Bella's POV

Edward and I once again find ourselves running through the rain to get to the car, hopping over puddles in the driveway to quickly escape the downpour surrounding us. As I settle into the leather seat I stare ahead of me, at the front of the Cullen's home. I'm doing my best to control my breathing that is coming in quick, yet heavy pants. Edward starts the car up and pushes a couple of buttons on the dash; cool air blasts me in the face and I slam myself to the back of the seat.

"Sorry," Edward mumbles. I shrug my shoulders in response, still refusing to look at him.

I feel his eyes on me and I wonder what he is thinking, I wonder if he heard any of the exchange between his mother and me. I don't know what to do with his eyes on me and the car not moving; my breathing resumes its frantic pace and I tightly grip the seat as if it will keep the anxiety attack at bay.

"Bella?" His soft voice whispers my name but I don't answer, afraid that my emotions will betray me.

I look down at my lap and suddenly feel his warm hand on my shoulder; it feels soothing, comfortable, like he has done it many times.

"Are you okay?"

Slowly, I turn to him, still looking down at my lap, hands still gripping the seat until I remember to let go. I rub my hand over my face, attempting to distract myself from the emotions that have built up. Scared, confused, lonely, desperate, sad, pain, love, loss, like. No no. Please not like. I don't want to like him. He saved me life, I must let him go before I kill him.

"Could you please take me home, Edward?" I ask. He says nothing for several moments and I wonder if I said it out loud or in my head. I almost hope I said it in my head, because I no longer recognize the sound of my own voice. I turn back to the front windshield, again staring at Edward's parent's home.

He either heard me, or takes the hint because he quickly shifts the car into gear and turns the car toward the lane and away from the house, toward my home. The drive doesn't take long, and Edward soon pulls up in my driveway. He shifts the car into gear and I think about what I should say to him. I know that I should say something; he came all this way to tell me what happened after I avoided him for weeks, and when I freaked out after hearing it all, he distracted me by taking me to see his folks. He really is a nice guy, and attractive as hell. It makes me wonder why someone like him would take the time and effort, to help me through all of this.

I look up at my house and sigh; it's dark and I forgot to leave the porch light on. I'm notorious for doing that kind of thing, it was one of the things that always drove Jake crazy. A pang of guilt and sorrow slams me in the chest and I feel a strong need for my bed.

"Thank you for coming all this way to talk to me, Edward, and filling me in on what happened that day. I'm truly sorry that I thrust all of this at you, but I hope you believe me when I say that I am incredibly thankful that you were there. I need you to know that I wasn't trying to kill myself. I could never do that." I don't think. I stop my rambling and pinch the bridge of my nose, a nervous habit. Before I say any other random mortifying thoughts, I quickly grab the handle of the door, push it open, and step out of Edward's car. Have I been rude to him? I lean down and stick my head back in the car. "I don't mean to sound bitchy or come off as ungrateful, but if I did, I apologize."

I glance back at my dark home. "Would you like to come in for tea or something? Or not...you may need to get back, it's getting late," I say as I feel the embarrassment announce itself in my cheeks. "Nevermind, have a good night, Edward."

I quickly shut the car door and make my way up the walkway, pulling my keys from my pocket as I come to the front door. Behind me, I hear the purr of the engine cut off and turn around to see Edward walking up the foot path.

"Actually, a cup of tea would be perfect, if the offer still stands?" He offers me a small, unassuming smile. I nod and turn back to the door and unlock it; Edward follows me in.

Once inside, I begin to question why I invited him in. I fully intended on going straight to bed, but I let my mouth get away from me. At the same time, I know that if I go up to that bed and lay in it right now, sleep won't come. In fact, I don't think sleep will be coming to me for quite a while. No, it will be only nightmares that visit me for some time.

Edward clears his throat behind me and I wonder how long I've been standing in the dark house and deliberating inside of my head.

"Sorry," I whisper and quickly flick on the hall light. I remove my coat and hat before pulling the grate away from the fireplace in the living room. I reach for the wicker basket that holds kindling and retrieve the long match sticks from the table beside the mantle.

"I could do that for you, if you like," Edward offers.

I look up at him and give him a small smile in thanks. Edward beams back at me like I've just awarded him a prize and I feel a bit awkward and undeserving. Still, that smile does something to me, and as much as I don't want to admit to it, my like for him grows a small fraction. Damn it. I quickly hand him the match sticks and let him take over the fire-building chore and I move off into the kitchen but stop as I come to the doorway. I chance a glance back at him and already see him working to build the fire. My chest clenches at the site, the hole that opened up a year ago expands, yet contracts at the same time. It's both agonizing and a bit comforting to see a man sitting at the hearth again - building a fire for me. I turn back around and escape to the kitchen to make our tea as Edward completes the task I relinquished. I turn the gas burner to high on the stove and fetch my metal tea pot to fill with water, then put it on the stove.

"What kind of tea do you drink?" I holler from the kitchen.

"I don't care as long as it has caffeine," he replies.

I reach in my island drawer and pull out my stash of tea. I have quite a variety, because for some reason, whenever I am in that isle at the grocery store, I feel the need to buy more. I also keep a small jar of loose tea that I order from an online company. It's expensive, but incredibly good; I decide tonight is as good a night as any to indulge. After several minutes of fishing through my utensil drawer, I find my diffuser and fill it with the raspberry-vanilla tea. The teapot whistles it's readiness about a minute later and I remove it from the heat, turn the burner off, then pour a little bit of the water out in the sink.

When the tea is ready I pull two large, brown mugs from the cabinet and fill each of them to the brim. I leave and inch or so of room - in case I need to add...something to it. As I reach the living room I notice that Edward has not turned any other lights on. There is only the low light from the hallway and the glow of the growing fire he built. Edward's back is to me as he kneels at the fireplace, stocking the fire and rearranging the logs. I watch him for a minute, staying as quiet as possible as I stifle a giggle as I notice his crazy hair once again. Most of it is slightly matted to his head - from the torrential downpour that we ran through several times tonight - except for one rebellious strand. It sticks straight out from the side of head, just above his ear; I feel an irrational need to slick it down with the palm of my hand and my own saliva - something my mother used to do to Emmett when a comb and water or gel were not available. I want to smooth it down for him, or run my fingers through the rest of it to make it match the unruly strand.

Where did that come from?

I clear my throat to let Edward know that I'm re-entering the living room and set the two mugs of tea on the coffee table. Edward turns to me and smiles once again; I really wish he would stop smiling at me so much...in that way of his.

"Um, I'm just going to get one more thing. I'll be right back." I quickly run back to the kitchen and pull my unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. Yep, I need more alcohol. A hot toddy never hurt anyone.

I set the bottle of Irish whiskey on the table next to the mugs as Edward is, once again, looking at my painting above the hearth. When he turns back around, he looks down at the table, then back up to me, quirking an eyebrow in question.

"Ah, you don't have to have any of course, but, I think the alcohol was soaked up by all that food, and I'm feeling like another drink. You don't have to, because I know you have to drive - well of course you don't have to," I ramble on. I need to shut up, so I do...mid-sentence, or rambling.

Edward chuckles. "I think I could deal with a little bit and still manage to drive. I only have to make it out to my parents, so the drive isn't too much of a worry for me."

I uncap the bottle and pour some in my cup, then pass it to Edward. After that, we just talk. The whiskey loosens me up a little bit and I'm surprised at how easy it is to confide in Edward. We don't talk about many personal things that will move into dark territory for me, but I really enjoy our conversations. We started out sitting far apart from each other - me in Jake's chair and Edward on the floor - but as the night grows later and we both continue to spike our tea, we both end up sitting on the couch, facing each other. Edward has said something ridiculous and I am laughing so hard I'm crying, because I snorted, which made Edward laugh so hard that he snorted. And then it does it without my permission - my hand that is - moves to tousle the rest of Edward's hair to match that strand that has been bugging me all night. Before I realize what I'm doing, I've already done it and I see Edward's eyes change. I quickly pull my hand back but Edward is quick, and catches it in his own.

"Don't," he pleads. "It was an innocent move, and it's okay."

He knows me already. He has gone from being some random guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to a guy that I've laughed with, that I like, that I'm getting to know and want to know even more. Really, I don't want this, but I do...and don't.

I feel my heart begin to race as I internally berate myself and wonder what the fuck I am doing. I can't like Edward. I fucking can't. I'm married...well I was, am. I still am, because it's not like I fucking divorced Jake. He died. That doesn't make me not married. It makes me his fucking widow, and it also makes me the mother to...don't go there, Bella! If I go there, I will turn into a bawling puddle of goo in front of Edward, and he will have to save me yet again. I reach for my glass and empty it yet again. Edward notices and quickly refills it with the fresh pot of tea, but doesn't put any whiskey in. I grab the whiskey and take care of it myself and Edward simply nods, then quickly stands up.

"Do you have a computer? I want to show you something," he declares as he looks around the room. He has a wicked gleam in his eye and I wonder what he is up to.

I nod to the table by the chair where my laptop sits. Edward grabs it and brings it back to the couch with him and hands it to me. I don't ask but simply power it up and wait for everything to load. When the Internet page is up and running, I hand it back to him silently, but wonder what the hell he is going to show me.

Edward taps at the keys for a couple of minutes and I drink my hot toddy as I wait. I'm beginning to feel a good buzz - a really good buzz - which makes me worry about Edward, because he has been drinking as much as I have and he has to drive home. I think he may be camping on my couch tonight and I hate and love that I both love and hate that.
"Okay. Here it is. Now, believe it or not, it was my Mom that showed me this website. Shocking, I know. But this is some really funny shit." Edward was already giggling a little at the pictures on the page and he turned it to me. The website was called "The People of Wal-Mart." I groaned a little and rolled my eyes at him.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask him without really looking at anything except the title.
"Stop! Just give it a chance. Look at the pictures."

And this is what brings me out of my unexpected funk. Edward clicks from page to page and at one point I'm laughing so hard I have to excuse myself to go to the restroom, fearing that I may piss myself. When I get back, Edward has a fresh mug of tea and whiskey, which solidifies that he will be sleeping on my couch tonight...whether he wants to or not.

