Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N:This was originally written for the Fandoms Fight the Floods to all of you who contributed to Queensland Flood Relief. I am so pleased with the response of our fandoms once the plea went out for help…and so glad to be a part of it.

I was very reluctant to write an alternate ending for Beyond Time. The ending was the ending I had always imagined for the story, so to explore a different possibility was really difficult for me. However, it is for a good cause, so I did my best and I hope you like it. Thanks to my beta, tiffanyanne3, for helping ensure this all made some sort of crazy sense.

This takes up in the middle of Chapter 32 - Bella has donated her blood to Edward and his mother, in the hopes that a transfusion of her vaccinated blood might be able to save them. She's been waiting for days at their bedsides, hoping for some sign that the transfusions have worked. At Samantha's insistence, she's gone out to get some air, and ended up in the church where she'd attended her first meeting of the Chicago Women's Association. The first portion is an excerpt from Chapter 32, just to set up where we are…

"Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Alternate Ending – Of Diaries and Destiny

Please…

Please don't take him. I don't know how I can go on without him.

I don't know who I am without him.

I didn't have much practice with prayer, but I thought maybe God needed some indication of my sincerity.

I don't know what you want from me, I admitted, my eyes wandering over the glimmering wood. But I'll do anything. I need him. A choked sob escaped my lips and I realized my cheeks were damp with tears.

I can't believe you sent me here only to watch him die. Please…please let him come back to me.

He's all I need. Please…

I heard a hushed murmuring and it took a few minutes for me to recognize my own voice. I was chanting, "Please…please…please…" over and over.

I swiped at my eyes, glancing around quickly, but no one seemed to notice my unconscious rambling. They were all caught up in their own prayers. My eyes returned to the cross and I stood abruptly, straightening my shoulders.

Okay, I thought with a nod. I'd done the best I could. I turned to walk out of the church, hoping that someone had been listening.

I hurried back to the hospital, only stopping briefly to grab a biscuit and some ham, which I gulped down along the way. I strode purposefully through the waiting room, unable to fight the strange feeling that was surging through me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was it dread? Hope? Resignation?

All I knew was that something…something had changed. There was no explanation for my odd perceptions, but I'd given up on trying to make sense of anything in my life. Instead, I rushed to the ward, stopping short when I saw Carlisle and Samantha huddled over Edward's bed. My stomach flipped as my mind flashed through a macabre slideshow of my worst fears – Edward gone…me alone…no hope…no future.

No life.

But Carlisle's head snapped up, and it took a moment for his expression to register in my muddled mind.

He was…smiling.

"What's happened?" I asked frantically, rushing to Edward's side and picking up his limp hand. "What is it?"

"Bella." Samantha's voice drew my attention, and once again I was startled at the sunny smile lighting her features as well. "It's a miracle."

I felt my heart stop briefly before starting again in a slow, steady thud. "What…what do you mean?"

"It's too soon to say for sure." Carlisle said as he shot Samantha a scolding glance, but it was tempered by his own grin. "But Edward's fever…it appears to have broken."

I collapsed into a chair, afraid to fan the little glimmer of hope burning in my chest into a full-fledged flame. "Are you saying the transfusion…it worked?" I asked, mystified.

Carlisle crouched down to look me in the eye, his golden gaze meeting mine steadily. "He's not out of the woods yet, Bella. There is still a chance that this is just a temporary reprieve and he could relapse." At my crestfallen look, he added quickly, "But it's a good sign…a very good sign."

Tears pricked my eyes, and I looked up to see Samantha's were also glistening. She bent down, wrapping her arms around me gently.

"He's going to be all right, Bella," she murmured quietly in my ear. "I just know it."

All I could do was nod, words frozen in my throat as I hugged her back.

I sat by Edward's bedside, watching him carefully. My eyes searched pathetically for something…anything…that would indicate he was coming back to me.

Was his breathing getting deeper? Did his eyelids just flicker? Did I just feel him squeeze my hand?

His mother's condition was largely unchanged, which worried me, but Carlisle said it was actually a good thing. She was worse off than Edward when she received the transfusion, so it made sense that it would take longer for her to see any improvements.

If she was going to see any improvements.

The big If. It ruled my life now.

If Edward recovered…

If his mother did as well…

If, once all was said and done, I was allowed to stay in 1918 by whatever force sent me there in the first place…

If we could find a way to make a life together with a new, unknown future ahead of us…

Then…

I couldn't even imagine the then at that point. But I still couldn't keep my hope from growing with every passing hour. Something within me – I didn't know if it was some sort of special insight or just naiveté fueled by wishful thinking – but something told me he was coming back to me. It was like I was linked to the Edward trapped inside his weakened body, and he was fighting his way back out.

I stood, stretching to ease my stiffened muscles and reached for the bowl and cloth I'd been using to bathe Mrs. Masen's brow. I wrung out the cloth, stroking it over her pale skin and my fingers brushed her forehead lightly.

I froze. Was her skin cooler? Or was it more wishful thinking?

I dumped the cloth back into the bowl hastily, sloshing some water onto the bedside table. Holding my breath, I laid my palm on her forehead tentatively, at first thinking the slight sheen of water on her skin was responsible for the lack of heat I felt.

But the longer I stood there hunched eagerly over her still form, the more I realized it wasn't the water. Her fever was definitely down. My skin began to tingle with excitement.

"Bella?"

It took a moment for the voice to cut through my surge of exhilaration.

"Bella? What's happening?" Shocked, I whirled around to see Edward watching me with confused eyes.

"Edward?"

His eyes drifted closed momentarily. "Is my mother…all right?" he rasped.

"Edward!" I fell to my knees on the floor next to him, my hands fluttering over him, unsure of what to do. "Are you in pain? Do you need anything?"

His head turned on the pillow, his lips lifting into a slight smile. "Thirsty," he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

"Yes…of course!" I reached for the pitcher on the bedside table. My hands trembled as I poured some water into a glass, then lifted it to his lips, supporting his head with my other arm. He drank thirstily before collapsing back on the pillow.

"God, Edward…" Tears sprang to my eyes as I sat back down on the chair beside him, reaching for his forehead. I smiled at the coolness there, then slid my fingers up into his hair, leaning down to rest my cheek on his chest. His heart beat strong and steady, and after a moment he lifted his hand to rest it on my head. I looked up at him and felt a rush of relief at the improved color on his handsome face. I knew, in that moment, that he would be all right.

