A/N for 2019-02-11: Thank you all, for your kind words in the reviews. Glad so many of you have stuck with this, and encouraged. Many thanks again to Eeyorefan12 for their Beta work. Any mistakes are my own, as I tinkered with the text afterwards.

Until next time!

~ Erin

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward said, frowning as he folded his arms and leaned back against the rough brick of the alley wall.

"Do you doubt me?" Bella asked. She arched a perfect eyebrow at him in question.

"Of course not. But it's habit for me to worry. Give me some time to adjust."

Bella huffed out an impatient breath and blinked uncomfortably. Her contacts still irritated her when she thought about them.

Yes, it had only been a month. Edward would lose his inclination to worry over her in time.

She needed to be patient. He had been.

"Besides, I'd like to see this," he added.

The growl that bubbled up from her throat was so primal that her mind barely registered it.

Edward glanced at her with concern, but said nothing.

She stopped the sound, grimacing a little.

"You're doing great," Edward murmured, his hand reaching out and brushing hers. The touch sent a shiver up her arm. Everything still felt so much more intense, especially with him.

Thoughts of other things they could do, instead of what they'd planned, tickled the periphery of her consciousness, but she wrestled her attention back to her task.

They waited a few minutes, scanning the street and then the bar where Edward knew David was.

"There he is," Edward whispered.

Bella followed his gaze. Her human memories were fuzzy, but clear enough for her to recognize him.

She let out a long sigh. She'd have liked to have dispensed with this ugly business as a human, but little Renée's surprising arrival had interfered with those plans.

Bella stilled what felt like a spasm in her chest. She had to remind herself that their baby was safe.

"What is it?" Edward asked.

"Renée." she answered. No other explanation was required.

She'd never thought she'd be so grateful for the ritual kinship that Billy and Jacob had insisted on, but it had saved her life—both human, and vampire. And her daughter's.

Because of that tie, Sam had been forced to keep his deep suspicions about the pregnancy in check. Edward told her later that Sam's fears were almost as strong as his own had been.

She had purposefully sought to remember as much of her human life as she could in her new vampire life. That small ceremony Billy had performed when he and Jacob had brought her home had made her as Quileute as they were, at least according to the tribe's customs.

That kinship hadn't prevented Sam from audibly making his concerns—and threats—known, but it had prevented him from acting on them prematurely.

She shivered a little, remembering his arrival at the house. She'd had to tell Edward not to throw him out, and then Emmett too.

They'd come to an arrangement with Sam, that if their baby was a danger, they would leave.

Edward hadn't said much about how he'd convinced Jacob to argue for the option to change Bella, if it was needed. She suspected it had been too painful for him to talk about; he had been so terrified for her.

She was now simply grateful for the outcome.

They were all safe.

And Renée . . . she sighed to herself. The image of her daughter's beautiful auburn curls and wide, trusting eyes floated in her mind.

"Be here with me, love." Edward hushed out.

She nodded, letting her eyes take in the scene before her.

"Humans are breakable," he reminded her for the umpteenth time, but then jerked his chin in the direction she was to go as he took a step backwards..

It was up to her now.

She watched as David walked down the street. His gait was steady, but there was an occasional misstep. His scent told her he'd been drinking.

Good.

That made this easier.

She followed him, staying just over a block behind, her own steps deliberately casual.

When her prey took a sharp right into a quiet side street, Bella increased her pace. The night, and its light drizzle meant there would be few eyes observing them.

He stepped abruptly into a convenient shadow, unzipping his fly, urinating against a building wall.

She waited unseen, nose wrinkling.

As he finished, Bella stepped forward, making her footfalls deliberately audible.

"Remember me?" she asked.

He whipped his head around, face paling as he caught sight of her.

A wave of pleasure rippled through her, witnessing the reaction her sight inspired. She smiled widely, and he took a pronounced step backwards. "Do you?" she asked, matching his movement.

He nodded.

"Good," she purred.

"What d'you want?" he asked, a slight tremble to his voice.

"I want your confession."

Then he stopped, a bubble of ugly laughter colouring his words. "And what's that . . . fucking some whores?"

Her growl was low and menacing. And just loud enough to be audible to him.

His laughter ended in a nervous swallow.

Slowly, Bella took another step forward, letting the streetlamp illuminate her form. She'd dressed in jeans and a plain black shirt, adding a deep blue leather jacket to the ensemble. It would look warm enough to keep the cold off of her and would deflect any dirt—or bodily fluids—that might land on it.

Not that she planned on there being many of those.

She had pointedly avoided thinking about what David had done. She hadn't wanted that memory sharpened as she entered into this life, but Edward's deliberate motions to silence the sound of his unbuckling belt told her that he was afraid of reminding her of something.

"Take off your belt," she said now.

"What?"

"Take off your belt."

"Fuck off," he said, and then unwisely—so unwisely—turned away.

She felt a moment of panic when she heard his head thunk against the concrete wall. Had she done it with too much force? Had she killed him?

There was no smell of blood though, and his eyes still seemed alert as they flicked back and forth in their wide sockets, searching for something.

Answers, perhaps.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"Right now, I'm the woman who's waiting for your apology."

"Apology for what?"

Her grip tightened.

"I'm so-rrry!" he sputtered out.

"For what?"

"For hurting you."

She growled.

"You were a prostitute—what did you expect?" he whined.

What did she expect from men who used prostitutes?

Not much.

"You might not have known I was underage, but you knew the others were."

His stuttering heart confirmed this, but he said nothing.

She was growing impatient with him and put her hand to his groin, grabbing and twisting.

Bella hadn't realized men could shriek so loudly. So shrilly.

Letting go, she sighed with impatience.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I'm sorry for what I did!"

"Good start," she muttered. "Keep going."

He did, words tumbling out in increasingly grizzly—and ugly—details.

When she'd heard enough, she hissed out a low, "Stop."

He did, like a well-trained dog.

"I'm going to leave you for the police. You're going to confess to everything you did. Just like you did right now, only you're going to tell them everything. Are we clear?"

He nodded.

"And if you don't, I'll know. Do you believe me?"

More nodding.

"Good. I will know. And I will do everything you've ever done to those girls, and more, except with a nice big stick. Got it?"

"Yes."

He'd begun to sweat and the odour of it unearthed the spectre of that human memory. Her next words were hissed out in a low and guttural voice. "Give me your belt."

He didn't object this time, but pulled it off quickly, ripping one of his trouser loops as he hastily handed it to her.

She admired the angles David's body made, hands and feet tied together behind his back with his belt, face in the grass. The small park was well-treed, poorly-lit, and conveniently located a block away from the Tillamook State Police department.

She found an appreciable symmetry in these circumstances.

Before leaving him, she pinned a letter to his back that she, Edward, and Jasper had typed up, detailing his crimes.

"Enjoy waiting," she whispered, smiling. "I'm sure it won't be longer than I had to for you."

She had no plans to delay phoning her tip in, but she hoped he suffered while he had to wait. Wondering.

Worrying.

It almost felt like too petty a revenge, but within the realm of possible choices, it was a small one for an immortal creature to take.

His face was in the grass, lips moving in some silent supplication. Taking one last look at her handiwork, she disappeared into the shadows.

Edward was waiting a short distance away.

"Good work," he said.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting his embrace. "Now let's go home."

Hands linked, they slipped into the night, ready to embrace the many possibilities an eternity together offered them.

- Fin -

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.