trees in my mind, and somewhere, I find you. And you let me touch you again. You smile at me, a dazzling, pure proof of beauty. But I am not running in this world. I am writing these words to you, my candle running low, my pen on paper. I am writing, and you will never read. Like I will never touch your face so soft at night again, you will never read these words.

Tu me manques. The French said it better than I ever will. You are missing from me.

ALICE Cullen was not changed. Her pixie face was perhaps more strained than I remembered, but the sight of her sent a flood of memories, associations that I didn't think I remembered anymore. My wedding. Alice's pinched face, her satisfaction when I sat there like a lily in my wedding dress. Alice, hiding when I was pregnant with the baby. Alice, my best friend. The betrayal I felt after being turned. You were supposed to be my best friend. The resentment. The recoiling at her touch. The waves of hurt, shock.

"Bella," She breathed. Jasper quietly left the room. "How are you holding up?"

I knew at once I did not have to lie. Alice saw my future, my past, everything. She'd seen things I'd done- I'd felt- before they had even happen to me.

I had already forgiven Jasper. He was the first. I'd forgiven him the moment he'd taken my pain away that one glorious moment so many years ago, yet I hadn't admitted it to myself until now. And I felt myself forgiving Alice now.

"My father is dying." I said, voice low. "I want to go to him. One last time." My voice caught in my throat, and I looked away.

"Oh, Bella," Alice said, taking one of my hands cautiously. Surprisingly, I let her. It was strange. It was the first touch I'd had in years, and it felt strange; not exactly bad, but very foreign. But her hand was warm to me and smooth, verging on soft. "I'll get you ready, sweetie. We've got everything here to lessen the blow to Charlie."

Alice sat me in a chair in the bathroom, and set to work. "He's very fragile, Bella." Alice explained. "I'm going to put you in some makeup to make you look human so that you don't shock him. To someone in Charlie's condition, shock is very, very bad."

I simply nodded, accepting. She curled bits of my hair and sprayed it with hairspray and some other kind of spray to make it slightly messy, a little rumpled, like I'd forgotten to brush it. She smothered my skin in makeup- ivory shades of expensive foundation that lessened the pallor of my skin. She applied blush and gloss to my cheeks, to make me look fresh, and contoured my face in an attempt to bring some humanity back to me. She placed itchy contact lenses in my eyes, much to my resigned dismay, and handed me a worn pair of jeans and a t-shirt- which I immediately recognized. They were actually an old outfit that I'd left at the Cullen's in a suitcase when I left. I brought them to my nose and sniffed. They still smelled slightly like Human Bella- floral and warm and with an enticing, biting undertone.

"You smelled good," Alice said, a small, hesitant smile on her lips.

"Yes," I agreed quietly. Alice brought over a small mirror.

"Of course, it's not exact." Alice said quietly. "But you're supposed to be a bit older, anyway, and he hasn't seen you in more than half a decade. Human memories compensate. He'll recognize you, at least. I couldn't say the same if you still looked like a vampire. But you will have to change out your contacts; the ones I put in will dissolve in roughly four hours due to the venom in our eyes. I put some extra pairs in your purse." Alice handed me a small brown bag, again, which I recognized. I opened it. My old wallet, complete with my old license- long since expired. A few twenties, along with what I guessed to be five fifties and even a few hundreds. A heavy, pure black credit card. Extra contacts, just as Alice had said. Some powder foundation. A glossy, new iPhone. And a set of car keys. I pulled those out; the emblem said Volvo, and I looked outside to see a small black car in the driveway.

"Thank you, Alice." I murmured, turning the keys over in my hand.

"Of course." Alice said immediately. "They're all yours, anyway. Nobody in the family wanted to take anything away from you. The passcode on the phone is your old birthday. Esme's gotten a new phone for you every year since you've been gone, even if Jasper says it's silly."

I smiled wistfully, a little sadly. "Tell her I said thanks. I'm going to go now, Alice." I walked to the door then, but paused a little and looked back. "In a couple hours, would you join us? Charlie always loved you. And I'm sure he'll want to say goodbye."

"Always, Bella." Alice agreed, her eyes locking mine. "I'll text you when I'm outside."

