Author's Note: SO. Finally finally finally an update, right? I kept redoing this one over and over again, to get Edward and Bella right. And I need a distraction, so :p Um yeah. Enjoy. Comment. And stay tuned.

I sat on the bench by the window, my head rested on the sill, looking at the ceiling. I couldn't hear a single noise, a rarity in this house. I knew Rosalie, Emmett and Jasper were out hunting. Alice had wanted to join them, but I could tell she had decided to stay-for Edward's sake. I wasn't the only one who had confidence in Jacob; she seemed to see that he was good for Renesmée. Others had more trouble than others, but it ultimately fell to Edward. It was a little endearing, but now I had no idea what to do. He sat at his piano bench, completely motionless, his eyes in another world. I thumped my head back against the white window frame.

I heard him shift in his chair, and then he was plunking away at keys on the piano. I smiled a little. This is what he did when he was deep in thought. You could always decipher his feelings from what he played. I saw it coming completely, a sweet, slow melody. A lullaby of sorts, but unlike mine in every way. Renesmée's song lingered in the air. I could hear Alice in the unused kitchen sighing, almost in relief. Whatever she had seen.... it was good. I looked at my husband again, his hands flowing over the keys thoughtlessly, yet with a deliberate determination. I frowned as his long fingers began to form new, harsher notes. Making my daughter's song something it wasn't supposed to be, rough, uneven and unnerving. The melody turned into something new, an improvisation, a feeling of desperation, regret and worst of all: fear. I sighed.

Edward's hands abruptly stopped, and he looked over at me. Seeing my face, he mumbled, "Sorry," and then turned back to the keys. This time though, it was something familiar and comforting. My lullaby spread out through the entire room, calming me. I smiled slightly, and stood up fluidly, walking up behind him. Placing my head on his shoulder, I felt right at home at last. I pulled my arms around him, and leaned over to match my fingers over his. He allowed my fingers to follow his in the familiar pattern that he knew so well. I pulled my hands away when he was done, and he spun around in his seat so he was facing me.

"I love her too you know," I reminded him. He exhaled.

"I know. I never had any doubt." He told me. I nodded.

I pulled his head to my chest; he was at the perfect height when he was sitting down. He kissed my collarbone softly, and then rested his head against me.

"Edward, he took care of me. Do you honestly think he can't take care of Renesmée?" I asked him.

"She doesn't need anyone to take care of her," he argued.

"She doesn't need to know that." I informed him, "I don't need someone to take care of me either." I added, looking down at his face.

"I'd argue that point," he said, standing up, towering over me again. I looked up at his teasing eyes, daring him to prove me wrong. He leaned down very slowly, holding my gaze as long as possible. He kissed me softly, and then pulled back, "who would be able to do that?" He asked me. I chuckled, and touched my lips to his again, pulling my arms around his neck, stretching up on my toes. He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, smiling against his lips. He carried me to the couch and set me down; we lay on our sides, facing each other.

"She'll be fine," I promised him, pushing his bronze hair away from his face.

"I know," he told me honestly. And I narrowed my eyes at him. "It isn't her I don't trust," he explained. I smiled.

"What are you thinking?" He asked me the age old question. I giggled.

"Mostly about how cute you are when you worry," I told him, "and how this reminds me of the old days."

"Hmm, I guess you're right," he smiled at me. "I'll get used to this eventually Love. I promise." He said, suddenly serious.

"Well, I can't blame you. Every Dad freaks out on his daughter's first date... and they get over a decade to build up to it. You've had to adapt in a fraction of the time most fathers get." I told him. He rolled his eyes. "No Edward, I'm serious." I told him, holding his eyes with mine.

"I know." He said quietly, his arms relaxing against my sides, "I think I see too much of you in her," he told me.

I smiled slightly. "I think.... you're afraid he's going to hurt her," I told him, "like you were afraid he would hurt me."

"He did hurt you," he told me, holding my hand to his mouth to kiss my palm.

"I guess. But not as much as it would have hurt if... well you know," I admitted. Edward didn't respond.

"Aren't you afraid of that?" He asked me after a long silence.

I thought about it. "No," I told him honestly. Seeing the shock and the blatant curiosity colour his eyes, I continued, "I'm more afraid she'll hurt him... and herself by extension." Edward sucked in a breath.

"How do you mean?"

"She is your daughter, Edward. Self-sacrifice for the good of others is in her blood. However, she seems to have carried over one of my traits as well- her stubbornness." I said, looking down to where our hands were intertwined, his grasp was slowly slipping from mine.

"Bella," he sighed. I looked up at him, a sure look in my eyes. He hugged me close now, unable to come up with words. I lay my cheek on his chest, fitting perfectly there, in both my lives. "You're right," he sighed, "of course you're right."

"I am always right," I teased.

"You think I might have learned that after all this time..." he winked at me.

"Hmm. But you haven't..." I told him.

"What time is it?" He asked suddenly. I glanced at the small clock on the dvd player, and laughed.

"It's nine thirty Edward. Come on. Let her have a little fun," I pleaded.

"Okay. Alright. Fine," he said.

We lay in silence for a while, staring into space. I remembered the first date I'd had with Edward, in detail. Both the infamous and official baseball date, at that glorious day in the meadow. I touched his face softly, relaying my thoughts to him with some difficulty. It had gotten easier to stretch out over the last few years. He smiled at me widely, remembering. I could imagine him concentrating on the meadow.

"She'll be okay," I whispered, pushing his floppy bronze hair out of his eyes.

"I know," he said back, quietly. "But I'm calling her if she's not back in an hour," he told me. I rolled my eyes and sighed as I got up, and gestured to the piano once more, the only way to calm him.