"I thought I'd lost you. I thought you'd-" Sobs absorbed my words and I wept into Edward's chest, his fingers stroking my hair soothingly as he just let me cry.

From the Journal of Isabella Masen

December 21, 1918

I've never had a diary. I never thought I'd be interested enough in my own thoughts to write them down, let alone go back and read them someday. Yet, given my rather unusual circumstances, I've decided it might be a good idea to create a record of my experiences. I figure if Carlisle, who remembers everything, finds it valuable to keep scrapbooks, it can't be that lame to have a journal.

Edward's been home from the hospital for almost two months now, and is getting stronger every day. It was difficult for him at first. His recovery took longer than he expected, or had the patience to deal with. Simple activities exhausted him, and the more – um…let's say 'taxing' – pursuits were just impossible for quite a while.

I quickly learned how impatient Edward could be. Although I was too. It was difficult for both of us not to be able to be together for so long. Fortunately, those days are behind us.

We moved back into Edward's parents' house. Neither one of us wanted to leave his mother alone, even if she was healthy enough to take care of herself. Her recovery has been even slower than Edward's – partially due, I'm sure, to the grief over losing her husband. It hasn't been easy for her, but I think it helps to have us there.

Since they've come home, Carlisle's been like a dog with a bone about this flu vaccine. He's forever asking me for more blood samples – the irony of which is not lost on me, I assure you.

He says it's all been a huge help with his research, although he says it will take decades, if not longer, to duplicate the vaccine. Fortunately, the outbreak is on the decline, and I know it's almost over.

Edward got a job with the post office and plans to enroll in college in the Spring. He started making noises again about joining the army, but it hadn't been hard to convince him otherwise. His mother needed him…and a little over a month ago the war ended, kind of making it all a moot point anyway. On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the hostilities between the Allies and Germany ended – and it was actually pretty cool to know that a year later, I'd be witness to the very first Veteran's Day, although they'd call it Armistice Day.

It's amazing to be a part of history like this, to be perfectly honest. There are times that my other life seems so far away – almost like a dream. I ache for my parents and my friends, wondering how they're dealing with whatever's become of me. But mostly, I try to live day by day…because really, I have no control over any of it. And I couldn't face the future with Edward if I spent all my time mourning the past.

It wasn't always easy, but it was the only choice I had.

My fears about returning to the future seem to ease with every day I spend here. I truly believe that I've done what I was meant to do…that I've earned my life with Edward, my second chance.

Still, there's a greater fear that's begun to worm its way into my happiness. It's one I haven't even mentioned to Edward, although I've told him everything else about my crazy life.

But that fear is the real reason I decided to keep this journal…to go back and write down everything that's happened to me since that first day in Biology class when I met Edward Cullen.

I saved Edward. He never became a vampire.

So that means…I never met him.

And if I never met him. I never came back to 1918 to save him.

Yeah, it makes my head spin. But after going round and round, I came to the only logical conclusion.

Someday, Carlisle would have to send me back…with perhaps a little help…

"What are you doing?" Edward walked into our bedroom, crossing to stand behind me where I sat at a little desk. He rested his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently as he looked down at the desk. "You started the journal?"

I nodded. "Just now. How's your mom?"

"Sleeping. The party really tired her." We'd had some friends over earlier for a Christmas party. Edward's mother had glowed like I hadn't seen since before her husband died, and even insisted on making her special eggnog. It was wonderful to see a smile on her face.

"I'm glad she had a good time," I said distractedly, patting Edward's hand and sighing heavily as my gaze dropped back to the journal.

"Having trouble?" Edward asked, insightful as always.

I laughed slightly. "You could say that. I know I need to write it all down, but I'm not exactly sure how to begin."

He leaned down to kiss my cheek before turning to walk across the room, unbuttoning his shirt. "Well, you know what they say. Begin at the beginning." He winked at me, and I snickered slightly.

"Well, that's a little easier said than done in this particular situation." I closed the book, turning in my seat to face him. A familiar heat built in my stomach as Edward slid his suspenders off his shoulders, shrugging out of his shirt, then pulling his undershirt up and off his lean frame. His back was to me, so I took the opportunity to shamelessly examine his body – lingering on his broad shoulders…the curved indentation of his spine…the slight flare of flesh just below his waist. He had gained back most of the weight he'd lost while he'd been ill and was filling out in the most delicious way. The muscles in his back rippled as he unbuttoned his trousers.

"Yes, I understand that," he said on a chuckle, "but it's still-" His words cut off as he turned his head and caught me ogling his rather impressive ass. A slow smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as his eyes darkened intensely.

"What are you looking at, Isabella?" he asked quietly. Edward knew that I hated my full name, but had recently discovered that when he said it in that particular tone, in this particular type of situation, I didn't hate it quite so much.

Okay, I liked it. A lot.

I squirmed in my seat as he slowly turned to face me. He abandoned the buttons on his trousers, but the top few were undone, leaving them hanging low on his hips. "Nothing," I replied, blushing furiously as I forced my eyes off the tempting bones angling down alongside his stomach and back up to his face. His grin widened and he scratched lazily at his ribs, drawing my attention there.

He totally knew what he was doing. Aware that I was watching his every move, he trailed his fingers downward, running them along the waistband of his trousers. He once again grasped his buttons – unfastening the last few – and I swallowed thickly, my mouth dry and my heart beating wildly. His fly parted around his boxer-clad erection, and I waited for it to come into full view. Instead, Edward's hand slid inside his pants, rubbing slowly along his cotton-covered thickness.

I whimpered impatiently without even realizing it, and Edward laughed. My eyes shot up to find him smiling teasingly, although the stark desire in his eyes belied his casual expression.

He was just as worked up as I was.

Without a word I stood up and stalked over to him, planting my hands on his chest and shoving him backward. He fell back onto the bed and I lifted my skirts slightly, climbing up to straddle him.

"You. Are a tease," I said, emphasizing my point with a poke to his hard chest.

His hands immediately went to my hips, squeezing and pulling me against him. "No teasing, Isabella," he murmured, tilting his head to suck gently at my neck. "I'm just pleased that for once the shoe is on the other foot."

I pulled back slightly, breathless, as I looked him in the eye. "What do you mean?"