We look at the ridiculous pictures of the People of Wal-Mart for a little while longer, until I am no longer able to stifle my yawns. I'm not the only one who is tired, as Edward too, can't stop yawning.

"I should probably head ou…," Edward says as he stands up, but stumbles a little. I interrupt him.

"Oh no you don't. You're sleeping on my couch tonight. No arguments, so shut up in advance," I warn.

"I won't argue, I agree. I just didn't want to put you in an awkward position."
I stand up from the couch, swaying ever-so-slightly, and grab our empty mugs and the now almost-empty bottle of whiskey, and deposit them in the sink. On the way out, I flip the kitchen light off, as well as the hallway light and quickly run upstairs to grab a pillow and a couple of blankets for Edward. When I come back down he is working to put the fire out and I place his temporary bedding at the end of the couch.

"So, um...I need to say something, and I'm not sure where to start. Ah, thank you. Thank you for everything, Edward. I was really dreading this, and I'm sure you figured that out, but really, it wasn't horrible. I know that I owe you my life and I want to thank you for saving me that day. Thank you for coming here tonight and tell me what happened, and thank you for taking me to your parents. And thank you for also distracting me this evening, because I know that if you hadn't come in for the tea...and whiskey, my night would have been much worse. So, just, um...thank you for everything. I feel lucky to have met you."

I quickly turn to run up the stairs, a bit embarrassed by my confession, but he calls to me before I am even half turned.

"Bella, wait."

I turn back toward him but keep my focus on the carpet. I wish I could be much more drunk in this moment. Edward walks to me and stands just two feet in front of me, maybe less, on the verge of entering my personal space. I don't know what he is thinking, or planning to do, but I pray to God he doesn't to want I want and don't want him to do. Kiss me. Please don't kiss me.

"Look at me please?" he requests.

I take a deep breath and look up at him and see that he has a soft, endearing smile on his face. Not predatory, not wanting, but comforting. His arms come out and around me and he pulls me to him, hugging me. I don't know what to do at first, shocked by his touch and his closeness. I feel his chin rest on the top of my head and I kind of expect that he will say something, but he doesn't. I slowly raise my arms up to go around his waist and truthfully, I can't deny that this feels good. No, this feels incredible, but it also scares the shit out of me. He holds me a bit longer and then pulls me away from him a small fraction and looks me in the eyes searching for something - what, I don't know. He leans in and pecks me on the forehead, then drops his arms. I'm stunned.

"If you hear movement up in your bathroom, it will just be me, so don't worry," he says as he fluffs out his blankets.

I nod at him, go lock the front door, then climb the stairs to my bed. What a weird fucking day. I rush through my night routine in a hurry, worrying that Edward may need the bathroom and within five minutes, I'm laying underneath my covers. I worry that sleep won't come easily, after our discussion this afternoon, but I yawn and feel the heaviness in my eyelids. I know sleep will come quickly tonight...and it does.

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Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz. I sit up in bed, hearing a humming/buzzing sound. I think I've heard it before, but from where, I can't be sure. My stomach feels weird again, maybe I need to go to the restroom.

I pull the covers off of me and get out of bed but then the weirdness in my stomach becomes uncomfortable, like a tugging sensation. I know I've felt this before. I don't like this feeling. I walk from my bedroom and intend to go to the bathroom, but I miss the doorway and can't stop, I can't turn around. I keep walking until I am in front of the closed doorway of their room. The tugging is getting stronger and stronger and I feel like I could throw up.

My hand reaches up and out, twists the knob, and the door opens. I look down at my long t-shirt as the tugging sensation gets stronger and see something poking against the fabric, moving it. Slowly, I reach down and grip the hem of the shirt, which rests at my thighs, and slowly pull it up. I pull it above my panties, above my waist line and up to my diaphragm and I see them. Thousands of them. Black beetles pouring out of me, out of my stomach. I feel each and every one of their tiny legs gripping and pinching at my skin as they ripple like waves out of the gaping hole in my abdomen. The call of the swarm roars in my ears and I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out.

I cry and try to scream for Jake, and this time, sound comes out, but it isn't Jake's name that comes out, but Edward's. I scream and all of a sudden, everything goes quiet. Two of the beetles flutter up with open, black wings and cry out to me. At the same time, they click out ma-ma at me and it's in two varying tones, one low and one high. I raise my hand to cup them, then fall to the floor.

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I wake up screaming on the floor of the nursery. Edward cradles me in his arms, shushing me and trying his best to calm me down. I push my fists against him, at first scared and confused, but then I melt into his embrace. We sit there, with him rocking me for some time, the irony in that is almost comical, but I'm in no mood for funny. I sigh into his chest and slowly, he picks me up from the floor, carries me back to my room and lays me down on my bed, covering me back up.

"Bella," he says. It comes out choked.

"Please don't leave me alone, Edward."

Esme POV

Just as I dump the fettuccine into the colander to drain, I hear a car pull up outside. I'm unable to contain the grin that creeps across my face.

They've come; this will please Carlisle so very much.

I let the pasta sit in the sink and go to the cupboard and fetch two more plates to put on the table. I add two forks, spoons, and napkins beside the plates, making room for Edward and Bella. I even bought new wine glasses earlier in the day in hopes that they would come and enjoy a glass of wine with us; I guess I can open the bottle now.

I return to the pasta, placing it back in the pan and give the sauce another stir before setting the heat to low. The window above the kitchen sink is sweating with dew from the pasta being drained, but I can still tell that it's pouring down rain outside.

"Carlisle?" I yell for him. He's still in the study, making notes for an upcoming procedure he will be doing. There will be a few students sitting in and he'll have to provide them with notes as well as answer forum questions after the surgery. This is only something he does a few times a year, but he enjoys it.

A few moments later he walks into the kitchen; my back is to him, but I feel his presence. I've always been aware of it - of him. I feel his chin come to rest on my shoulder.

"Yes, darling?"

The corner of my mouth pulls up and goose pimples raise on my skin as I feel his breath on the sensitive skin of my neck. This man still has the ability to move me in the smallest ways; I pray that Edward finds our happiness someday...soon.

"Would you be a dear and open the bottle of wine in the fridge for me? We have guests." I can't help the excitement from seeping into my voice.

"Guests? What guests?"

"Edward and Bella just pulled up, they should be in here any moment."

He looks toward the entryway. "I'll go get the door, it's pouring out there."

I nod and he walks away. A few minutes later I hear Edward's voice as well as a soft female voice. She sounds sweet, but sad.

While I have yet to meet Bella, I've heard about her many times - well - more about her father, but also of what she has gone through. Carlisle's never gone into great detail about what happened to her, just saying she was in an accident last year and that she suffered a great loss. He spoke, and still does speak of her father, though.

When Charlie first passed, Carlisle was a mess - which wasn't normal for Carlisle. Of course he deals with a great amount of death in his line of work and he has learned to swallow it, if somewhat bitterly. He gives the patients he loses their time of respect and then lets it go; if he didn't, he would've lost his mind a long time ago.

But it was different with Charlie; Carlisle had deep respect for him. He had raised Bella alone for so many years and was a good man; he took care of the community and was known for his humbleness. But if you were lucky enough to get to know him better, he showed you another side; he had quite a quirky sense of humor from what Carlisle tells me.

When Charlie passed, Carlisle had a really hard time letting it go. He had come to be pretty good friends with the Chief. Of course most of Carlisle's time was spent in the hospital, and Charlie was brought there quite often due to his line of work; it was only a matter of time before the two of them had become friends.

Carlisle returns to the kitchen and pulls out the bottle of wine to open.

"I asked Edward to show Bella around, she seems a bit nervous." His voice is quiet, contemplative. He completes his task quietly.

"I imagine tonight is very difficult for her. Perhaps we should try to keep the dinner discussion as light as possible?"

"I agree, Esme." He grabs my hand brushing his thumb across my knuckles. "Shall we eat then?"

"Yes, everything is ready. Would you call them?"

He nods his head and walks out of the kitchen. I hear him yell for Edward and Bella and then muffled chatter comes from the direction of the dining room.

We eat our evening meal in a comfortable chatter. The topics are light and comfortable. Edward and Bella eat lightly due to the fact that they ate a little before they came over. I'm relieved at this, because Bella looks horribly skinny. I ask Bella many questions about her work; I have a deep love of art. She tells me that it's been a while since she has worked on anything, but that she plans to start again soon; she is awaiting inspiration. When we are all finished and full we make our way into the den, where the piano sits.

I look to my son. "Edward?"

"Do I have to, Mom?" He looks a little sheepish.

"Please. Just one or two?" I know he will. I know he wants to, but doesn't want come off as a show off. I often ask him to play after supper when he's visiting and miss the days when he was still at home with us and played every day.

He nods his head and moves to sit on the bench at the piano. I watch Bella watch him.
"Play one of yours, Edward." He nods and begins to play. I think Bella's jaw practically leaps off of her face.

I lean close to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. "Edward has played since he was four years old, and has been composing since he was twelve." I'm not bragging, but I won't say I'm not proud. His playing makes the most stoic person want to weep and laugh all at once.

"He's amazing. I mean, I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful. It's almost haunting really, in some parts anyway," she whispers back to me, like she doesn't dare mar the sound in the room.

I reach my hand down to hers where it dangles at her side and squeeze it. "He wrote it the night he came home from meeting you."

She squeezes my hand back at that, just quickly, and then releases it. I motion for her to have a seat in the chair by the fireplace.

Edward plays two more songs, and then we talk for quite a while. I notice that the time is growing late and I excuse myself to the kitchen to clean things up.
"Esme, may I help you clean up?"

I jump a little. "Oh! Bella, you startled me a bit. Thank you, but you're our guest. Besides, I only have to load the dishwasher and hand-wash a few larger pans."

"Well, the men are talking shop, I don't really fit into that conversation well. Would you mind if I just sit at the island then?"

"I wouldn't mind that at all, actually. I'd love it."

I wash dishes as we talk. She speaks of her brother a little bit, and I can tell that she respects him very much. Without me noticing, she somehow sidles herself up beside me and begins drying what I've washed. She seems comfortable like this, so I let her be. I direct her where to put things away when she asks.

