A/N Second epilogue - Future Take of Stigmata Tomato. Bella and Edward deal with an unplanned pregnancy while trying to resolve their respective personality disorders. Falling in love is easy; staying together is work.

Beta'd by Mac and pre-read by Meranaamjoker

Facebook Status: American cheese can suck my dick

10 Weeks

"But I want it," I moaned.

"Please, Bella?" Sex-hair begged, swatting me away.

"I need it! Give it to me."

A casual observer might think I was begging for sex; I wasn't. I wanted Cheez Whiz. Yes, that terrible orange crap in the jar or spray can. I didn't care that it was four in the morning. The bastard had knocked me up with his demon seed... the least he could do was satisfy my unorthodox cravings.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" I kicked him in the thigh somewhat playfully, rolling onto my back. The sheets were wet with sweat - both of ours - and I couldn't silence the paranoid thoughts in my head. They chirped like plaintive crickets. "We can't keep swearing like college students and shit. What kind of parents would we be?"

"The college student kind." He sighed, hefting his arm over my belly and lowering his cheek to my puffy abdomen. His skin felt warm against mine, his jaw rough with stubble. I stared at the top of his head, running my fingers through his hair. God he looked good - all shaggy and sexy.

"You should get a fucking haircut," I spat, and he frowned. I had no idea why I just said that. I mean, not even two seconds ago I'd been lusting after the crazy mop on his head. "I didn't mean that."

"Okay," he replied, eyeing me like I was a lunatic - a fair assessment. He rolled over to face me, traversing the landscape of our small bed as if landmines hid under the blankets.

In truth, the only thing explosive was me - my temper and maybe my colon. What? Don't judge. Pregnancy is fucking disgusting.

"I love you, Edward. I do," I managed between sobs. "I just really need some fucking Cheez Whiz, or I might kill someone. Maybe you. I don't want that on my conscience."

He grumbled and retrieved a pair of hygienically ambiguous jeans off the floor. I'd had issues with doing laundry lately. Actually, I had issues with getting off my fat ass and doing just about anything besides going to class, eating, and being sick to my stomach. I guess I wasn't one of those women who flourished during pregnancy. The whole experience was pretty disgusting if you asked me... which no one did.

I had a tendency to overshare.


When Edward returned from the store I burst into tears.

"Holy fuck, Bella! You gotta stop it with this shit."

"Watch your fucking mouth!" I sobbed.

"What's wrong?" He opened the jar of Cheez Whiz and offered me a spoon.

"It's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen... I don't know what I was thinking."

He frowned and sniffed the jar - just watching him do it made my stomach lurch into my throat.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I groaned, bitter saliva flooding my mouth.

"So I guess that means sex is out of the question?"


Facebook Status: 13 Weeks and one day

I couldn't breathe.

My knees buckled, and I dropped to the cold bathroom floor, crying out for help.

Red, red, red streaks on my white cotton underwear.


Facebook Status: We're okay

13 Weeks and two days

Edward's freckles were more blatant than usual against the pale canvas of his face. I took his hand, both of us shaking.

"It's because I didn't want her." My voice was cold. I sounded like Renee.

"Don't talk like that," Edward snapped. "She's fine. We're fine."

He'd been saying that all morning. Leonard Cohen sang "Hallelujah" in my mind, his prayer indeed cold and broken.

She's fine. We're fine. We've had enough bad shit happen; God wouldn't do this to us.

Edward believed in God. I didn't, but that didn't stop me from praying.

"We can try again," I whispered. "If we lose her... we can try-"

"Stop," he hissed, burying his face into my shoulder. My shirt dampened, and he whispered that strange prayer: "God help us, she's fine. We're fine."

I mussed up his hair. "It's okay, baby. No matter what."

"She's fine," he repeated, a robot with a single-minded directive.

Maybe she is fine. My abdomen doesn't really hurt. Where the fuck is the doctor?


Facebook Status: We're okay

13 Weeks and three days

She was fine.

The doctor didn't know what caused the bleeding, but my baby was fine. I couldn't shake that terrible thought, though - somehow it was me me me. My body failed me. Biology was protecting the little baby inside me from growing up with a freak for a parent. I mean, how could I be a mother when my own mother couldn't love me?

As if sensing my terrible logic, Edward pulled me into the cradle of his arms, cuddling me as if I was the most precious thing in the universe. And to him, I believe I was.

"You know I love you, baby. Tell me you know? Because I love you so fucking much."

I sighed, lowering the volume on the TV with the remote. "I love you, too."

"But do you know how much you're loved?" His voice cracked.