I disappeared outside without another word; I didn't need to say anything else. I wasn't sure if it was Jasper or myself, but I felt at peace with her. It was me, I decided. Jasper wouldn't intervene like that- not after he'd known my pain. But I knew he sensed my peace, wherever he was, and so I willed myself to send a wave of thanks to Jasper for coming to get me. "You're welcome, Bella." I heard a soft voice say as I stepped into the Volvo and closed the door quietly.

The engine purred as the car came to life. There were exactly three miles on the dash. I heard the stereo play a soft, lilting version of Clair de Lune on the NPR station, and I turned up the lovely music as I shifted the car into drive and began the drive to my old home, to where my father lay dying.

THE CAR drove so smoothly, I barely caught myself going eighty in a fifty-five until I happened to glance at the low dashboard. By then, I was almost there, anyway. It had started to lightly rain, and a cool mist blew over my face as I stepped out of the car and crossed the threshold to my childhood home. It was nearly exactly as how I'd left it, although the paint was peeling a little now, and Charlie's old Cruiser had been swapped out for what I recognized with a pang as my beloved old truck. I'd thought Edward junked it the summer before I was turned; after it'd died, I'd never seen it again at my house nor his. But based on the new tires and a small dreamcatcher hanging from the mirror, I quickly came to the assumption that someone on the reservation had gotten ahold of it and fixed it back up again. I was grateful. I wondered if it belonged to my father again, or if someone else was driving it now. It was the only car in the driveway, but I didn't fool myself that Charlie was the only one in the house. Although my father wouldn't even suspect what I was, I knew that there was a good chance that whoever was in the house with him sure as hell would.

I paused for a moment and took a deep, intentional breath of air before I braced myself to knock on the door. Testing it. A flurry of scents overtook me; a wet, thumping, human blood smell, rich with iron and woodsmoke. Billy Black. And a weaker, diluted form of the smell I'd smelled earlier on the clothes I was now wearing, although it stung my nose and sent a jolt of panic through me. I could smell the sickness in his blood. It was bad, very bad. I had no instinct to drink his blood; only to recoil. He was very close to death. As far as Billy, I could hold my breath. It wasn't any more tempting than any other human I'd run across since I was turned.

I raised my hand to rap sharply on the door; perhaps a little too sharply, for I heard both of them start. Billy wheeled slowly to the door, unlocking it and peering outside distrustfully. His visage of distrust did not fade in the slightest once he saw me; I saw a flicker of recognition and shock before he hastily composed his features into a mask of hard suspicion.

"Who is it?" I heard my dad call out, briefly, hopefully. I wanted to be six years old again, and be able to jump into his arms, away from the wave pools at the La Push beach. I wanted to be seventeen years old again, actually seventeen, and take back those words I'd hurled at him to get away from James. I wanted to be eighteen years old again, and spend all those moments I'd wasted on Edward with my father, who would die. Until that moment with Billy Black staring at me through hooded eyes, I'd never truly thought my father would die, in the way that all children with living parents do. I'd never actually believed it; I couldn't. And now I was a vampire, and I would never die. And I would watch my own father, my own flesh, my own blood, die, and I would carry that around with me until the day the world ended.

"Just one second, Charlie." Billy called back, his voice leaving no clues. I heard my dad grumble to himself, disappointment clearly in his vague complaints. It hurt my heart to think of how these last five years, he'd probably spent every doorbell, every knock, every phone call hoping that it was me, only to be soul-crushingly disappointed when it never was. Dad, I'm sorry, I thought to myself desperately, my soul burning. I'm so sorry.

"Bella, what are you doing here?" Billy asked me in a low voice.

"Saying goodbye," I answered, my voice thick.

He looked me in the eyes for several moments before his gaze suddenly softened and I smelled salt as he looked away. I knew he was thinking about Jacob. "I know what you are." He replied. "You're not Bella anymore."

"No." I agreed quietly. "Not really. But I won't hurt him, Billy. I've never hurt a human before. And he's my father-" My voice halted again. "He needs to see me. You know that. The Cullens found me to tell me he asked for me. You, of all people, have to know he doesn't think that I died in that house fire."