I hand her a dripping metal pot to dry as I begin on the cutlery.

"Where does this one go?" She holds the dry stock pot in her hand.

"Oh, that one I keep above the range. There's a little step ladder through the laundry room. Do you want me to grab it?"

"No, I can get it." She walks through the door and comes back with the step stool, placing it in front of the range. She climbs up and opens the cupboard door; I hand her the pot to make sure she will not lose her balance and fall. She lifts her arms up a bit to put the pot on the shelf.

And then I see it, just as her shirt rises up a little from the movement of her arms. I see the faint line of a scar on her abdomen. I'm unable to see just how big it is from the angle, and I don't want to gawk at her either.

"It's from the accident." She looks at me, with the easiness of our last conversation gone.

"What is dear?" She catches me off guard and I feel bad that I had been staring.

"My scar. You made a noise. You saw my scar, right?" she asks me as she climbs down the step stool.

"I'm sorry; I'm so rude. I didn't mean to stare, I just, didn't realize. Carlisle only told me there was an accident, you know, confidentiality and all that."

She nods her head, then looks at me a little shyly. She pulls her shirt up just a bit and reveals the scar I had only glimpsed. It's actually quite large, and in a semi-circle around her belly button.

She traces it with her finger, "It's from a piece of glass from the passenger side window. It would've just sliced me open, a flesh wound, but then I shot forward into the dash and put pressure on it, which made it actually puncture my abdomen. I believe Carlisle tried to close it up as quickly as possible to stop the bleeding and protect …" she stopped her course of words. "That's why the stitching is puckered."

She walks back to the sink and begins washing the rest of the utensils. I let her and pick up the towel she'd been drying with, reversing our roles. We stand there in silence, doing the dishes, and her scar keeps flashing in my mind. Carlisle's words from last year replay over and over in my head, his anguish was so heavy. He had wanted to tell me more, but I wouldn't let him, afraid that too much would be said and I would blurt it out in front of the wrong people and get him into trouble.

And then it just kind of hits me. "Protect what, Bella?" She drops whatever she was washing, and it makes a muddled clank at the bottom of the sink.

I stare at the side of her face as she looks out the kitchen window into the darkness. Her chest rises and falls a little quicker and her lip quivers, just once.

I barely hear her.

"Them." Is all she says.

Oh good God in Heaven.

I take her wet hands out of the water and grasp them in mine. I want to pull her to me like my daughter, but I've been down a road close to hers. I look into her eyes and see the panic there. I just nod my head, I understand. She's close to tears, but I don't want to put her into that kind of awkward situation and have her face Edward with red rimmed eyes.

"Can I tell you something, Bella?"

She nods her head and I pull her to the island, guiding her to a bar stool. I go back to the fridge and pull out two bottles of beer, open them, and go to sit beside her at the island.

She pulls a long drink from her bottle and takes a deep, shaky breath.

I take a drink, then begin. "Before I met Carlisle, I was married to another man." I feel her eyes on me, but I continue. "We were high school sweethearts, and were married shortly after graduation. I had intended on going to college the following year, but I got pregnant. I was excited, but at the same time, not. I wanted to go to college first, it was important to me. My husband, Danny, said that I could go later, but that I didn't really need to. That made me mad. It felt like he was trying to control me, and he was using our unborn child to do so. I decided to look into some courses at the community college. I worked during the day to help pay the bills, so I was only able to take night courses, which didn't really bother me. I didn't tell Danny right away. I knew he wanted me to stay home and would be angry with me for a while, but a week before my classes were to begin, I knew I had to talk to him about it. I made a really nice meal that night, and after supper, I told him." I pause and take a drink of my beer. Bella does the same.

"Then he hit me. And he hit me again, and again. I ran up the stairs and into the first door, the bathroom. There was no phone so I figured I would just stay in there until he calmed down. I couldn't crawl out the window as it was too small for me to fit through, and it was on the second story anyway. But he began banging at the door, and the next thing I knew, he had broken through the door. He swore at me and called me ugly things. He grabbed me by my hair and threw me down the staircase. Our neighbor called the police and I was taken to the hospital …which is where I met Carlisle."

"You know …" I pause, looking for the strength to say the next few words. "I lost the baby. I wasn't incredibly far along, about twelve weeks. I was still in the first trimester and barely showing. Carlisle was my doctor, and when he told me, he was shaking. He was barely able to hold back the tears, but he did. He didn't even know me, yet he had all this compassion and sorrow for me. I told him it would be okay, although I didn't really believe it myself."

I look at our hands that are still joined, and I take hers in both of mine. "I hope you don't find me a sick or mean person when I say this, Bella, but it's important to my story. Of course I was sad that the child had died, but I couldn't find it in myself to really be sick about it. It's true that I hadn't been excited about the child, and I hadn't really felt any connection to it. Does that make me a horrible person? I don't know, but the truth is, I wouldn't change any of it. Not a single moment. It brought me to what I have now, and what I have now is absolutely perfect in every way."

At that moment, a throat cleared behind me. Edward stood there with a look of confusion on his face. I'm not sure how much he heard of my story, although he already knows it. We don't hide things in this family, but I'm sure that if he did hear, he will be confused behind my reasoning for telling her.

I finish off my beer and stand up, as does Bella. I pull her into a hug. "If you ever need to talk, you know where I live," I whisper to her quietly.

She nods her head and walks over to Edward just as Carlisle enters the room.

"It was so nice to see you again, Carlisle. My dad talked about you often, he considered you a good friend."

I look to Carlisle and see him swallow thickly. He nods his head. "Thank you, Bella, and it was very nice seeing you again as well. You are welcome in our home any time."
She nods her head and Edward gently pushes her toward the foyer by placing his hand on the small of her back. His gentleness melts my heart a little bit more.

I make my way toward Carlisle as I hear the door click shut behind them. My arms go around his torso and my head to his broad chest. I feel the warmth of his arms around my shoulders and he rests his head on mine.

"That poor woman. She has been through so much. She's strong; I could see in her eyes that she wants to try again, but she's so frightened. I hope she tries again."

I feel Carlisle nod his head.

"Let's go to bed. It has been a very long day."

"I love you, Carlisle."

"And I love you, Esme."

Edward POV

I wake up to my pager going off at four-thirty; slightly disoriented, I look around and remember that I'm in the on-call room after working a late shift last night. Out of nowhere, the nervousness hits me like a ton of bricks as I remember what day it is. I stay put on the bed, waiting for my rolling stomach to cooperate with me – it's a good thing it's empty.

Ever since the day I met Bella, my life has been passing by in odd spurts. The few days after the incident I was off of work and spent them with the family. I was kept busy by Mom and Alice while visiting, but as soon as I returned to Seattle and was back to work, I didn't have much to distract me but work itself; some times it worked, but most times, not.

I knew that Bella needed some time before calling me; I expected it. She would need to get home and get back into her life and just plain sort this shit out in her head; hell, even I had to do that. So that's what I did, then I waited for her to call me, because she said she would.

But the first full week went by, and then, so did the second.

By the middle of the third week, I wanted to pull all of my hair out. Why hadn't she called? Didn't she want to know what happened?

I tried my best to keep myself busy. I worked longer shifts at the hospital than I should have and did my best to stay under the chief's radar. I didn't need him harassing me about getting enough rest and having a life outside of the hospital; the long shifts worked for a short time, and I temporarily forgot about the dreams and images that plagued me. When I finally made it home late in the evenings or early mornings, all I could manage to do was throw myself on the bed and pray for sleep. Like I said, it worked for a while, a very short while. A couple weeks after the "incident" I began to have weird dreams - disturbing dreams - dreams where I was too late in saving her.

The third week passed. The fourth week…I got pissed.

I was angry with Bella for not calling me, and pissed off at Emmett for not making Bella call me, and even pissed off at Alice for repeatedly telling me to give Bella the benefit of the doubt. "She needs more time, Edward." Well, I'd had plenty of time, 'cuz what the fuck about my feelings, my thoughts, my dreams?

I gave her plenty of time; she chose to avoid the entire situation, which resulted in her trauma becoming my trauma. I couldn't get it, or her - if I was being honest -out of my head.

I was really beginning to dislike Bella. In some of my most angry moments I would see her face under that water, and I felt sad, and angry, and maybe a little scared too. I saw the image of her face when I closed my eyes at times, or in my dreams. I saw her beauty and her pain, and that was when I began to like Bella.

It was the Tuesday of the fifth week when I finally broke down and called Emmett for the second time. All it took was a "Hey, Edward," and I kind of just unloaded on him. To his credit, he didn't get pissed off at me as I ranted and raved about his sister and not being able to understand her thought process. I mean, I would want to know if it were me.

Emmett reassured me that Bella didwant to know, but that her pain had been deep, and that she had been through too much to simply overcome everything and come to terms with her past. He told me she'd had a hard year, and you just can't push healing. He said that it was easier for her to put off talking to me because by doing so, she could delay the imminent onslaught of fresh pain that hearing the story would cause.
The way he spoke about her past sounded a bit cryptic to me, but I didn't know her whole story. After I ended the call with Emmett, I was left quite confused and felt slightly guilty for being mad at her…well, just a little.

Emmett had advised me to call her, though, and I agreed that I needed to. It was time to get this out in the open so she and I could get past it. I didn't really want to call her, as I wanted her to call me, but apparently, that wasn't going to happen. Alice herself had warned me not to be calling her every five minutes to see if we could talk, but I had given her over five weeks, and this shit just needed out.

I gave myself one more day to think over what I wanted to say to her before I finally called.

The day has finally come; I am meeting Bella at her place today, at two-thirty this afternoon, and I'm nervous as hell.

I move from the cot and dial the number from my page and get the news that my six o'clock surgery on an eight week old is being rescheduled due to a fever. I really wish I could be in that surgery right now, concentrating on valves, vessels, and blood flow. Instead, I'm a nervous wreck, practically pulling every unruly strand of hair from my head.