His hands slid down my thighs, then back up under my skirts tantalizingly. "You torment me endlessly, Bella," he replied on a groan. "It's a miracle I ever get anything done. Ninety percent of my time is occupied with thinking of how I can lure you to this bed."

I pouted playfully in mock offense. "What about the other ten percent?"

Edward grinned. "Eating."

I pinched his side and Edward jerked, forcing a gasp from my lips as his erection brushed against me enticingly. I fell forward as he thrust against me – more purposefully this time – but caught myself before our heads collided, my hands braced on the bed on either side of his face. I leaned down, my lips brushing his slightly.

"Better be careful," I cautioned. "Wouldn't want to hurt you."

Edward grinned, then did something completely unexpected. He lifted his head slightly, sucked my bottom lip into his mouth…

…and bit it.

Good lord. I trembled from head to toe as a surge of heat raced through my body.

Edward released my lip with a devilish smirk. "Sometimes a little pain is nice," he murmured, before tangling his fingers into my hair, dislodging the pins and pulling me into a deep, hot kiss. My bottom lip throbbed slightly, but Edward's tongue ran over the slight indentations left by his teeth, easing the sting.

"Sometimes," he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse as he kissed along my throat, "when we're making love, and you're…lost…" His hands slid under my skirt and up over my ass, then shoved my underwear down. He squeezed my flesh, pressing me even harder against him. I whimpered, unable to keep myself from writhing against him. "Like that," he whispered, thrusting up against me. I felt myself blush, but I couldn't hide my response to him. Since our wedding night, we'd grown closer in every way, and just when I thought our physical relationship couldn't possibly get any better, Edward surprised me by taking me to even higher heights. Since his brush with death, our coupling was sometimes desperate and clinging – like we both realized what we'd almost lost and had to chase away the remnants of that terrible time.

Other times, it was slow and soft…passionate and loving. I never knew what to expect, but it was always amazing.

He might have been a virgin when we married, but good lord, the man had found his way.

"Sometimes, I'll have you under me," he said seductively, continuing the slow grind that he knew drove me crazy as his lips moved to my ear. "You'll cry out and run your fingernails down my back. Sometimes I'll have welts afterward."

"Oh, God," I mumbled, ducking my face into the curve of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to."

"No," Edward said firmly. "Don't apologize. I like it."

I raised my head, still blushing furiously. "You do?"

Edward slid his hand between us, working his pants and underwear down to free his erection. Sliding it against me slowly, he looked into my eyes, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "To know you're as out of control as I am…that you're so caught up in the pleasure you don't know what you're doing? It's…it's…"

"A turn-on?" I offered, my eyes drifting closed as Edward rubbed his thick hardness against me over and over, driving me wild.

"Turn-on?" he repeated questioningly.

I tried to think, but it was really difficult with Edward's hips circling deliciously against me.

"You know…it turns you on?" I said through increasingly harsher pants. "Revs your engine? Gets you going?"

"Ahhh…" Edward said in understanding, his fingers massaging the fullness of my ass, then dipping once between my legs. I moaned at the sensation and he chuckled slightly. "It definitely gets me going."

Before I realized what was happening, Edward had shifted us slightly and entered me in one long, slow, devastating thrust. We groaned in unison, and for the hundredth time I said a prayer of thanks that his mother's bedroom was on the other end of the house.

"The question is," he said through gritted teeth, his fingers clenched on my hips as he drove into me more forcefully. "Do you like it?" He lifted a palm and slapped it against my ass, the resounding smack echoing around the room. My muscles clenched involuntarily and I let out a choked shriek of surprise.

Who knew my proper, Victorian Edward had a kinky side?

Apparently, I did as well, because once the shock of what he'd done subsided, I felt even warmer…wetter. Edward was watching me carefully through hooded eyes, evidently gauging my reaction. I leaned down, running my tongue along his ear.

"Do it again," I whispered.

On a strangled groan, Edward lifted his hand and smacked me again, first on one side, then the other. His cool hands rubbed the warm skin gently, and I found myself pushing back against his touch, which had the added benefit of allowing me to meet his thrusts more fully.

"Bella…" Edward's voice was a choked gasp as he suddenly gripped my hips and rolled us over on the bed. His lips descended to my neck, sucking the tender skin into his mouth so hard that I knew it would leave a mark.

I liked it.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, absently noting that we were still both almost fully clothed. It didn't matter though. Edward plunged into me harshly, biting and sucking my neck – the little twinges of pain only intensifying the waves of pleasure. He shoved my blouse and camisole up over my breasts desperately, moving his attention to my swollen flesh and hardened nipples. I arched against him as he drew one deep into his mouth, pressing it up against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, then dragging his teeth along my skin until he held my pebbled nipple between them.

Without warning or buildup, my body suddenly contracted into a ball of taut expectancy…lingering on the precipice between need and satisfaction for just a brief moment. Then it exploded into wave after crashing wave of blistering ecstasy…shuddering…trembling…clenching in spasms around Edward's swelling erection. He thrust into my climax, meeting me there in the blinding disorientation of overwhelming pleasure…then joining me on the sweet descent to blissful relaxation.

Our harsh breaths filled the air as Edward collapsed on top of me, then shifted to my side, the leg thrown over mine still twisted in his trousers.

"Wow," I said finally.

Edward chuckled. "Do you think it will always be like this?" he asked.

I turned my head to look at him. "I don't know. It might kill us when we're old and gray."

Edward's eyes softened, and he lifted his hand to caress my cheek. "I like that thought…growing old and gray with you."

I leaned into his palm, then kissed it gently. "Me too."

His grin turned evil. "Of course, I don't know what our grandchildren would say if they heard you begging me to spank you."

I smacked his arm playfully, but his words sent a thrill of excitement rushing through me.

"Well," I replied slowly, "before we have grandchildren, it's customary to start with children."

Edward linked his fingers with mine, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. "There's plenty of time for that."

I bit my lip. "Maybe not as much as you think."

It took a full ten seconds for comprehension to dawn.

Edward's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Are you?" he asked hesitantly, his gaze dipping to my stomach.

I smiled. "I think so. I haven't seen a doctor yet, but…yes, I think so."

Edward sat up, turning to me with a look of awe on his face that was so sweet it took my breath away. He laid a hand on my stomach. "You're…carrying my child?" His eyes rose to meet mine and I was shocked to find them glassy with unshed tears.