"No, he doesn't." Billy finally confirmed after a long moment. The rain was starting to pick up, and Billy fully opened the door, letting me walk in. I inhaled. The smell of my childhood above all; gunsmoke, leather, and flannel shirts. Knit blankets. Dusty, lovable Charlie.

The kitchen cabinets were still painted yellow.

"I got someone to see you, Charlie." Billy said gruffly. "It might be a surprise, so brace yourself, Chief Swan."

I walked into the door, and saw my father's mouth drop open in full surprise. His heart rate picked up so rapidly I was scared for a moment that he would have some kind of cardiac event. As I walked slowly to him in alarm, his heart rate began to slow down, and a look of amazement and wonder overtook his face. I looked at him, and he looked at me. He looked older, more wrinkled, and he had started to go gray around his temples. He looked sick, too, but I'd expected that, had prepared myself for it. He wasn't hooked up to anything, but there was a hospital bed with a detached IV bag in the living room that he was laying on instead of a couch, and he was a lot thinner, although he'd never been fat. "Bells!" He exclaimed. He held out his arms, and I leaned into him as I heard Billy loudly suck in his breath behind me. I ignored him.

"Dad, I'm so glad to see you." I said, muffled by the flannel shirt he had on. I could smell the sickness concentrated in his abdomen, near what I assumed was his pancreas, and then more up near his neck, his lymph nodes. It'd metastasized. Either Jasper didn't tell me that, or it was a recent development.

We pulled away, and Charlie looked at me with a sheer wave of radiating happiness across his features. He studied me, and I saw not only recognition, but more amazement the longer he looked at me. "Bella, you're so beautiful," He wondered out loud. Behind us, Billy snorted, and I flipped him off behind my back. Charlie didn't notice. "You're all grown up now. I-" He faltered, and a look of concern took over his features. "Are you safe? Did Edward hurt you?"

"No, Dad," I told him, the epitome of persuasion. He immediately relaxed back into his pillow, and I continued with the same persuasive tone to ease all of his worry. "Edward and I got a divorce. You were right, Dad. We were too young."

"What about the fire story?" He asked, his eyes searching mine. "I would have taken you back home, Bells. You could have stayed as long as you liked, gone to school in the Cities. I-" His eyes filled with tears. "I would have wanted you here. I would have died to get you back." He stammered, coughed a little, smiled weakly at me. "I am dying to get you back, Bella."

"No, Dad, don't say that," I whispered, horrified. I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find composure. "I had a miscarriage, Dad. After, I was institutionalized for a few years. It was bad. Edward staged a house fire. His family, to this day, believes it. He didn't want anyone to know I was institutionalized, and he ran away. I haven't seen him in years. Alice and Jasper finally tracked him down and he came clean about me being alive. That's how I found you, Dad."

Charlie's eyes were wide. He believed every word, although I could practically feel tidal waves of skepticism coming of Billy. "Bella, no," He croaked out. "I'm so sorry, Bells. I'm so, so sorry." He gripped one of my pale hands in his, but didn't even notice a temperature difference. "That bastard. Bella, I hate to say it, but I always knew what kind of man he was. Ever since the beginning. The biggest coward of them all. He's not even a man at all."

"That's for damn right." Billy muttered behind us.

"How far along were you?" Charlie asked. I froze, and he quickly followed up with, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's okay," I said quietly. "Three months, give or take. We were waiting to see if the baby was healthy. She was a girl, a perfect little girl. Her name is Renesmee Carlie Cullen." I smiled at him. "Carlie. Like you, Dad."

Charlie smiled broadly. "Renesmee Carlie," He repeated to himself, a pleased tone to his voice. "That's beautiful, kid."

"Thank you." I said. "You would have loved her."

"Of course I would have." Charlie replied. "I do, Bella." He gave my hand a soft squeeze, his deep brown eyes locking on mine. "I'll see her soon, Bells. I'll take care of her up there, I promise." A few tears leaked from his eyes. "Don't worry," He continued. "She'll have Grandpa up there until you come to take care of her."