I grab my bag from my locker and chat with some of the nurses for a while, giving them a few last instructions. I make one more round checking in on patients and finally make my way out of the PICU. I throw my bag into the back of the Volvo once in the parking garage and head back to my house.

The drive from the hospital to my place doesn't take long and soon I pull into my garage and head inside. It's now just a little after eight in the morning, but if I'm going to make it to Forks on time, I'm going to need to leave no later than nine o'clock or I won't make the four hour trip in time. I run upstairs and quickly throw together a weekend bag, packing a few sets of clothes as well as the essentials. I make my way into the closet and step out of my scrubs, debate on what to wear for a few minutes, and then scold myself, because it doesn't really matter. It's not like it's a date or anything. Huh, what brought that on? I need comfortable; this is going to be weird. I opt for my favorite pair of faded blue jeans and a button down shirt and my black Nike's. Casual, but comfortable. Yeah, that's how I think I should look; I don't want to come off looking like I am trying too hard. Trying too hard for what? For crying out loud, has someone slipped me some estrogen?

Shaking myself from the ridiculous thoughts running through my head, I grab my bag and head down to the kitchen, drob the bag by the door to the garage, then grab my phone and dial Mom & Dad's.

Mom answers. "Cullen Residence."

"Hey Mom."

"Hi, Edward. Aren't you supposed to be in surgery right now?"

"Yeah. We had to reschedule, the infant had a fever."

"Oh, that's too bad. But it's better to be safe. So, are you heading home soon then? Are you going to stop out to the house before going to see Charlie's daughter?"

I somehow keep forgetting that Bella is Charlie's daughter and that my mom and dad have that connection to her family.

"Well, I planned on going straight to her place, but that was only if I left right after surgery. I think I may get to town a bit sooner, so I think I will be. Is Alice supposed to be around?"

"No. Alice said she had to run to Tacoma for something. I didn't ask what for."

"Is Dad at the hospital today?"

"No, but he's on-call, so who knows what his schedule will look like. You know, Edward, if things start to get strained with Bella, you could bring her over here. I know your father would love to see her."

"Why would things get strained, Mom?" I ask, slightly annoyed. I don't want to be bothered by her suggestion, but I am.

"Calm down, Edward. I just know how passionate you get when telling a story, and just how you are in general. And this is quite a story to tell…so just keep it in mind. If you need a break, come on out."

"Okay. Thanks, Mom. I guess I'll be there a little after one o'clock or so."

"Ok, talk to you then, dear heart. Love you and drive safely."

"I will. Love you too, Mom." I disconnect the call. I love my mom, but at times, she is a bit too forward, although very considerate.

I quickly walk through the house and make sure all the lights are off and that the front door is locked. I never use it, but I still always check it. Yep, locked. I grab my bag and head out the kitchen door to the garage, locking it behind me.

As soon as I'm outside of Seattle, I grab my iPod and turn on some music; not really sure of what I'm in the mood for, I set it to shuffle. I try to focus on the upcoming conversation with Bella, and to imagine what she is going to say after I've told her. I think about how I'm sure she will react, but after awhile, the music variety has me imagining odd scenarios. I turn the shuffle off and just settle on classical.

*******************************************************************************

The drive is long and after a while I think back to that day when I finally left the hospital, feeling like a bundle of nerves. What should have taken me a little over an hour to get back to my parents house that day, instead, took forty minutes, and that was even in the shoddy weather. When I banged my way into the house, mom was the first person I encountered. She knew from one look that I was ready to explode. She silently walked over to me and wrapped me in her arms. Petite as she may be, she is a fierce mother and protector. The hug was all it took, I just dropped the entire bomb of the afternoon and evening on her. She listened fully through to the end, and when she knew I was finished, she began to ask questions. After talking for about an hour, she casually changed the subject, somehow knowing that I was ready to be done talking about it all; I was relieved. I had nothing more to say of it.

Throughout the past five weeks, she had occasionally brought it up, but I would quickly change the subject and she would drop it.

*******************************************************************************

The drive to Forks is entirely too short in my current frame of mind, but, after four hours of driving, I decide that I can't predict how this is going to go down; I'm now resigned to wait and see. I pull up in front of my parents home, still wondering how the rest of this day will go, and park my car in front of the house. I step out and stretch my legs and arms before grabbing my bag from the back seat, and head inside. I place my bag by the door as I quietly remove my shoes, then pad up the stairs.
"Mom? Dad?" The house is quiet, but the lights are on.

"I'm in the library, Edward. Come on up." I retrace my steps to grab my bag and climb the flight of stairs, turning into the library. My dad sits at his desk rifling through a stack of papers.

"Hey, Dad. Where's Mom at?"

"Hi, Edward. She ran to the market to get a few ingredients for supper. She said that she would try to get back before your…appointment." He eyes me, and I can see the corner of his mouth just barely lift.

"What?" I know that look. And his tone at the word appointment; by appointment, he means date.

"Nothing really, it's just that your mother is getting a little excited with this, and I told her she shouldn't. This is hardly a celebratory gathering. And besides, you two aren't even planning to come out here, correct?"

"No, not at all. And she needs to keep her head straight about this. This is so far from being a date. It's going to be more depressing than anything. And if we do show up, it may not be under the best of circumstances."

He nods, looking sad for a moment, then composes himself and changes his expression. "Edward. Just… be gentle and tell her slowly. As much as you want to get it over with - and she probably does as well - you need to make sure you get every detail out there. Don't throw it all at her at once. Give her some time to swallow it all down. Okay?"

I nod, agreeing. I glance at the clock and realize we have now been talking for thirty minutes.

"I better get going, Dad. I have to be there by two-thirty. What's Mom making for supper anyway?"

"Alfredo with asparagus and chicken."

My stomach grumbles; she knows that's my favorite. She did that shit on purpose.

"Terrific." I grab my bag from the floor just outside of the office and head up to my old bedroom on the third floor. I toss it on the bed as I enter and make my way into my bathroom to make sure my shirt hasn't gotten all wrinkled on the drive. The shirt is fine, the hair is horrendous…as usual. I flip the light off in the bathroom, and in the bedroom as well, before heading back downstairs to the kitchen. Mom is just returning with her shopping bags and trying to hurry to the counter before she drops a bag.

I quickly grab the falling bag and then start pulling ingredients, helping to put them away. I turn and face my mother. "So, alfredo? Why on earth would you be making that when you know I won't be here?"

"HA! You're not the only one who likes it, Edward. It's a free country and I can make what I want, when I want."

"Yes, it is, Mother, but no one really likes it that much, except for me."

She shrugs. "I felt like making it."

I shake my head at her and the conversation is over with her leaving the kitchen. I follow her out, but she starts to head up the stairs. I look out one of the windows and see that within the forty-five minutes I have been here, it has started raining. I hop down the stairs and grab a jacket from a peg beside the front door since I didn't bother to bring my own.

"I'm taking off; I want to drive around for just a bit and still get there a bit early," I yell up the stairs.

Mom walks down a few steps. "Don't forget what I said, Edward. And be nice."

"I'm always nice. Bye." I wave at her and open the door before she has time to comment.

Once in my car, I shake my hair out and start the car; turning it around and head into town. The rain is really starting to come down, so I don't drive around for long. I locate her home and notice that it is only ten minutes after two; I'm really early, but don't want to put it off any longer.

I park my car in her driveway and put the hood up on my jacket. I have to run to the front door, with the rain coming down in sheets, my clothes are soaking through quickly. The front stoop is covered, and for that I'm thankful; but it won't help my hair out one bit, it's already clinging to my head and water rivulets run down my neck and into the back of my shirt. I should have brought an umbrella; I'm sure I look similar to a drowned rat.

I raise my hand to knock on the green door but it remains in the air, unmoving; the anxiety and stress of the last almost six weeks swirling in my chest. My nervousness makes me sweat a little, even in this cold, and now I'm praying I don't smell. Maybe I should go back and put on more deodorant; I should have done it when I was assessing my hair and clothes at home.

Just knock damn it. My fist makes contact with the door and I wait...and wait. I knock again. What's taking her so long?

"Just a minute. I'll be right there."

After a few minutes the door is opens.

I'm not expecting what I see. She's still beautiful, like I remember, but she appears to have lost weight, which actually has me fearful for her. They only times I've seen her was in the library - when she was running - but I was never able to get a close look at her face. The only other times I had seen her was when I pulled her from the ocean, looking close to dead, which was quite unpleasant, and then at the hospital. Even there she was pretty, but she looked incredibly washed out and sallow. I notice her staring at me, waiting for me to say something. Snap out of it, Edward!

"Ah, hi. How are you, Bella?"

"Hello, Edward. I'm good, come on in." She opens the door wider for me and I step in.

"You're early. I was counting on the last twenty minutes to finish up in the kitchen," she says as she walks into the house. I shut the door and quickly follow after her.

"Sorry, I got into town a little earlier than expected, my surgery this morning was canceled. I can help in the kitchen, if you like."

"I'm almost done, but come in." I follow her into the smallish kitchen and seat myself on a bar stool at the island.

"So why was your surgery cancelled?" She moves around the kitchen fluidly, looking into the oven and inspecting her creation.

"Well, the infant I was to operate on had a fever. I can't do the operation when there is an infection present, so we had to reschedule. The child needs the surgery, but she can go without it for a few more weeks."

She nods and continues to bustle around. "You want something to drink? I have a spicy, sweet wine, beer, or water."

"I'll take a beer. Thanks."

She bends over and reaches into the refrigerator; I would be lying if I said I didn't check out her backside. I did...and it is a very nice backside, but now is not the time to dwell on that, if ever. She turns back around, and thankfully my eyes are not still focusing on her pert little ass. She opens the bottle of beer and hands it to me.

I gladly take it from her and take a swig of it. "Thank you."

"Forgive me for saying so, Bella, but are you eating well? You look like you've lost weight since I last saw you, and you were skinny to begin with. I would know."

She had her back to me, standing at the sink, but quickly spins on her heel. She eyes me in a not-so-pleasant way.

"I do not intend to be bitchy here, but let's get one thing straight, Dr. Cullen…"

"Edward."

She lets out a huff of air. "Edward," she replies, with the tone of agitation evident.