I laid my hand over his. "Well, it's my child too," I joked, my own eyes brimming.

"Wait!" he said suddenly, his forehead creased in worry as he shot to his feet and pulled up his pants. "Did I hurt him? We shouldn't have— I shouldn't have—"

I sat up, reaching for his hands. "Edward, it's okay. Nothing we did will hurt the baby."

"Are you sure?" he asked frantically. "How do you know? He's so tiny…and I'm so…" He waved at his crotch. I fought the urge to tease him because he was really freaked out. He pulled away, pacing the room as he tugged at his hair. "Maybe we shouldn't…do…that…" He waved absently at the bed. "…anymore."

"Whoa!" I interrupted, not liking that idea one little bit. I held up a hand. "Back up just a second. We are definitely not going to stop doing…that," I said.

"But if it's bad for the baby…"

"Edward, it isn't bad for the baby. I promise." I crossed the room, sliding my arms around his neck. "I would never do anything to hurt the baby, don't you believe that?"

"Well…yes…."

"I'm telling you, it's perfectly safe for us to have sex while I'm pregnant," I told him. "If you need to hear it from a professional, I'd be happy to have Carlisle-"

"That won't be necessary," Edward interrupted stiffly. Although he and Carlisle were getting along better, I'm pretty sure Edward didn't like the idea of him being anywhere near my baby-making area.

He leaned down, his forehead touching mine. "You're absolutely sure it's safe?" he asked.

"Positive."

His lips quirked into a wolfish grin. "Well, that's good to know. I don't know if I could make it nine days without touching you, let alone nine months."

We got undressed and ready for bed, and I found Edward's eyes on me whenever I looked his way. Well, on my stomach, at least. He just smiled sheepishly when I caught him staring, and climbed into bed, flipping the sheets down so I could join him.

I lay down next to him on my back and he leaned over to kiss me softly. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?"

His hand rubbed over my belly reverently. "For this…for him…or her," he added with a grin.

"Well, I haven't done anything yet," I said with a shrug. "Save the thanks for after I've spent hours in labor."

Edward shuddered at the idea, his eyes darkening. I knew, because I knew Edward, that the thought of me giving birth filled him with worry. Regretful that I'd made him think of it, I tried to turn his thoughts.

"Do you want a boy or a girl?" I asked.

Edward grinned and his eyes sparkled, thoughts of labor forgotten for the moment. "Both," he said firmly.

"Oh, God," I moaned my hands flying to my face.

Edward chuckled and slowly lowered his head until his cheek rested on my stomach, his eyes drifting closed. After a moment, I heard a quiet sound and realized he was humming to the baby. I lifted my hand to stroke his hair softly.

He looked up at me. "I love you, Bella. More than you could ever know."

I smiled through the tears pricking at my eyes. "I love you, too."

Later that night, after Edward had fallen asleep, I lay wide awake, my hand splayed on my stomach as I imagined becoming a mother.

Well, at least I wouldn't be an eighteen-year-old mother like I'd once feared. By the time the baby came I'd be almost twenty. Practically middle-aged.

I snorted, and Edward stirred in his sleep.

Wincing, I quietly got out of bed and padded across the room, picking up my journal and heading to the kitchen. I turned on a small lamp and sat down at the breakfast table, flipping the book open to where I'd left off. Taking a deep breath, and considering my words carefully, I began to write.

…But I'll have to do my part. I suppose in the end, that's what this journal is all about. I need to make sure that when the time comes, Carlisle is able to convince me of what needs to be done.

So, I write this for you, Bella. The Bella I was…the Bella you are.

My fate...or I should say OUR fate…is in your hands.

With a soft smile, I took Edward's advice, and began at the beginning.

I'd never given much thought to how I would die…

~Carlisle~

March 5, 2010 - One week before the Quileute ritual, Forks, Washington

I pulled back the curtain and peered out the front window again, scanning the driveway and the darkening forest beyond. After centuries of honing my patience, it was strange to feel it wearing away, replaced by something akin to anxiety.

Alice sighed heavily from her spot on the sofa, drawing my attention away from the front yard.

"He'll be here in about ten minutes, Carlisle," she said absently as she flipped through a fashion magazine. "Looking out the window won't make him arrive any sooner."

"I'm aware of that," I replied, striding quickly to her side. I began to sit, then thought better of it and straightened abruptly. I saw Alice smirk slightly at my indecision. "It's just…we've been waiting for this moment for so long…and there is so much depending on it. If things don't go well…"

"Relax, Carlisle," she said, setting her magazine aside and reaching up to squeeze my hand. "It's going to go fine."

"I'm worried he might not even come."

"He almost didn't." Alice shifted on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her. "He didn't really decide for sure until he got on the plane."

I nodded absently, my eyes inadvertently flicking to the front door. "How long now?"

Alice laughed. "About seven minutes."

I smiled, glad that Alice was there with me. I'd asked the rest of the family to leave the house, not wanting to overwhelm our visitor. It was a difficult decision to let Jasper go, knowing that his gift could potentially help the meeting go a little more smoothly. But Alice had reassured me – as she had been for hours, days really – and told me Jasper's talents wouldn't be needed.

I crossed to the bookshelf, my eyes drawn to the familiar photograph in an antique silver frame. Edward and Bella's wide smiles and glowing eyes brought back vivid memories of their wedding nearly a century ago. They had both become so important to me over the years, and the thought that Bella had put so much trust in me weighed heavily on my heart.

If I failed…

Well, I just couldn't fail. It was not an option.

From the Journal of Isabella Masen

May 22, 1932

Amelia Earhart made it. The first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. I was glued to the radio for two days, listening for updates on her progress. I couldn't remember exactly when it was that she disappeared, so I didn't breathe easily until the announcer said she'd landed.

She made it. No matter how many of these historical events I witness, each one still fills me with a sense of awe.

We're still in the midst of the Great Depression. I didn't remember much about this either. Bella, if you learn one thing from all of this, it's to study up on your history. Believe me it will come in handy.

Anyway, I knew enough about the stock market crash to warn Edward, as well as our close friends. We saved like crazy during the early Twenties, when everyone else was out party-hardying. And because I didn't know which banks would make it through the Depression unscathed, Edward wisely withdrew our money before the crash. Maggie and Samantha and Tom are also doing fine, thanks to what little advice I was able to give them. Sadly, Liza moved out of the state when Jared died of the influenza and I've lost contact with her. The last I heard she was in Tennessee. I hope she's all right.