"You're fucking nuts... but yeah. I can tell."

I needed to turn off my mind. It wouldn't stop spinning in circles of blame and doubt and fear. Edward loved me. He chose to love me every day we stayed together, but for the life of me, I didn't really understand why.

"The baby's gonna love you so much, too. You're gonna be the best mother ever."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but the fear took over before I could respond, wrapping its shadow around my throat. I couldn't breathe under the weight.

"What if she doesn't make..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"She's fine. We're all fine."

"It was too late to be an implantation bleed." I bit my finger until Edward pried it out of my mouth.

"You need to stop obsessing about it." His voice was tired, lazy, and he turned up the volume on the television.

"I'm so worried about worrying too much," I admitted. "I wish I could calm down."

"Zombie movies are sure to help."

"Don't judge. Zombie movies are like my comfort food. Speaking of which, I wish I could eat." All I wanted was watermelon. I liked to cut the fruit in half and stick my face in it, having no patience to properly slice it.

"Can I watch you go down on a watermelon again?" Edward asked, rolling over onto his side, eyes darkening.

I rubbed my swollen belly and countered, "I'd rather watch you go down on a watermelon."


Facebook Status: Here's Mr. Winky

19 Weeks

Fingers pressed into my abdomen, my bladder protesting. "I'm going to piss all over this gurney. That'll be embarrassing for the both of us."

The technician smiled. "Just a few more measurements of the fetus, and you can pee out about a cup of urine. I know this is uncomfortable."

"What do you mean, a cup? Once the levy breaks, there's no holding back the flood!"

"Mrs. Cullen-"

"Swan," I corrected.

"Mrs. Swan, we need a full bladder to see everything."

"That makes no fucking sense. What does my bladder have to do with my uterus." I sat up and looked at the screen, barely making out the grainy outline of my uterus. "Holy fuck!"

Edward's face reddened. "Bella... calm down."

"Shut the fuck up," I said, my hand reaching for the screen as if I could touch our baby through the computer. "We're having a boy," I whispered, falling back on the exam table, shaking. "Holy fuck, there really is a little sex-hair inside me... and not the usual kind of little sex-hair. I mean, not your dick. But there totally is a dick inside me right now. It belongs to our son. But not in a gross way."

"Please stop rambling," Edward begged.

"How did you know?" the technician asked, her brow folding in confusion. "I'm not permitted to reveal the sex... how could you possibly know from the ultrasound image?"

"You told me." I laughed.

"No, I didn't."

I pointed to the corner of the screen which was clearly labeled XY. "Y chromosome equals boy."

The technician grinned. "Someone was paying attention in biology class."

"Hardly!" I laughed. "I was too busy lusting after my lab partner."

"How did that work out for you?" She took the sheet covering my legs and wiped the ultrasound goopy-gel off my belly.

"The bastard knocked me up with his son." Stupid tears spilled down my cheeks. Edward grabbed my hand and started babbling. I couldn't really decipher what he said. "Use your words, sweetie." I giggled. I couldn't stop. Honestly, it felt like I was high on nitrous.

Giddy. This is what happiness feels like.

"I love you so fucking much." His eyes shone. Shit, maybe he'd start crying, and if he cried, I'd never stop. "I swear, pretty girl, it's like my chest hurts. I can't even say... I fucking love you."

"Maybe you have indigestion," I joked. "God knows I do. Could be sympathy gas or something."

"It's love," he insisted.

"Have you tried farting?"

"Okay." The technician helped me into a seated position and swivelled her chair away from the computer. "You two are officially the strangest couple I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. That being said, would you like a picture of your son?"

I nodded, swinging my legs off the exam table.

"I still need to record a few measurements, but..."

The image was black and white and completely pixelated. Clear as day, though, an arrow pointed to my unborn son's tiny penis. The technician typed the words "Mr. Winky" beside the arrow.

"This is totally going into the photo album," I squealed.


Facebook Status: Too posh to push

28 Weeks

My doctor had a wicked sense of humour. While some might find her abrasive, for some reason, I found her strange bedside manner oddly comforting.

"You have really narrow hips," Dr. Abramovitch remarked.

"Awesome. Uh, thanks." I mean, that was like a compliment, right?

My doctor frowned. "Hope you don't mind being cut. I'm pretty sure your baby's head is going to get stuck."

"Yes! I mean, yes. To the being cut part. I don't want to push this baby out of my vagina. I've heard really bad things about tearing and stuff. Please, please, please cut me?"

"Uh... yeah. That's the first time anyone's ever begged me for a c-section." She scribbled something on my chart and then regarded me with wary eyes. "I can't just cut you open, Bella. Not without reason."