"This is not a hospital, or a doctor's office, or even some small family practice for that matter." She pauses and gestures around her, waving her arm. "This, is my home, my safe haven. So I would appreciate it if you would check your stethoscope at the door. If you can't do that, then we're done here."

I look down for a second, buying time, and then back up into the brown pools of her eyes. My voice comes out quiet, yet rugged. "I apologize. You're right, but I have to admit that I am a bit concerned for you."

"I appreciate it, Edward, but there's no need to be, so...just, stop it. Okay?" She turns back around, returning to the oven and opens it.

If she weren't so skinny to the point of worrying me, it would almost be funny. Funny that this slight woman is putting me in my place as if I were a child. With anyone else I'd feel patronized, but for some reason I don't with her. However, her small frame is far from funny; I'll have to figure out a way to fatten her up a bit. Making plans, Cullen?

She pulls a tray from the oven and the divine smell hits my nostrils. My stomach immediately growls in response, eliciting a smirk from Bella.

"That smells absolutely divine, Bella. What is it?"

She laughs and it sounds like tinkling wind chimes. "Individual spinach quiches with shitake mushrooms, shrimp, bacon and a little bit of seasoned brie. I made dessert tarts as well."

"That sounds mouthwatering, what are the dessert tarts if I may ask?" My stomach growls even louder and my saliva glands seem to be working overtime. I hadn't realized I was so hungry until now.

"They're black and red raspberry tarts with a sweetened cream cheese. Of course, the berries are not in season now, but I still had some in my freezer from last year. They tasted fine after I thawed them, and there was no freezer burn."

She sounds a little nervous explaining herself, like I will think frozen berries are disgusting. "I'm sure they will taste perfect. Are we going to be eating soon?"

She smiles a little and now I simply feel like a goon; pretty soon I will resemble a drooling dog. "Yeah, we can eat now, Edward. I just want to put these on some plates and we can go into the living room. Um...feel free to look around if you like." She gestures to the rest of the house with the spatula she holds in her small hand.

I get up off the barstool, grab my beer from the island, and head out of the kitchen. In front of me is the living room, where Bella has a fire going. The house must be a bit old as there is no main light fixture in the room, but lit up with a variety of lamps, and of course the fire as well. A few pieces of artwork decorate the walls, and I make my way to the mantle to inspect the piece that rests above it.

It's maybe the most pivotal piece in the room and one of the most moving pieces I have ever seen. The atmosphere of the painting is nostalgic, and serene, but slightly haunting. There are mostly gray and blue hues with dirty-tan undertones. The light in the painting shines hazily through trees of a surrounding forest. The lone subject of the painting floats in its ubiquity; it invokes a feeling of shyness.

A Black Swan.

I search the painting, looking for a signature from the artist, just barely finding it. Just above the gilded frame in a deep scarlet paint is the signature. IB. IB? It takes me a moment and then in my mind, I see the name on the file I held five weeks ago. Isabella Black. She painted this? I move to the next painting in the room which is in a completely different style from the first painting. Again, IB. There are several other paintings in the small room, but they are all by various other artists. I retrace my steps back to the mantle, and lean in closer to look at the signature.

From behind me, a throat clears and I jump, bumping the grate in front of the fireplace. Thankfully, it doesn't fall over, although I almost do.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. See something interesting?" She sounds like she is holding in a laugh.

"Go ahead, you can laugh. You scared me a bit. I guess I was engrossed. Ah, how long were you standing there?"

She laughs just a little. "Not long, only a few minutes."

I feel my eyes bug a little. This incites a bigger laugh from her. It's a nice sound, I need to figure out how to get her to laugh like that more often. Much more often.

"I'm just kidding; I barely just walked in the room."

She walks the rest of the way into the room and sets the two plates on the table in front of a tan couch. "I'll just get my drink and then we can eat…and then talk." She sounds so reluctant to say the last part.

"Okay." I make my way to the couch and sit down at the far end. She returns with her drink and sits in the chair opposite of me and grabs her plate.

"Dig in?" It escapes her as a question.

I grab my plate and we both begin to eat. An awkward silence settles between us, but I'm not sure I should start yet.

"This is really good, Bella. You didn't have to cook, but I must tell you I'm glad you did."

She nods. "You say it's good like you're surprised. Had you pegged me as a horrible cook, Edward?

I like when she says my name. It sounds nice coming from her mouth, in her voice, rolling off her lips. I clear my throat. "No no. Not at all. I...that came out all wrong, I apologize."

"It's perfectly fine. I'm chiding you anyway, you seem nervous."

I take a deep breath. Honesty is best. "I guess I am a bit. It's just been a while, and to be honest, I'm afraid of how you're going to react to what I tell you." She simply nods.

"Well, why don't we just enjoy the rest of the meal, and then we can get to that."

We eat the rest of the meal talking about random things here and there. When we're finished, I help her carry our plates back to the kitchen and offer to help her wash the dishes; she refuses and says she'll get to them later. I turn to go back to the living room but see her reach into a cabinet above the refrigerator. She pulls down a bottle of whiskey.

She turns around and looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "One shot glass or two? I'm going to need liquid courage for this."

I don't think getting sloshed is a good idea for me, or for her, but I don't think one will hurt. "Two."

She nods and grabs two shot glasses. She gestures to the living room once again and I walk that way. My stomach churns a little bit.

"Could I use your restroom first?" I ask.

"Oh yeah. It's upstairs though, at the end of the hall." She points in the direction with her head.

I make my way up the stairs and to the restroom, close the door behind me and flip the light on; my nerves are bundling up in my stomach. I splash a bit of cool water on my face and then towel it dry. Assessing my hair in the mirror, I notice that it has dried, resuming its poofy defiance to me. I take a few deep breaths to clear my head and head back downstairs. Bella sits in the same spot as when I left her, waiting, with two shots poured and sitting in front of her. She picks hers up, so I sit and do the same.

"Um…I would toast, but this is not really the toasting kind of situation." She shrugs and tips the shot back. I follow her lead.

I have to agree. This is definitely not a toasting situation.

She screws the lid back on the bottle and after a few moments, looks up to me. Fear is etched into her eyes and her shoulders are quite rigid.

"Try to relax. I'm going to try to soften this the best I can, but I am going to tell you everything."

She nods and sits back in the chair. "Ok, just go then."

So I do.

I tell her everything. I tell her about running through that downpour, following her. When I saw her bend over, and then straighten and run again. I tell her the way the sand felt under my feet and how it seemed to feel like such a long time before I got to the water and that she was already submerged. I explained my fear that I would be too late in that moment, knowing I still had to get that far out into the water and she was already under.

I tell her I was thankful for the lightening while submerged in water for the first time in my life; it allowed me to see underwater in the murky ocean to find her.
I explain what she looked like when I finally found her in the freezing water. Her hair flowing out from her head, like a halo.

I continue to tell her our story, but by the time I hear her breathing begin to pick up, I'm almost to the end.

"Your brother pulled both of us to shore. I was close, but I thought we were both going down because I was tired and my limbs were beginning to tingle. I gave you mouth to mouth and you finally spit up water. And then you began apologizing to Emmett. After that, he took you to the hospital, and I followed, and you know the rest."

I wasn't looking at her, and hadn't through most of the story. I stole a glance now.

Tears streamed down her face as she too, looked down at the floor. She quickly looked up and caught my eyes. She stood up and started pacing in the small room.

She was looked trapped, boxed in. Unsure of what I should do, I thought of Esme.

I quickly stood up. "Come on." I held my hand out to her.

"What? Where?" Her last word came out all choked-up sounding; heartbreaking.

"We both need some fresh air, maybe even a little bit of rain to get us out of this current mindset. Let's go."

She contemplates for a minute then swiftly goes to the front door and grabs a jacket from the antique coat tree. She hands me mine and opens the door; the roar of the rain is almost deafening.

"Should I grab an umbrella?" she asks loudly, trying to talk over the roar of the rain.

"I don't think it'll help. We will just have to run for it. My car is unlocked." She nods and I run first, knowing she will need to shut the door and turn the light out. I briefly worry about the fire, but it was close to burning out. Besides, we won't be at my parent's for long.

She is in the car after several moments and looks at me. Out of nowhere, she busts out laughing. "I'm sorry, but your hair is quite ridiculous in this rain."

I grimace at her a bit. "Well, Ms. Black, I'm glad I can amuse you." Truly, I'm just thankful that she is no longer crying; it was too heartbreaking.

She looks out the window as I start the car and then back to me. "So, where to?"

I back out of the driveway and head towards my parents house. "Someone else wants to see you tonight."

She looks at me sharply, questions in her eyes.

So, the lovely NicWise aka Diamond Camera as well as my ficwife SweetVenom69 has drug me into polyvores. Fucking polyvores. They are addictive damn it. So, anyway...for FGB, I am bidding on Nic to work on The Underside of Earth polyvores, but I thought I'd try my hand with The Change-Up polyvores. This is my first go at it, please, be gentle :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight, or any of the characters. I'm just having some fun.



CHAPTER 6

Bella POV

I wake up with a start; drenched in sweat, the result of yet another nightmare. Rolling over in the darkness, I take a look at the clock: four forty-two in the morning.

Surprisingly it's the sound of someone clearing their throat, rather than the bad dream that wakes me up. Realizing this, I quickly scan the room to look for the contributor. A form sits in the rocking chair I had occupied earlier in the evening, looking back at me.

"Hello, Mrs. Black. I'm sorry I woke you, but I'm in the hospital here briefly and wanted to stop by and say hello. How are you feeling this morning?"

The voice is soothing and has a calming lilt to it.

"Who are you? Do you work here at the hospital?" I ask, as I squint my eyes in an attempt to better see the mysterious visitor.

"I'm a doctor, but I don't work here in the hospital, although, I do make hospital visits. I have my own practice."

The dark form stands up and walks closer to the bed. A breeze of mint and chocolate wafts over me.

"I'm leaving my card for you and one with your brother as well. Don't avoid me, and don't fight the need you feel deep down inside to talk about that has happened. I know the real truth about what took place today. Call me soon, Bella."