"Thank you, Dad." I croaked out, my voice thick, the closest I got to crying. "I've missed you. I'm so sorry I didn't come home sooner. I'm sorry for everything. For not spending enough time with you, for not coming home. I'm sorry about- about when I left to go to Florida when I was a junior and I got so hurt. I'm sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, any of it. It's just- I had to get away, and I knew that was the only way you'd let me leave. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." I burrowed my head into his flannel, feeling like a little girl again. I felt his hot tears hit my scalp, and his hand rest against the back of my head, holding me to him. His heartbeat in my eyes sounded so loud, yet I knew he had so little time left.

"It's okay, Bella." He told me, voice strong. "I love you so much, kid. I always forgave you. For everything. Of course I forgave you, I was never mad. I understand. He had- such a hold over you. But, Bella." Charlie pulled me up to look at me, face blazing. "Don't you ever go back to him, you hear me? You move on with your life. You listen to me. You can love someone and not go back. He's not right for you. You stay away, no matter what he says. Promise me, Bella."

I stared at him, transfixed. "I promise, Dad."

His face relaxed again. "Thank you, Bella. There wasn't a day that went by that I wasn't scared it was all some elaborate plan to get you away with him, to take you away from everyone who loved you. The only thing that stopped me from starting a formal investigation was the rest of the Cullen's. I didn't think Carlisle would ever go along with something like that."

"You're right." I said softly. "You've always been right, Dad."

Charlie's face was clear, yet so tired. "I'm not gonna say you're wrong, Bells." We lapsed into a comfortable, resolved silence, with my father's arm and mine intertwined. Billy changed the channel to an old showing of a football game, and we sat there that night, me, my father, and Billy. The vampire, the human, and the old warrior. We sat there, afternoon winter light fading into a dark dusk, and my phone buzzed some hours later.

Alice was outside.

When I opened the door, she cautiously walked in. I'd pulled Billy aside to give him the rundown on her later, and he'd grudgingly asked if there were any more bloodsuckers we should watch out for. I'd had to hide a smile, getting flashbacks to my old Jacob, thinking sadly how much Billy's outlook would have had to change on vampires as a whole if Renesmee had been born.

Billy had asked me to wait before I went to get Alice, who was patiently waiting outside, despite the then-pouring rain. "That story you told your dad," He'd began. "How much of that was true?"

"I really was pregnant." I stated softly. "Edward aborted her. He took her away. She wasn't a monster, Billy," I began, seeing the expression on his face. "She was a baby, just like any other- with a few differences. She was half-vampire. And Jacob." I said, seeing the look on his face at the mention of his dead son but choosing to continue. "She was Jacob's imprint, Billy. In the time before I was changed, I saw them both in some kind of afterlife. Jacob said our souls died when she did. That's why- that's why he killed himself. It wasn't because of me; it was because of her."

Billy looked me in the eye, and I could tell he believed me. A raw, pleading honest note had entered my voice, the kind that can't be replicated. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Billy." I added. "But trust me, and please don't take this the wrong way, he's with her now, and he's happier. Imagine if Sam lost Emily. That's how Jake would have been. You wouldn't have been able to stand it."

Billy nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss, too, Bella." He gazed at me. "And about what your dad said, about Edward not being a real man. Even if it's true in the literal sense, it's true in the metaphorical sense, too, Bella. A real man- a real husband would never have taken that choice away from you. He was wrong. And I can see now that we are all hurt by his decisions."

Billy began to wheel away from the kitchen, back to Charlie, who was coughing softly. "Thanks for telling me, Bella." He called softly. "I appreciate your honesty." I had no doubt in my mind that Billy would tell the others about our conversation, but I didn't mind. I just hoped that Edward would never come back to Forks, because as long as Sam Uley or any of the rest of the pack was around- which would be for quite a while- they would kill him in a second if they even caught scent of him.

But Alice had been outside, and I had to let her in. The last thing that crossed my mind before she crossed the threshold was her brother. Edward. My husband.

I wasn't sure if I'd be upset if Sam or the rest of the pack killed him someday. I wasn't sure if I'd feel anything at all.

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews so far! I've been toying around with this idea for a while now and I really appreciate all of the feedback, because it's all so positive and nice and some of it actually makes me think- like the whole "what now?" review that really made me motivated to make this story my own and make something happen! I always appreciate reviews and I'm not going to be one of "those" authors who ~demands~ reviews, but they seriously make my day and if you have anything to say or add or offer, please let me know! Constructive criticism is also always welcome :)