"My baby, my choice," I argued.

"Explain your reasoning?"

"I'd rather have stitches in my abdomen than my vagina."

She frowned. "Your recovery time will be impacted. It's an open surgery, Bella. This isn't a decision to be made lightly."

"I'm putting my foot down on the matter, doc. I refuse to push this baby out. My body wasn't designed for childbirth."

"That's nonsense."

"I'm not supposed to be a mother. This is just further evidence - my narrow hips or whatever." I chewed on my finger. "I'm prepared to be very annoying until you grant me my elective surgery."

"Yes, Bella." She sighed. "I have no doubt about that."


Facebook Status: Skin stretches... bones break

32 Weeks

"It's natural, sweetie. You'll be fine." Edward rubbed my sore back, his fingers careful yet thorough.

"This is nice." I sighed, arching into his touch. My lower back ached with a steady, pulsing burn, and his fingers somehow numbed the fire. "But you're not gonna talk me out of this."

"Your doctor hasn't agreed to perform the c-section. You really should try to give birth naturally." His fingers became wicked, hooking under the back of my stretch pants.

"I miss fucking you," I said, wiggling. "I do, but the thought of your dick in me right now makes me physically ill."

"That's not the kind of thing a guy likes to hear," he replied, his hand now playful inside my panties. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the tingling sensations his touch incited between my legs, but I couldn't relax enough to enjoy it.

"How would you like it if you had to push a baby through your dick?"

He laughed, the bastard. "That's not possible."

"Yeah, well... it doesn't seem possible to push a baby out of my pussy, either."

"But it's natural, baby. Women have been doing it since the dawn of the human race."

"I don't care. I've got exactly as much experience pushing a baby out of my genitals as you do. Don't give me your bullshit about it being different."

He hooked his fingers under the elastic of my pants and pulled them down over my hips.


34 Weeks

I lay in the bathtub, feeling my son move inside my tummy. His foot, or maybe his knee, pushed out, stretching my skin. Somehow I felt like he reached for me

A sigh escaped me, and I pressed my hand against the little bump.

"I love you, too, little man. Mommy loves you."


36 Weeks

"What's wrong?" Edward asked, shrugging his laptop bag off his shoulder.

"You're gonna think it's stupid." I wiped my face, feeling it heat up. I wasn't embarrassed, exactly... just really frustrated.

"Do you feel sick, pretty girl?" He sat beside me on the couch, his eyes widening when he noticed the image on my iPad. "Wait, is that porn?"

"Yeah." I sniffled. "And the porn guys can't get me off. They're not sexy like you." I minimized the Safari page and squirmed a little. My pussy felt so wet and swollen and desperate, like it was ready to snap from hunger. Seriously. It was so ravenous it would probably snap at Edward's finger if he tried to touch it.

A tight smile crawled across his face, his eyes downcast. "I'm so sorry, baby. I hate leaving you, uh, hanging here. It's just... it makes me uncomfortable."

"Some nymphomaniac you are." I ignored him then, turning over the iPad and taking matters into my own hands. There was no dignity in masturbating in nearly the ninth month of pregnancy, but a rabid pussy could not be ignored.

"What're you doing?" he asked, his voice husky with desire... or maybe disgust.

"You can watch if you want, but with or without you, I'm giving myself an orgasm." I shoved my hand under the waistband of my yoga pants and grunted as girlishly as I could manage. My fingers slid between my labia as if they were coated in bacon grease.

"Christ." He palmed his cock over his jeans, and it occurred to me that I looked ridiculous, all swollen like a beach ball while flicking my bean. "Are you wet?"

"Wet would be the understatement of the century." The fapping was so loud I was pretty sure the upstairs neighbours could hear me. I cried out, sliding four of my fingers in and out of myself, over and over again.

But it wasn't enough. A crazy pressure built inside of me, and I was going to scream if it didn't release.

Fuck if I cared what I looked like. I'd never been this horny in my entire life. Seriously, I was a second away from dragging my pussy across the bedroom floor just for a little friction.

"I want you so much. Fuck!" Edward lowered the zipper of his fly, and wrapped his fist around his dick. "I just... jeez, it's so fucked-up to do it when I can feel our son moving between us."

"It's cool, babe. He likes it when I have an orgasm. He kicks and stuff." I lifted my shirt over my head with one hand, keeping my other hand inside my greedy cunt.

"That's not helping with the weird."

"Well... you can fuck me from behind." I crawled onto the bed, wiggling my ass in the air. "That way you won't feel anything moving inside me."