And then, he just walks out. What was that all about, and who was he?

I lie back for a while just thinking. It doesn't take me long to drift off again. I dream about water once more, but this time it's soothing.

The nurse comes in at two o'clock in the afternoon to let me know that I will be getting discharged soon, and that I can change back into my own clothes. Do I have clean clothes here? She seems to read the question on my face and points to the small table in the corner. A duffel bag sits on top of it.

I walk over and retrieve the bag, toss it onto the bed, and open it up. Inside are all my favorite, much loved clothes and a few bathing essentials. Whoever put the bag together did a fantastic job, even including my shampoo and conditioner, but I want my own shower, so that can wait.

I put everything back in the bag and go into the restroom to change since the nurse is still in my room, working on the in-room computer. I assume she is working on my discharge information. After a few minutes, I emerge from the restroom fully clothed and feeling much more like myself. The nurse is standing by the bed, holding a folder.

"Ready to sign some papers and go home, dear?" she asks me in a soft tone.

"You have no idea. No offense, but I loathe hospitals."

She gives me a wry smile. "Most do. Okay, come on over and we'll get this done."

She sifts through a bunch of papers and has me sign four or five of them. Taking a few of the copies, she puts them in a folder. I see her pick up a small card. The card from my early morning visitor that I had completely forgotten about up until now.

"Make the call. This one is a good one," she says to me. She looks sad for a moment, but then gives me a big smile. "Dr. Marcus will be in in a few minutes to clear you and after that you are free to go. Shall I send your family in?"

"Yes, that would be great. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, dear! Take care."

Wow, I'm used to always getting the bitchy nurses. She was really nice.

While I wait for Emmett to come in, I unzip the bag and place the folder inside, and zip it back up.

"Hey, squirt!"

I practically jump out of my shoes. "Jeez Em, give a woman a heart attack why don't ya? A little warning next time please?"

He just smiles. "I did knock, Bell. But sorry, I didn't mean to scare the shit out of you."

Rose steps out from behind Emmett and elbows him in the side. She looks at me and rolls her eyes.

"Jeez Rose, I said I was sorry. That's gonna leave a bruise," Emmett whines.

"Better that than my four inch heel up your ass, isn't it?" Rose deadpans.

"Yeah, yeah."

Dr. Marcus walks in and I see Rose glare at Emmett one more time before she focuses her attention on my doctor, plastering a smile on her face.

"Hello, everyone. Mrs. Black." He nods at us and looks down at my file. "Ok, it looks like you are ready to go. Your temperature has been fine so we see no reason to keep you holed up here any longer. Do you have any questions or concerns?"

"Nope. I feel much better. My neck is just a tad stiff, but other than that, I'm fine."

"That is probably from the fall; ice it and you should be fine in a few days or so."

I look down and nod my head. I can feel my brother and sister-in-law's eyes on me.

"You are free to go then. But please, try and stay off slippery piers when it's raining and dark out from now on, Mrs. Black."

Emmett lets out a raspy cough and I hear Rose whisper something in his ear.

"I promise, Dr. Marcus. And thank you."

"It's no problem, just be careful," he requests, and then walks out of the room.

I'm left standing with my two favorite people in the world, who seem quite wary of me at the moment. After a few moments, Emmett clears his throat.

"Ready to go, Bella?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. Let's go."

The ride home is quiet. It's just Emmett and I in his Jeep since Rose is driving my car home. Emmett and I got into a bit of a disagreement over that back in the library parking lot, but I finally just dropped it. I can tell he wants to say something to me, but he won't. I've never seen my obnoxious brother quite so tongue tied.

It seems like barely any time at all has passed before we are pulling up in front of the house, with Rose pulling in right behind us. I reach for my bag as I get out, but Emmett already has it. I walk up the driveway and let myself in the house, leaving the door open for them. I know they want to come in, but I really hope they won't try to baby me too much before leaving.

I turn the television on in the living room and head into the kitchen.

"Drinks?" I call out to them.

"Tea," they reply simultaneously.

"Actually, make mine a Coke." That sounds right to me. Emmett rarely drinks tea, unless he can add four or five tablespoons of sugar to it.

I head back into the living room with two glasses of iced tea and a can of coke and place them on the coffee table. The tension is in the room is heavy, but I'm waiting for them to start. No way in heck am I going to be the opener for my own slaying.

I look at Emmett, and he is looking at Rose with a question in his eyes. Rose looks back to Emmett; she looks annoyed and anxious. Their silent conversation bothers me.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just say what you've got to say already, Emmett." God, I was going to keep my mouth shut and then it just opens and words spew out.

Emmett looks at me, and now he seems slightly angry. At me? Yeah, probably at me. I'm an asshole.

"Look, Bella. I'm not telling you this story. If you think that I'm going to make it easier on you by telling you so you don't have to talk to Edward, you can forget it. You need to see what kind of impact your self-loathing and isolation is having on other people. You are not the only one affected, damn it!" He is breathing more heavily now, and I'm a little shocked at his unexpected outburst. He's been holding it all in for me, seemingly waiting for me to figure everything out.

He stands up. "I need to go home. I'm tired; we're tired." He walks over to the door, with Rose at his side, and they both turn back to me. Emmett points his finger at me. "You better call him. It's time you see, Isabella!"

Isabella?

I can't remember the last time he called me that; it's been years and years. He really is pissed.

Rose walks out with Emmett following, but he stops and turns back around to look at me. He looks sad and a little bit older. "We love you. But you know...you aren't the only one hurting, Bell."

With that, he turns back around and walks out.

After that, the days go by quickly, and before I know it, it has been over five weeks since "the incident." Emmett and Rose are barely speaking to me and I have yet to learn what exactly happened the day I ran from the library.

For some reason, I can't quite make myself call Edward Cullen. I have dialed his number several times, only to hang up before the call has a chance to connect. I'm curious to hear what happened that day, but I'm reluctant because I know whatever he has to say won't be good. He was nothing but nice to me in the hospital. He saved my life for crying out loud. Still, I have to know. I resolve to call him...soon. Real soon.

A couple of days after I make the decision to call Edward, I find myself sitting at the outdoor bistro a block from my house, and sipping on coffee when my phone rings. The caller comes up unknown and, normally I don't answer unknown callers, but for some reason I do this time.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Bella?" The caller sounds hesitant.

"Yes. And who's this?"

…there's a pause… "This is Edward, Edward Cullen."

Well, here it is, and I'm tongue tied. I was banking on at least another day.

"Are you there, Bella?"

"Achgut," I choke on my own spit. "Oh, sorry. I kind of choked there a bit. Hi."

"Hello. Um, how are you?" he asks.

"I'm doing alright. Been busy. How about you?" Small talk. Ugh.

"I'm okay, but you never called, Mrs. Black," he reminds me. I feel guilty.

There seems to be a hint of something in his voice. Annoyance?

"I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say, except, I tried." Shit, why did I just say that?

"You tried? But you couldn't? Why is that?" He sounds interested now.

"I don't know. The uncertainty of where it would lead me?" I wait for him to understand. I hope he does. Now that I think of it, it was quite rude to not call him, especially after he helped me out, at least from what I've been told.

"Well. I think it's time you heard it. Don't you?"

His tone seems pushy, which is a bit annoying, but he's right. I want to know, and have been wondering these past five weeks. May as well get it over with.

"Alright. Lay it on me."

"Oh no. I'm not doing this over the phone. How about I come there, or you can come out to my parent's house? I'm going to be there over the weekend, visiting."

Hmm. I'm actually going to have to see this guy again. I would rather hear it over the phone and just be done, but he's obviously not going to allow that. Damn it. Fine.

"Alright. Um, I guess we could do it here. Saturday?"

"Saturday works, but not until after two o'clock. Is that alright?"

"That's fine. I'll see you then, Edward Cullen." I begin to pull the phone from my ear to hang up, but I hear him yell.

"Wait! I need your address."

I quickly give him my address. "Alright, bye then."

"Goodbye, Bella Black."

There he was, throwing my formal phone etiquette back in my face. I throw my phone in my purse, disgusted, and not caring to talk on it again for a while. I finish the last gulp of my coffee and walk home.

I don't sleep well the next few nights. The anxiety of the upcoming meeting with Edward has me all sorts of edgy. As I'm relaxing in front of the fire in the living room and sitting in Jake's recliner, it hits me all of a sudden. It's here. Friday night. I have to meet with Edward Cullen tomorrow afternoon. What am I going to say to him? What is he going to say to me? Of course, he is going to tell me what happened, but will that be it? Am I supposed to cook something, or will it be an in and out kind of thing? Ugh, that sounds dirty.

Maybe I should call and ask Rose what I should do. Yeah. Rose will know.

I dial Em and Rose's house number and Emmett picks it up on the third ring sounding winded. They already know of my "appointment" with Edward Cullen as I called and told as soon as I got home that night. They were glad that I would finally hear it, but wished I had taken the initiative to call him myself.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Em. Everything alright over there? You sound winded."

"Oh yeah, Rose just had me up in the attic searching for something, and then yelled at me to get the phone. The phone in our bedroom is broken, so I had to run all the way down to the first floor. Sorry it took me so long." He pants into the phone.

"No worries. Besides, it was only the third ring. What's Rose doing anyway?"

I hear him harrumph a little bit. "Painting her nails."

I burst out laughing. Leave it to Rose to be painting her nails and make Emmett run down three flights of stairs to get the phone because her nails are wet. "Well, at least you're getting your exercise! Can I talk to her?"

"Sure, hold on." He must've put the phone to his chest as I hear a muffled murmur and then Rosalie cussing him out.

"Stupid idiot. Hey, Bella, what's up?"

I can't hide the amusement in my voice. "Hey, Rose. Keeping him in line?"

"Ugh, he's such a baby. Anyway, my nails are wet, and my toes. You know how much it pisses me off when I smudge even one nail!"

"Yes. I do." I pause for a second, trying to figure out how to ask her this. "Um, Rose? So, Edward Cullen is coming over tomorrow so we can have this….talk. And, well, am I supposed to cook or have appetizers or emo beer or something?"