Samantha and I volunteer at a local soup kitchen, and it breaks my heart to see all the families that are suffering so badly. We try to help where we can, but the problem is just so huge. It's overwhelming. From what I remember, there won't be an end to this until World War II. It seems a very long time off.

But the purpose of this journal isn't to provide a history lesson. You can Google all of that yourself. As I've told you before, my job is to tell you about my life…your life…to see that it is truly worth the journey you'll need to take.

I'm almost thirty-two years old now, and despite the sad state of the world around me, I find myself thanking God every day for sending me here. Amidst the suffering and pain I witness on the streets of Chicago, there is also so much joy.

The other day, Edward and I were sitting on the back porch watching E.J. (I refuse to call him Edward the Third, how ridiculous!) play catch with the twins. He's thirteen already. I can hardly believe how the time flies. He's tall and lanky, his hair grown darker than Edward's, but his eyes the same vivid green color. His nose and smile are mine, I'm told, although I think he's more beautiful than I would ever hope to be. He's brilliant as well, and says he wants to be a scientist, or maybe a doctor like Uncle Carlisle.

Yes, he calls him Uncle Carlisle.

Charlie and Helen will be ten next month. They are so different, I sometimes forget that they are twins. That is, until they decide they want to hide something from me and communicate in that weird, silent, twin way that drives me absolutely up a wall. Still, they are sweet children – mischievous but kind-hearted – and I treasure them greatly.

Watching them play, I felt the familiar tug at my heart as I remembered the daughter we'd lost. Little Renee, who should have filled the gap between the eldest and the twins, but who didn't live past a few short days. She came into our lives too early. In my time, they probably would have been able to save her, but here…now…she had no hope.

Life here can be harsh, Bella. I don't want to sugarcoat things. You need to have the full story.

Still, as I watched my son wind up for another throw, I couldn't keep a smile off my face. The breeze was warm, and I could hear the clank of pots and pans coming from inside the house. Edward's mother was baking, and shooed us out of the house so she wouldn't be disturbed. Absorbing a feeling of contentment, I leaned into Edward as we sat next to each other on the porch steps. Finally, he asked, "Do you ever miss it?"

"What?" I replied, distracted when Charlie missed the ball and had to chase after it.

"The future," he said quietly, reaching up to play with my hair. "The world you left."

From the way he asked the question, I knew he didn't want a flippant, reactionary answer. Instead, I thought for a moment.

"I miss my parents," I admitted. "It's hard to think that they don't know what happened to me, so I worry about them. That's hard sometimes."

Edward nodded, turning back to watch the children. "If you could go back…?"

"I don't think it's ever been up to me," I replied. I straightened and took Edward's hand, drawing his gaze back to mine. "But even if I could go back, I wouldn't, Edward. My life is here now, with you and the children. You're my family now."

I tell you this, Bella, because I want you to understand that your journey will not be an easy one. Your choice will have consequences, and they will be tough to deal with.

But I'm also telling you it's worth it. This life offers you more than you ever imagined. You just have to have the courage to take it.

~Carlisle~

Alice stood abruptly, flipping her magazine closed and setting it on the table. "He's here," she announced. "About thirty seconds."

I crossed to the windows, unable to keep from peering out at the front yard again. "There's his car." I straightened, running my hands over my hair nervously.

Alice chuckled. "You'd think you were going on a first date."

I smiled wryly. "I just don't want to scare the poor boy off."

Alice walked over to me, linking her arm through mine. "It's going to be fine, Carlisle. Trust me."

She squeezed my arm gently as we heard his steps coming closer – across the gravel in the drive and up onto the front porch – followed by a quiet, tentative knock on the door.

From the Journal of Isabella Masen

August 4, 1956

I met Alice today…again.

Carlisle had telephoned to tell me they'd stop by sometime after dusk, and I'd been incredibly nervous all day long. I threw open the door, and when I saw her smiling face my arms ached to just pull her into a big hug.

I'd missed her so much.

But I restrained myself, knowing that Alice had none of the history with me that I remembered. I stood back from the door, inviting them in politely as Edward watched from across the room.

To my surprise, it was Alice who hugged me.

"I've been waiting to meet you," she said as her marble arms held me gently. "Does this make the third time?"

I laughed. "For me, yes."

She pulled back with a shrug. "Well, so far, I've only seen this meeting….but Bella, I have a feeling we're going to become great friends!"

The irony of her words was not lost on me, as I knew she would be my dear friend through two lifetimes…mine, and yours.

~Carlisle~

I reached for the door knob, pulling it open and forcing a relaxed smile on my face.

"Hello, Masen," I said, standing back slightly. "It's good to see you again. Please come in."

The boy nervously ran a hand through his hair in a gesture so reminiscent of Edward I almost laughed. "Again?" he asked.

Slip of the tongue. I'd been watching him, of course, but only from afar. The Volturi had taken particular interest in my family as of late, so I couldn't risk making contact before the time was right.

At my hesitance, Masen grinned. "It's all right. Bella wrote in her journal about the way you…keep tabs on people."

I chuckled as he shook my hand and walked into the house. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe she referred to it as 'stalking tendencies.'"

Masen's smile widened. "You're not mistaken." His eyes scanned the room, settling on Alice. "You must be Alice," he said, extending his hand. She took it carefully in her own.

"You look so much like her," she said. "I mean, I've seen it…but to see you in person…" Her voice trailed off.

Masen nodded. "I know…except for my eyes."

"Yes…those are definitely Edward's," she murmured.

"It's strange for me too," he replied. "I've read about you in the journal, of course…over and over. To finally meet you…to finally see that what she wrote, it's all true." He turned to me, eyeing me carefully. "It is, isn't it? It's all true?"

I took a deep breath.

"Every word."

From the Journal of Isabella Masen

February 25, 1964

My great-great granddaughter was born today.

Isabella Marie, named after me.

When I learned the little girl would bear my name, I couldn't hold in the tears. Edward just held me gently, understanding why it meant so much to me.

Alice had seen it. She told me little Isabella would someday have a son…and that son would be the one to set everything in motion.