"I hope to feel at least one thing moving inside you." He pushed his dick inside me with a swift stroke, and I practically screamed as the pressure in my groin intensified. I gasped, unable to catch my breath.

"Shit, baby. Your pussy is squeezing me. It's never felt like this-"

My abdomen clenched, fire shooting up my spine.

"Get your dick out of me!" I screamed, folding over my massive belly.

Like a cork to a bottle of champagne, he unstopped the seal, and my water exploded all over the couch.


Edward looked like a neurotic zombie - all pale and twitchy and desperate. I smiled as calmly as I could manage from my place on the operating table and said, "Dude, stop. Stop and look at me."

He nodded, breathing, not breathing, and oh god, I thought he was gonna pass out.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I can't feel half my body which is freaking me out a bit, but the morphine is kinda nice."

He laughed, nervous. "Look at you hogging the good stuff. I could use something to take the edge off, too. No one ever thinks about the poor father."

"Yeah, this must be really hard for you. I mean, you have to stand there and do nothing. I'm being cut open and stuff. Speaking of which..." I tried to lift my head but couldn't. All I could see was the blue curtain that separated me from whatever the surgical team was doing below my chest. "Are you gonna tell me when you make a cut?" I wanted to chew on my fingers, but the nurses had shackled my hands on either side of me like Jesus on the cross. Sort of. Wait, was that a blasphemous thought?

"We made the first cut ten minutes ago," Dr. Abramovitch said. "You might feel a bit of tugging now."

I felt nothing but heard a shrill scream.

"Alright, who brought a baby in here?" I joked.

"It's a boy... and what a boy! He's huge!"

It happened so quickly: one moment I hadn't even realized the doctor had started the surgery, the next, a huge, squirming baby appeared.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." I choked. I'd been so frightened of this moment - meeting my son.

The pediatrician cut the cord - I guess Edward didn't look up to the task - and examined him, all the while my boy screamed at the indignity.


There's this moment of pure terror as a new parent. You stare at the little human that somehow you created, wondering how the fuck you'll ever protect him from being as fucked up as you.

I hadn't expected it, this fear. Shit, I spent my pregnancy worried about all the wrong things - the pain, failure, not bonding with my child... I hadn't thought about the next eighteen years.

Everything shifted in my life the first moment I looked at Eliot. I couldn't explain it. I felt like a blind woman seeing for the first time.

No, that's a crap simile.

More like my universe rearranged itself, and Eliot became the centre of it.

"I don't want him to turn out like me," I whispered to Edward.

"You don't want him to be strong and funny and smart and beautiful?" He kissed the top of my head and placed his hand on the back our sleeping son.

"You're so silly." I grinned. "I want him to be like you, though. I do."

"The way you regard me is absurd," he whispered.

"You're kind, responsible, caring, silly, and really good at cunnilingus."

"You forgot smart!" He pretended to be offended.

"Nah, we both know I'm the brains of this operation."

Eliot took this moment to wake up and scream.

"Shit!" Edward swore. "What do we do?"

"Help me take my shirt off." I laughed.

"Now's not the time!"

"Not for you, silly. Just trust me."

I have no clue how I knew what to do to calm Eliot, but I just sort of knew. Not that motherhood was easy, just some things were intrinsic. I heard it in his cry - the need he had to be close to my breast even though he wasn't latching properly yet.

Edward laid him over my stomach, Eliot's tiny fists clenching and unclenching as I cradled him against me, my palm fanning out over the back of his precious head. "Mommy loves you, little man," I whispered. "More than anything. No one will ever fuck with your life. You're my priority... no matter what."

Sometimes we learn from tragedy, I suppose. Maybe I needed to thank my mother for being a role model - she represented everything I'd sooner kill myself than be.

But looking at Eliot I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, I knew there was no way I'd ever allow another person to hurt him.

Maybe I'd never be able to get over what happened to me, but Eliot would be fine. And I'd be fine for him.

"I love you, Bella. Thank you." Edward wiped an errant tear off his cheek. "He's perfect... everything I never knew I wanted."

Life is unexpected. Lennon said it's what happens when you're making other plans.

Eliot was perfect and unexpected and loved. He was my life now.

There would likely come a day when I'd lose myself to despair again, but for now, I simply enjoyed this moment - our little corner of happily-ever-after.

And should the darkness ever descend again, I could fight it. Eliot was my own personal sun.

A/N - this is the final epi. No more. Thanks so much for reading! I have one WIP still running called Face Blind. It's kind of a drabble. Shadow has one chapter left. Buzz my phone, please? One last time.