Rose lets out a snicker over the phone before she answers me. "Exactly what the hell is emo beer, Bella?"

"You know - the fancy imports that taste like shit that rich kids drink trying to appear poor and forlorn. Emo beer." Makes perfect sense to me.

She lets out a full belly laugh now. "Um. I think the beer you usually have will be sufficient, maybe some wine, but only for the sake of variety. And yes, it would be good to offer some type of sustenance...to be polite. The man may be hungry, Bella. You never know. Besides, he did save your life, and is now making the trek to your place to tell you about it."

I don't reply right away, but fidget with my shoelace. I'm not sure of the words I want to say, and anyway, they'll get caught in my throat.

Rose sighs, and I feel bad that I even called her about this. The whole situation is just awkward as shit.

"Listen, Bella. I met Edward. He's a nice guy and he genuinely seems to want to help you out." I'm about to interrupt, but Rose beats me, "and don't say you don't need any help. I'm not insinuating that you do, even if you do. Just, let him do this. He may need to get it off his chest just as much as you simply need to know what happened. You need to allow another person to offer their insight. A different perspective might shed some light for you."

I can't really disagree, although I really want to. It's hard not to get lost in all of my thoughts. Time to end this convo.

"Okay, so would it be smart go with little tarts and quiches? Fun-size it?"

Noticing my change in subject and urgency to end the phone call, Rose gives in. "Yeah, I think that would be good. And you know that you had better call me the second he leaves your house! Got it?"

"Got it sissy-in-law. Love you."

"Shut it. Love you, too."

I end the call and set the phone down. The nervousness immediately seeps back in and the frantic energy of the situation takes up residence in my sternum, feeling much like heartburn and anxiety.

It's just now getting on past seven in the evening and the sun has long since set. If I have to start cooking early in the morning, I certainly better make sure that I have all the necessary ingredients, which isn't possible.

First, I need to figure out exactly what I want to make. Something light, but satisfying. Nothing fancy of course, no need. Rose said to get wine just for the sake of variety, and I would like a white this time around. I have a bottle of Zeitgeist that an old childhood friend brought with her from Minnesota just before Christmas time. That will do well, and it's a bit sweet, so I need something to match that flavor.

Ugh, I am totally over thinking this. But the Zeitgeist will do.

I head into the living room and pick up my laptop and settle onto the couch. I type in mini quiches and have a few options; I resort to all too often, so I decide on Betty Crocker this time. She's never let me down. Clicking through a couple of pages, I finally find a recipe that sounds both quick and delicious: Spinach Quiche Bites. I think I'll add mushrooms, and maybe a little bit of brie, bacon and shrimp. Wipe drool from chin. I think I'll make my own dough though, so I'll also need to purchase those little tart tins.

For the sweet side, I think a mixture of black and red raspberries with cream cheese sounds good. That should be sufficient. I grab a pen and piece of paper off of the end table and set to making my list. I eventually set my computer aside and head to the kitchen to check my beer stock. As I figured, Emmett has left one bottle in there without telling me I need to buy more. I add that to my list.

I make the uneventful trip to the grocery store and I'm back home within an hour. For once, the sky is quite clear, so after all the groceries are put away and organized for quick and easy baking in the morning, I head upstairs to my bedroom. My big quilt is on the bed and I grab it, carrying it out to the balcony.

I flop down into one of the Adirondack chairs and pull the quilt over my legs and upper body. The air is slightly cool, but it's a nice night and the sky is clear. It won't last long; there is rain in the forecast and I can see the dew beginning to gather on the wrought iron end table that rests between the chairs.

I used to love the night sky. The vast open blackness of it with diamond-stud stars blinking and smiling at me, begging me to wish upon them. Such a sad and juvenile thing, but I would give anything to feel that way again. A wave of sadness washes through me as I fight off the memories of happy nights long past.

I no longer recognize happiness in the sky, and the sky I see tonight is much different then the sky from last year. I wait for my eyes to see the beauty in it, but my desire to see the beauty is sorely outweighed by my desire for the dark-speckled blanket to simply swallow me.

It doesn't, of course. It only keeps twinkling back at me…like it knows something I do not.

The air turns frigid as the night grows later and my blanket is no longer able to fully shelter me from the bitterness in the air. I head back inside and glance at the clock to see that it is after eleven already.

I have the tiredness that comes from overuse of muscles even though I haven't done anything to warrant it. My inability to sleep in stretches longer than four hours is beginning to take its toll. I feel the tension in my neck and decide that a shower is in order. Maybe it will also help me relax enough to fall asleep. Besides, I won't have time to shower in the morning.

"Hold still, I have to get these out of you."

I don't immediately recognize the voice. The face is just a blur, but even so, it looks oddly familiar. Still, my vision can't quite focus on the person in front of me. What I am able to see is that he is quite frantic.

"Bella, please, I have to get these out of you. For God's sake, hold still."

He almost seems angry with me now, but I can't figure out why. My tummy feels funny, like someone is pulling my skin inward, from the inside. It's a tugging sensation that leaves me feeling incredibly nauseous.

Looking around, I notice there are a lot of children's pictures on the walls and several stuffed animals. Where am I?

I look back to the man standing above me, but now, his face is perfectly clear. It's Edward, the man I barely know and who holds my secret.

"Edward?"

But suddenly Edward is not Edward anymore, Edward has turned into Jake, and Jake looks furious.

"Already, Bella? ALREADY?" He yells at me, his voice is agonized and I wonder at what I've done wrong.

The tugging gets stronger in my abdomen and I finally look down.

I immediately start breathing heavily and try to speak, but I can't. There are so many of them, coming out of me.

I need the doctor back.

"EDWARD!"

I sit straight up in my bed, drenched, as is my bed. I think that I may have called out to Edward...maybe screamed it. I glance at the clock. Four-sixteen in the morning.

I need another shower.

Why in the hell did Edward show up in my dream?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight, nor any of the characters…just giving them a new story.



CHAPTER 5

Edward POV

I escape Bella's hospital room as quickly as my feet will carry me; I can't quite muster a run, but am close to it. I need a little while to breathe and think, and that nurse couldn't have walked in at a better time. For a second there, I thought Bella had total recollection of what happened, but then she became confused, and I realized she only remembered something from the very beginning, before she even ran past me…which, oddly enough, confuses me. I'm going to have to ask her about that. Or would that be rude, since I'm basically a stranger to her?

I'm not sure if I'd rather she remembered the details herself, or if I would prefer to talk it out and help her through it. It's quite odd. She is a stranger to me, and I met her all of five hours ago - yet - I want to protect her from this harsh reality. I both hate and love that I am the one who will tell her. Or will her brother tell her?

Seriously. What is going on with me? I'm not usually like this.

Not quite ready to confront the faces in the waiting room, I make my way to the cafeteria. Though I'm not really hungry, Rose or Emmett may be, so I load up on junk food and head back up to the room.

Emmett and Rose have two chairs pulled close together and are speaking in hushed tones with their noses only a few inches apart. When I enter the room, Alice is back, but on her phone; she holds up a finger to me asking for a moment, and Emmett looks over at me.

Speaking to me very quickly, he asks, "Is she awake? Can I go see her yet?" He grabs onto Rose's hand, pulling her up beside him.

"Yeah, she's awake, Emmett, and you can go see her, but one at a time."

He turns back to Rose and kisses her; I walk over to the window to give them some privacy. They speak quietly for a few more minutes, and then I hear their chairs slide apart. I turn around and Emmett is staring at me.

"Did she say anything about what happened, Edward?"

I shake my head. "She doesn't remember anything except running out of the library. I was about to tell her when the nurse came in to do her hourly check. I thought you could talk to her first and see if she remembers anything. Or maybe you could tell her?"

"No. I think it would be best if you told her. You know exactly what happened and….and I don't think I will make it through to the end of it. Will you tell her for me?"

I nod my head and he turns back to Rose, telling her something before he leaves the room.

Now that I know I will be the one to tell her, it hits me like a freight train in the stomach, like it's happening all over again. It's just too much to deal with at the moment. With all that happened today, it's too much to go through again, and if I feel that way, I imagine it will be much worse for her.

Rose returns to the couch and I motion to the round table in the far corner and tell her to help herself to the junk food. I apologize for the pathetic variety but she waves me off. She walks over, viewing the meager selection.

I return my gaze to the night sky in an attempt to clear my head...it doesn't work. After just a few minutes, Alice sidles up beside me and wraps her arm around my waist. I return the sentiment, and wrap mine around her shoulders. She snuggles into my side just a bit more, and we stand like that for a while. Somber Alice does not show herself often, but I am grateful for her right now. I'm just not sure that I can handle her optimism after today's events.

"Was that Jazz on the phone?" I barely recognize my voice. It comes out raspy and tired.

Alice doesn't look at me, but nods. "You sound terrible, Edward. You need sleep. Why don't you go home? It might not be good for her to hear the whole story right now, and she needs her rest too."

"I know. I was just thinking that myself. She's been through a lot today." Too much, and my mind keeps wandering back to her medical file and what I wasn't able to read.

Alice nods. "I'm going to stay here with Rose and her husband. Jazz said he would come and get me whenever I call. Go home, Edward. Get some rest. You look haggard."

"Thanks for the confidence booster, Alice." I give her small smile, to let her know that I'm not bothered by her comment. Not that she would care anyway.

"But you do. I'm not sure I've ever seen you like this. It's a bit disarming, Edward," she says and looks up at me.

I sigh. All of a sudden I feel incredibly tired, both physically and emotionally drained. I keep seeing the image of her floating under the surface of the ocean in the flashes of the lightning. It's a loop that keeps replaying in my mind.

Alice's comment makes my mind up for me. I need my bed. As much as I would simply love to just get this over with, I don't have the energy for it right now. I need sleep. The only reason I was able to convince Dr. Marcus that I didn't need to be checked out is because I'm a doctor. I know the signs and symptoms to be looking for and I'm also Carlisle's son. He trusted my judgment based simply on that fact. But the day that started out so simple turned horribly wrong, and it is wearing on me. I am relieved that Alice had talked me into taking some vacation days so that I don't have to go back to work for a while.