~Carlisle~

"So," Masen said, settling on the sofa and setting his messenger bag on the floor next to him, "what now? What's the plan?"

We both turned to Alice expectantly. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Well, I guess the plan is for you to meet Bella."

I frowned. "That's the plan? Doesn't really sound like much of a plan, Alice."

I heard Masen choke on a laugh.

Alice smirked. "I already told her I'd be coming by and bringing a friend I wanted her to meet. She thought I was trying to set her up."

I groaned as Alice wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeah…creepy," she said.

True to her word, Alice had been a good friend to Bella – both the Bella I knew, and the one who only came to Forks a few months ago. They'd grown close, but Bella didn't know our secret. Not yet, at least.

"Anyway," Alice continued. "I assured her that it was not a set-up in any way…and she said we could come by any time. Charlie's at work, so she has the house to herself."

Masen's face paled. "You mean, now?"

"No time like the present," she replied cheerfully, standing up and slipping on her suede jacket.

"But…but what will I say?" he stammered. "I thought I'd have a little while to prepare."

I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Masen," I said reassuringly. "You'll know what to say when the time comes. And we'll both be with you. You have the journal, right?"

He patted his bag. "Everything's in here."

"Good." When he swallowed nervously, I added, "You'll be fine."

He looked hesitantly from me to Alice before saying, "I hope you're right."

From the Journal of Isabella Swan

September 13, 1986

Today is my eighty-sixth birthday. I can't believe how time as flown.

Edward is still with me. He has a few problems with arthritis, but other than that he's doing well. After his bypass, I nagged him to exercise and improve his diet. He grumbles about missing steaks and ice cream, but it's all good-naturedly.

I know he values the little time we have left together as much as I do.

Our clocks are winding down, but I'm blessed that we've been given such a long and happy life together. We've lived through two world wars, countless skirmishes, financial collapse and rebuilding…

We've seen the miracle of flight, the first men land on the moon, cures for diseases, even the Beatles at Shea Stadium. (Yes, we were the oldest ones there, and no, I couldn't have cared less!)

After three children, nine grandchildren, twenty-three great-grandchildren, and fourteen great-great-grandchildren (with another on the way), I can leave this world knowing our family will go on…that the love born between Edward and me will continue for generations to come.

In five years, I will be born.

And I will be gone.

I can't explain how I know it. It's just a feeling I have – that time or fate won't let us co-exist in this world.

It's all right though. I'm ready. If it wasn't for Edward, I'd be gone already.

It sounds melodramatic, but it's true. He's what keeps me going, and I think it's the same for him. I wouldn't be surprised if we ended like some bad romance novel…hands intertwined sharing our last breath.

Or something equally as cliché.

I only hope I get to meet Masen. Alice told me his name, and said she's more certain than ever that he will be the one to help me…to help you. He won't be born for a few years yet, so I don't know if I'll make it.

Just in case, I've written him a letter and revised my will to ensure it's delivered to him on his twentieth birthday. That should give him plenty of time to figure out I'm not a crazy person. At least I hope so!

In the letter will be a key to a safe deposit box where I will keep this journal, and a few items I'd like for you to have.

I don't know if I'll get the chance to write any more to you, Bella. I pray that this is enough.

Edward says to tell you he'll be waiting…

~Carlisle~

On the ride to Bella's house, I noticed Masen periodically pulling something from his pocket and looking at it before shoving it back away quickly.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing…it's…it's stupid," he replied, blushing.

So much like Bella.

"I'm certain it's not stupid," I said, turning a corner onto Main Street.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the item out of his pocket, showing it to me. It was a photograph of him, with an older woman I assumed was his mother.

At my questioning look, he said hurriedly. "I just thought..if I made a mistake or something, the picture would start to fade…I'd start to disappear…"

Alice popped up over the seat back, propping her chin on her folded arms. "Like in Back to the Future?"

Masen flushed deeper. "I told you it was stupid. But if I fail, I won't ever be born, so…"

Alice patted his shoulder. "You won't fail."

He glanced back at her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "You'll be just fine. But if it makes you feel better, keep looking at the picture."

Masen smiled sheepishly and took a deep breath as we pulled into Bella's driveway.

October 29, 1988

Dear Masen,

I've written this letter dozens of times, the pages wadded and stuffed into my overflowing garbage can. I can't seem to get the words just right, but then again, I don't know if there's any way to say this that won't sound completely insane.

So, I'll get straight to the point. Before I married your great-great-great-grandfather, my name was Bella Swan. I lived in a little town in Washington State called Forks.

I was born on September 13, 1991.

Yes, you read that right.

I can't explain how it happened, but somehow it did. And you have to make sure it happens again.

In the envelope you'll find a key to a safe deposit box. In that box you'll find a journal…my story…your story.

It's up to you, Masen. You must convince me – her – that you are who you are…and that she must go through the ritual to send her back to 1918. My life is in your hands…and so is yours. Because – not to be all gloom and doom about it – but if you don't succeed, you'll never be.

Carlisle will help you – and Alice, of course. You'll read all about them in the journal. I've thought about leaving this all to them, but in reality, I think Bella will need to meet you to really believe this incredible story.

Alice says you'll have his eyes – Edward's. I think that will be the key. Somehow, she'll see the truth in your eyes…because I always have.

Just remember this date – March 12, 2010. That is the day I went back in time. That is your deadline.

Don't discard this as the ramblings of a crazy old woman until you read the journal. In it, you'll find the proof you need to convince yourself that I'm telling you the truth – and I pray it will be enough to convince Bella as well.

Read the journal, Masen. Then go find Carlisle. I've put a map in the front of the journal. He'll know you're coming.

It's strange that I'm writing to you when you haven't even been born yet. I just learned that your mother is pregnant, but I don't think I'll be around to see your face in person.

I almost asked Alice, but I didn't really want to know.

Life is strange, Masen…strange and magical and full of surprises. You're just now setting out on a journey that will show you how true that is.

Oh, and keep this letter and the journal to yourself. Especially the journal. Don't show it to anyone else. The secrets it holds must remain a secret or your life could be at risk. I'm not kidding about this. Don't tell anyone.

If anything, I hope this has intrigued you enough to want to find out more. I've done what I can…now it's up to you. My thoughts and prayers are with you, even if I can't be there in person.

Good luck. Sorry, son, but you're gonna need it.

Love,

Bella

~Carlisle~

Masen and I trailed a step behind Alice as we walked up to Bella's front door. Without hesitation, Alice knocked, and in a moment, I heard her steps cross the floor before she pulled the door open. As always, seeing Bella jarred me slightly. I often found myself wanting to joke with my old friend…but this wasn't her. At least not yet.

"Hi, Bella," Alice said perkily.

Bella smiled. "Hi, Alice…Dr. Cullen." She seemed a little surprised at my presence, but hid it well as her gaze drifted to our young guest. Her eyes widened, and I knew she saw the family resemblance.

"This is Masen," Alice said quietly.

"Hello," she replied before inviting us in. She tried to be subtle about it, but her eyes kept returning to Masen, the question clear on her face.

Who was he?

"Can I get you anything?" she asked politely as she led us into the living room. Alice and I declined, of course, but Masen cleared his throat nervously and asked for a glass of water.

Bella left the room and Alice sat down on the end of the sofa, directing Masen to the other end. I sat in Charlie's recliner, leaving the spot next to Masen for Bella.

She returned, handing Masen the glass before her eyes flickered nervously around the room. She sat down in the middle of the sofa, perched on the front edge of the cushion.

The silence thickened in the room, each of us waiting for the other to start. Bella finally took a deep breath.

"So, what's this all about?" she asked, turning to Masen. "Who are you, really?"

Masen smirked slightly. "You kind of cut to the chase, don't you?"

Bella blushed, but didn't break eye contact.

Masen reached into his bag, pulling out the journal and laying it on his lap. He ran his hand over the worn leather cover.

"My name is Masen Edward Armstrong," he said finally. "My mother was Isabella Marie Armstrong."

Bella gasped. "That's my name! Are…we related?"

Masen's lips quirked slightly. "Distantly." He took a deep breath and continued, "My grandmother was Anne Masen Roberts. Her father, my great-grandfather, was Anthony Masen. His father was Edward Masen, the Third."

"Let me guess," Bella interrupted with a wry grin. "His father was Edward Masen, the Second?"

Masen nodded, and I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Alice and I sat silently, our eyes focused on Bella.

"Edward was married to Isabella," he said slowly. "Isabella Marie Swan."

Bella's laughed. "That's so weird!" she exclaimed. "But it's not unusual for people to have the same name – especially in the same family. I wasn't aware I was named after anyone, but-"

"No," Masen interrupted quietly. "That's not what I'm saying."

Bella's brow creased in confusion. "I don't get it. What are you saying?" She turned to Alice. "What's this all about?"

"Just listen to him, Bella…please," Alice replied.

Masen reached into his bag, setting a pocket watch I recognized as Edward's on the coffee table, and handing her a locket. I knew it immediately, of course. She never took it off.

Bella flipped the locket open, running her fingers over the lock of faded hair inside.

"The hair was Edward's," Masen explained. "The locket…was yours."

Bella's nearly dropped the locket, her eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Masen offered the journal to her. "It's all in here."

Bella shot to her feet, backing away from him. "Who are you?" she said nervously. "What do you want from me?"

"It's all right, Bella," I said in a soothing voice.

"It's not all right," she snapped. "Why did you bring him here? He's obviously crazy…or some kind of con man or something." She squared her shoulders. "You picked the wrong mark, buddy. My dad's a cop, and you didn't do your research, because we don't have any money—"

"Bella!" Alice cut her off. "He's not a con man. And he's not crazy."

"Well maybe you're crazy!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing to mine. "Maybe you're all crazy!"

"Please," Masen said quietly. He stood, setting the journal on the sofa and approaching Bella like a frightened deer. "Bella…please. I'm not crazy. I came here because there's something you need to know. Something you need to do."

"But it doesn't make any sense…"

"I know it doesn't," he agreed, finally standing in front of her and looking deeply into her eyes. "It doesn't make any sense at all, but it's the truth. It's all in the journal. Just…just come look at the journal. That's all I'm asking. Read it, and decide for yourself."

Bella stared at him for a long moment. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. Regardless of the fact that she barely knew me, I definitely knew her. I could see her searching his face…a face so much like hers…his eyes…so much like Edward's. I knew she was confused…a little afraid, even.

But I also knew she was curious…and she wouldn't throw us out until that curiosity was satisfied.

Masen didn't know her as I did, though. I could see he was nervous, his green eyes pleading for her to give him a chance. His fingers twitched, and I wondered if he was wishing he could look at his picture to see if he'd disappeared.

"All right," Bella said finally, walking over to sit down on the sofa. She bit her lip, then reached out for the journal, laying it on her lap and opening it to the first page. She looked up in surprise.

"It's my handwriting," she said, mystified.

Masen just nodded and walked over to sit next to her. She gave him one more long look before beginning to read.

I bristled as I felt a tingle of awareness rush through me. Someone was nearby. I glanced at Alice, surprised that she hadn't seen him coming. She just shrugged, obviously feeling his presence, but without an explanation for why her foresight had apparently failed.

I stood up slowly. "I need to step outside for a moment," I said. "I'll be right back."

Bella was absorbed in the journal, twisting a lock of hair as she read. Masen acknowledged my comment with a brief nod, and Alice looked at me questioningly, obviously wondering if she should join me. I shook my head once, assuring her non-verbally that I would be fine.

I walked out of the house, scanning the edge of the forest, and finally spotting a shadowed figure standing next to a large pine tree. Approaching him, my step faltered. I didn't know him, but somehow I almost…recognized him. It was disconcerting to have a feeling of déjà vu…something I hadn't experienced in three centuries.

He stood straight and tall, his brown skin creased with age, weathered by sunshine. Obviously Native American, his eyes were dark and intense beneath a head of white, flowing hair. He wore a denim shirt, faded jeans and boots, a colorful blanket wrapped around his shoulders against the chill of the spring weather. He smiled as I drew nearer to him, and once again I felt a pang of recognition.

I also had the distinct impression that he wasn't entirely human. He wasn't a vampire…not a werewolf…but he was definitely something…more.

"Hello," I said tentatively, "I'm Carlisle Cullen."

The man's grin widened. "I know who you are, Cold One," he said.

I blinked at the name. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," he replied. "Be assured, I hold many secrets."

Confused, I took a step closer. "Have we met? You seem…familiar to me."

He laughed, the sound ringing through the trees. "In a fashion," he said. "Although I doubt you would remember."