Alice and I sit and chat for a while. I don't want to go until I have a chance to talk to Emmett…and his sister. While I don't think she will be happy about me making her wait to hear what happened, I think it would be best. I will have to convince Emmett of this as well.

After thirty minutes or so, he enters the room. He wears his own mask, hiding what emotions he can, but his eyes are rimmed with the scarlet of crying. He makes his way over to the couch and to his wife and sags down to sit beside her. I hear them whispering, but don't really make much out of it. I turn my attention back to Alice. It's none of my business and they deserve their privacy.

Alice and I fall to silence, but she pulls a deck of cards out of her purse and we tiredly attempt to play speed. Where I once reigned as a champion in this game, my brain simply refuses to think or see quickly enough to keep pace with Alice. After three games, she rolls her eyes at me and scoops up the cards to play solitaire.

I stand up to stretch, and at the same time, Rose rises and looks at me and then back to her husband.

"I'm going to go see Bella now. I'm sure they are going to want her left alone soon - it's getting late - but I want to talk to her tonight."

She kisses Emmett on the top of the head and walks out of the room. I walk over to the far end of the couch and sit down. Emmett is at the opposite end of me, not just sitting on the couch, but more like melded into the couch. He appears to no longer have any kind of energy to remain upright. I can't say I blame him.

"Excuse me for saying so Doc, but you don't look so great."

I run my hand through my disheveled hair, pushing it to the side. "Yeah, but I can say the same for you, Emmett."

He looks away from me to stare ahead at the blank pastel blue wall. We sit there in the silence until it is broken by the shrill ring of Alice's cell phone. She answers on the first ring. When I look away from her, Emmett is looking at me again.

"I think you should wait to tell her, Doc," Emmett says to me, scratching at the five o'clock shadow on his face.

I hadn't been holding my breath, but what I had in me, I let out. "I think that's a great idea. I don't think she is ready to hear what happened, and to be honest, I don't really have the energy," I say, feeling more relieved every second.

He nods his head and looks down in his lap. For the first time I see that he is clutching something in his right hand. He looks back up at me and my gaze comes back up to his eyes one second behind. He holds his hand out towards me, and I reach mine out and open my hand.

Thick paper - photo paper. Face down in my palm. I don't flip it up right away. He stands up from the couch.

"I'm going for a short walk. But that….that is why today happened." And with that, he walks out of the room.

I look over to Alice. She is on the phone again, I assume with Jasper, but she is staring at me.

I flip the picture over.

The picture is of Bella and a man. But the Bella in this picture is so different than the Bella I met today. This Bella is smiling and has a sparkle in her eye. She is happy and the smile on her face stretches wide. They are almost two completely different people, the Bella in this picture and the Bella I pulled from the water. I am actually quite sure they are two different people, at least in personality and demeanor. Picture Bella is happy and full of life. Ocean Bella is simply, not. I have to look away from Picture Bella; she makes me sadder than Ocean Bella.

I focus on the man. He is quite large, maybe close to Emmett's size in muscle mass, but quite a bit taller. His skin tone is somewhere between olive and russet, complimented by his dark brown eyes and hair. He is young and good looking. His smile is massive, even in comparison to Bella's.

Where is this man that makes Bella so happy? Why isn't he here?

Unable to look at the picture anymore, I set it down on the middle cushion of the couch, face down, and stand up. I walk over to the table where Alice is sitting, and see that she has a set of scrubs sitting on top of the table. The blue scrub top has the Seattle Children's logo on it, so I know that she grabbed it from my room at our parents'.

She is just finishing up her conversation with Jasper, but she hands the dry clothing out to me. I snatch it up like a lifeline. Why hadn't she given it to me earlier to change into?

I make my way into the private restroom that is attached to our waiting room; it is large enough to accommodate wheelchairs, so I have plenty of leg room to change. I flip the light on and lock the door behind me, instantly pulling off my gray, long sleeved shirt that is now quite stiff. I toss it to the floor and push the lever for the paper towel dispenser several times and wet it in the sink. The water is cold, but it feels good against my skin, wiping away the salt residue that clings to me. After wiping down my arms, torso and neck, I throw it away. I kick my shoes off and pry my socks off of my feet. They will most definitely need to be disposed of. Even after I remove them, they still keep the stiff shape of my feet and ankles. It's actually quite comical. My jeans actually hurt to pull off. The denim is extremely stiff and is not negotiating their removal with me very well at all; I think they actually pull some of my leg hair out. I manage though, and go through the pile of clothes Alice brought back for me. God love her, she remembered the essentials. I pull on a pair of clean socks, boxer briefs and the blue scrub bottoms.

I don't pull the shirt on quite yet. My head is screaming for attention. It itches so badly and I have no brush. I mess with the sink dials for the water and get it warm enough. I wet my hair, trying my best to keep the water in the sink, and not get it on the floor or my clean, dry clothes. With nothing other than the hospital grade hand soap I wash my hair the best I can manage in the small, shallow sink and dry it off with more paper towels. Finally, I put my shirt on. I take my water logged wallet out of my pants and shove the pile of clothes into the garbage can. It's the most fitting thing I can think to do with them.

When I finally emerge from the restroom, carrying my grungy shoes, Rose is back, as is Emmett, and they are once again sitting on the couch.

Emmett looks up at me and musters a tired smile. "You look a little better; your hair no longer needs its own zip code."

I feel my mouth quiver and my lip hitches up just a bit. "I feel better, it's amazing what a little bit of water, minus the salt, and clean clothes can really do." I notice that he has also changed his shirt and Rose now wears an oversized hooded sweatshirt. It looks like it belongs to Emmett. She wears the hood up.

He nods at me and leans over to give Rose a kiss on the cheek, then stands. "Shall we take a walk?"

I look at Alice and then back to him and nod. We head out of the room and down the hallway. After a while we come to a wall of windows that looks down on a small playground and sitting area. There are picnic and park benches scattered around, empty. Of course at this time of night, they would be empty, but the lights still shine down on them.

We stand there for a while, and just as I am about to break the silence that is beginning to lean towards awkward, he speaks.

"Rose disagrees about us waiting to tell her. She thinks Bella needs to know now. I told her I understand, but now is not the time. Maybe in a couple of days or a week after she is out of here and back home. She needs some time to bounce back from this." He quickly glances at me, but then, back at the lonely looking picnic tables.

I nod at him. "Okay. But can I be honest?" He nods. "I'm not sure why you are telling me all this. I'm a total outsider and I barely know any of you. The only odd connection we have is that my sister is marrying your wife's cousin, and that I happened to be in the right place at the right time today."

Again he nods, but doesn't answer me right away. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Rose asked me the same thing earlier, no offense, but she doesn't see why I'm letting a stranger in on all our family issues. Rose doesn't trust people easily. All I can say is that I have a good feeling about you. You saved my sister's life with no explanation as to why she put herself in that position, and you aren't bombarding us with questions. You cared enough about a stranger to risk your own life, not knowing just how she would need saving."

He sighs and rubs his face with his bear-sized palm and leaves it resting on the back of his neck.

"I don't know how I will ever be able to say thank you enough, Edward. But thank you." He pauses for a moment, and then asks "What are you going to do?" Emmett turns from the window and looks at me pointedly.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "First of all, stop thanking me. Once was more than enough, and of course I would save her. It wasn't an option not to. Second. I'm going to go tell her that we will talk soon, and that she needs her rest before she learns the whole story. Then, I'm going home...to bed."

I reach into the back pocket of my scrubs and retrieve my soggy wallet. I pull out two floppy business cards and hand them to him. "I'm going to give this to you, and you can give it to her. She can call me when she is ready to hear it all."

"Thanks. You ready to go back?" He asks me, already walking back toward the main corridor.

"Yeah. I'm going to go straight to her room, though. Would you tell my sister that I'll talk to her tomorrow?"

"Sure."

We walk down the hall quietly, with nothing more to say. I come to the hallway that leads to his sister's room and turn off while he keeps going. I hope I see him again sometime. In any other situation, I think he could be a pretty fun guy.

I come to Bella's door and hear low murmurs. I recognize two female voices, so the nurse must be in there again. After a while, the nurse emerges and practically jumps out of her shoes when she sees me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Is she awake?" I ask her.

"Yes, but she really needs to get some sleep," the nurse says, giving me an annoyed look.

"I know. I am just going in for a few minutes, and then she won't have any more visitors until morning."

Satisfied, she nods and walks toward the nurse's station.

I take a deep breath and push the door open.

The room is lit with only a small lamp that rests on a table in the corner. Bella sits slightly reclined in the hospital bed, just watching me. The air is charged with words unsaid, and for now, will remain unsaid…but she doesn't know that yet. I really don't want to upset her more after the day she has had, but if we do this now, it will do just that.

"How are you feeling, Bella?"

"A little better. I was able to take a shower and that helped significantly. My hair no longer has the ability to stand up on its own, and I see yours no longer does either." Her gaze looks up to my mop of hair.

"I had to make do, so I washed it in the bathroom sink."

She chuckles a bit at that, which makes me smile. It's nice to hear that come from her, and for a second, she doesn't look so worn out and distraught.

"That sucks. I at least had the luxury of a real shower."

"Well, rub it in why don't cha?" I tease.

I feel myself smiling, and she is too, but hers begins to fade. As does mine. "So are you ready to do this because…"

"I'm not sure if we should do this tonight. I'm actually not sure that I can even stay awake for it. After that shower, wow, my eye lids took on the weight of a sumo wrestler. I can barely keep them open now."

"I think that waiting to hear all this would be better. You just need to rest and get back home. We can talk about this later. I already gave Emmett my card, and I left an extra with him, for you. I will be in Forks, at my parent's house for another three days before heading back to Seattle. Call me when you are ready to talk?"

She nods her head, and I make my way to the corner, clicking the lamp off. I head back to the door, opening it, but then she speaks in a small, almost timid voice.

"You want to know what is truly ironic? For the first time since I can remember, I hadn't felt like I was drowning…when I was in the water. How fucked up is that?"

She doesn't wait for my answer, she rolls over, away from the door, and I leave.