"I remember everything," I said, a little put out.

He grinned. "Not everything, Cold One."

"Who are you?"

He looked toward the house, ignoring my question. "She has a difficult path ahead," he said. "But it is a path that must be taken."

A chill ran down my spine. "You know…about Bella?"

"I know many things."

I hesitated. "Do you know…will she make it?" I asked. "Will we be able to convince her to go?"

His clear eyes returned to mine, and I almost gasped at the ancient wisdom I perceived in their swirling depths. "You will," he said simply.

I released a heavy breath, relieved. "Why are you here? Are you going to help her?"

He smiled again, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "Not yet. I'm just here to watch for now."

"But you will…help her?"

"When the time is right."

I absorbed that for a moment. "Can I ask you one more question?" He inclined his head, so I continued. "What happens…afterward? To those of us left behind. Will she just…vanish? What about her family? They will search for her."

"That is more than one question, Cold One," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily. At my frustrated look, he added, "but I will answer."

He pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. "Time is like a jealous woman," he said. "She will not share her lover with another."

I rubbed a hand over my face, irritated by his cryptic answer. "Are you saying that when she leaves, she will cease to exist in this time?"

"Not…cease," he replied.

"No," I said, latching on to a theory, "because if she is there, she can't be here…she can never be here. She could have never been here in the first place."

He nodded slightly.

"So, it will be like she was never born?" I asked. "We'll all just…forget she ever existed?"

He smiled again. "Not all of us. Creatures like you and me, Cold One, live outside of time's boundaries."

"So I'll remember her," I said, "and Alice. But her parents…her friends…none of them will remember her at all?"

"It's the way it must be," he replied. "She has made her choice. She cannot live two lives."

"You mean she will make the choice…she hasn't done it yet," I said, casting a nervous glance toward the house.

"Hasn't she?" he asked with a grin. "If not, how did you meet her so long ago?"

I laughed, remembering many similar conversations I'd had with Bella over the years. "All right, I'll give you that one. But what about the records? Her birth certificate…school records?"

"They will have never existed."

"What about the journal?"

His eyes focused on mine. "That will be your responsibility. The trinkets are family heirlooms, so they should stay with the boy, but the journal must be destroyed."

He saw my hesitation before I even felt it. The journal was all I had left of Bella – I had hoped to have her words nearby…written on paper with her own hand, rather than just the memory of a fading page.

"It cannot remain," he said firmly, his eyes harsh and almost frightening in their intensity.

I nodded in understanding. "I'll take care of it."

Just like that, his eyes softened. "I know you will, Cold One. After all, you already have." He winked before turning and walking away through the forest.

I watched him go, then walked slowly back to the house, listening to the conversation inside with a smile on my face.

"This is absolutely insane," Bella said. "I can't believe you expect me to believe I live in a town full of vampires and werewolves…and in a week I'm supposed to go back in time."

"You saw the pictures, Bella," Alice pointed out.

"Yeah. I saw the pictures," Bella huffed. "So that's Edward, huh?"

Masen replied. "That's him."

"Huh," Bella said. "You do have his eyes – although it's a black and white picture so I can't be sure."

"They're green," he said.

"He's…cute, I suppose," she said grumpily. "Kind of a pretty boy."

Alice laughed. "Oh, Bella. You're half in love with him already."

"I am not."

"Read the journal," she countered. "You will be."

I grinned as I opened the door and walked into the house, confident for the first time that everything would happen as it was supposed to.

After all, that's what destiny is all about.

Late that night, long after Carlisle, Alice, and Masen had left, Bella lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep eluded her, which wasn't surprising given the day's revelations.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, she flipped on the bedside light and picked up the journal from the nightstand. Sitting up against the headboard, she opened the back cover, retrieving a yellowed envelope before setting the journal aside.

Opening the flap, she carefully extracted the single piece of stationery from inside. The fold was heavily creased and cracked on the edges, a testimony to the fact that the letter had been read and re-read numerous times.

Bella didn't blame her alter-ego for that. She herself had read it a half-dozen times already.

Carefully unfolding the paper, she read it yet again.

July 17, 1919

My Dearest Bella,

As I write this, you are lying in our bed asleep. You are so tired lately, which is to be expected given your condition, I suppose. In less than a month, you will give birth to our first child – a thought that both excites and terrifies me. I dread the idea of you going through such pain, but the idea that a child…our child…will be here soon…

I am awed, Bella. I cannot think of a better word to describe my feelings.

In a few days we will celebrate our first wedding anniversary. It is difficult to believe that it has only been a year since we were married…a few months longer since that day we first met. I don't believe I ever told you how incredibly beautiful you were that day…or how I felt that first time you touched me. I didn't completely understand it at the time, but it was as if a missing piece of a puzzle had fallen into place…like finally, I was whole.

Of course, it took a while for me to accept that we were destined to be together. I know you thought me stubborn and opinionated, but Bella, I was so confused. I thought I knew much of the world, but you challenged me so openly it both infuriated and intrigued me.

I'd never been in love before, but from that first moment, I was yours.

And now, here we are. There are those who say we are too young to know what life is all about, but Bella, you have shown me. You've shown me love…and compassion. You've shown me sacrifice…and joy. You've shown me there is magic in the world…and that love like ours cannot be bound by things like time and fate.

I see you writing in your journal, so concerned that you say the right thing. You believe it's your responsibility to ensure that events transpire as they should. And you worry that they won't. You try to hide it from me, but I know it is your greatest fear.

I believe, my love, that there is nothing to fear.

I believe that regardless of what happens in the future, our souls are intertwined. I believe that whether you go back in time, or I die of the influenza, or we both travel to Ancient Egypt, we will be together.

It is the way it's meant to be.

We are meant to be.

Of course, I know you will continue to write in your journal…to make your plans. It is your way and I would never take that away from you.

But, Bella, be assured, I will always find you.

In this world or in any other, I will find you.

And I will always…always…love you.

You are mine, Bella, and I am yours…forever.

Edward

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Bella carefully folded the paper and slid it into the worn envelope, tucking it back into its spot in the back of the journal.

She turned off the light and slid under the covers…

…and dreamed of what was yet to be.

A/N: UPDATED 7/23/12 - PLEASE SEE MY PROFILE for important information about my stories. Thank you! :-)