Circle in the Square

by ScarlettLetters

There are four sides to this story. Sharp corners, round edges, anger, love, friendship, hope. There's always hope. Short, AH vignettes. One-shot for Hollygo99 purchased for FGB.

Circle in the Square

a story by ScarlettLetters

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. Any other copyrighted or trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners, all other content belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

This is a story told in four parts. Pieces of it have been rattling around my brain for ages, so "Thank you" to Hollygo99 for donating to FGB and forcing me to figure out the puzzle and to Jess and Beth for helping me make it readable.

~.:*:.~

Now

I lie on my side staring at the numbers on my alarm clock and realize I'm blinking to the beat of the seconds that are passing. I reach over and turn off the alarm before it can go off as I don't want to wake him, if he's even still here. Slowly, I roll onto my back and take several deep breaths. I allow myself a few minutes to hate him for turning me into this scared, nervous wreck. Digging deep, I find some small piece of energy and sit up; I put on the robe I threw at the end of the bed last night and walk purposefully to the door, remembering a time he would have been in my bed appreciating my naked ass walking out instead. I get to the door and hesitate just a bit as I reach for the knob.

"This is my house," I whisper to myself, then let out an angry snort for whispering. I'm such a wimp.

I turn the knob, ready to see his sleeping form on my couch, but instead I see the blanket folded haphazardly atop the pillow he used.

I can't stop the tears that start to fall. He's gone. Of course he is.

I shuffle to the bathroom and stop abruptly. The signs of his attempt at cleaning himself up are overwhelming. It was late when he showed up bruised and battered. I knew he was also high, and looking at the state of my bathroom, it shows. The towel he used is hanging over the rod, stained. I pull down the ruined cloth and throw it on the floor, I see that wide swaths of dirt remain around the inside of the tub, making the stark white of the ceramic that does show stand out. His filthy clothes are wadded up in the wicker waste basket. The smell of them makes me think of bus stations and alleys. I'm sure I'm not far off on how they got to smell the way they do. I grab the whole thing and dump it on top of the towel. And then I see it.

A drop of dried blood on some grout near the sink. Edward's blood. Something happens inside of me, and the next hour is a blur. When I finally stop moving, the bathroom has been scrubbed from top to bottom with cleanser and bleach. My hands are raw and sore, but I can breathe again.

I realize I'm done. I've spent six years loving him, but I'm finally done. I walk back to my room, pick up my cell phone and dial. The deep voice that answers almost brings me to tears.

"Dad? It's me. I'm ready to come home."

~.:*:.~

After

"So, that's the whole place. Jasper said you were looking to move right away, and I can leave everything here if you're interested."

I'm greeted with smiling blue eyes and dimples that in another life I might have found attractive, but all I can focus on right now is getting out.

"Yeah, I'm crashing at my parents' place after a bad break-up. You know how it goes."

I swallow and nod. I know exactly how it goes.

"The rent is $1250, and if you decide after a year that you want to buy it, well, we can talk more then."

"I like it; you've done a lot with the place, I can tell. I can write you a check for the security deposit and first month right now, if you want."

I let out a deep breath and restrain myself from jumping on this man who has now become my saving grace.

"That'd be great, Emmett. Really. The rest of the neighbors are wonderful, and Jasper knows the house as well as I do. I know you'll love it here."

He follows me into the kitchen where I have all the lease forms filled out, and he signs a twelve month agreement. He scrawls out a check, and I hand him a new set of keys.

"Here you go. Only you, me and Jasper have them, and if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it that way."

The look Emmett gives me tells me he knows that I'm barely holding it together. He takes the keys, but doesn't release my hand.

"That won't be a problem," he says. He takes a minute to look into my eyes. "I hope you find what you need in New York."

I'm taken aback and can't stop the lone tear that escapes down my cheek. I swipe at it angrily and nod.

"Me too."

~.:*:.~

Later

"You're sure?" Jasper asks as he takes a swig from his beer.

We are on my deck after loading the last of my things into my car. Over the last week, I shipped all my personal things to my parents' house. I leave on my cross-country drive in the morning. I look forward to the time alone, to seeing new things, to leaving this behind. Before I answer, I take a long drink of my own beer and set the bottle gently at my feet. I look at my soft blue hydrangea I planted just after moving in and answer him.

"We haven't had sex in over three years. He's been homeless for almost that long because he chooses to get high over getting clean, and he pulled his fucking teeth out in my bathroom with a pair of pliers. It's safe to say that I am finally sure."

"Good," he says, and lifts the bottle back to finish it.

I look over at the man I have been friends with for all my life. We went to grade school, high school, college, and even law school together. Everyone thinks we are brother and sister, never a couple, and that makes me happy; the idea of losing him due to a jealous partner would have been too much. Luckily, Alice sees that Jasper is like blood to me. She is the one who showed me the house next to theirs and convinced me to buy it with my inheritance after my grandmother passed. They helped me fix it up, and they even helped Edward as long as they could stand it. I know Jasper's position on Edward and how angry it makes him that I still allow him into my life, into my home, but that is over now. It has been almost a month since the last time. Had I known it was the last time, I wonder if I would have done something different, but there is nothing I can do about it now. I leave in less than twelve hours, and I don't think I'll ever be back.

~.:*:.~

---

~.:*:.~

EMMETT

~.:*:.~

Now

I'm finishing the last of my supper dishes when I hear the door handle jiggle and the sound of someone trying to fit a key in the lock. Soon a fist pounds on the frame.

"Come on! Open up! Don't be a bitch! It's fucking cold out, so open the goddamn door!"

Shit. It's time. She told me this might happen; I knew she meant it would. I had been looking forward to telling this douchebag to fuck off ever since I saw the sadness that clouded those gorgeous eyes of hers. I knew she moved across the entire country because of this guy. Only the one you love could make you pick up and leave everything you've built for yourself that quickly.

I wipe my hands off on a towel and crack my knuckles. I'm not proud, but a piece of me is going to enjoy this. I stride over to the door, making sure to pound my feet on the hardwood. Let him think about who is coming to the door for a few seconds as it sure as hell doesn't sound like who he's expecting.

I flip on the porch light, twist the bolt back and throw open the door.

"Can I help you?" I say in my most menacing voice. I look at what is huddled on my doorstep. This piece of shit is about as pathetic as I think a human being can get.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks.

I can see he's missing a few teeth, and he's not wearing anything but a tee-shirt and some scraped up jeans. His feet are bare and he needs a bath. Fuck me.

"I'm Emmett, who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the guy whose girlfriend owns this house."

"Girlfriend?" I snort. "Really? Well pal, your girlfriend doesn't live here anymore. I guess she forgot to tell you that."

I see nothing but confusion cross his face, and now I'm starting to feel bad.

"She...she's gone?" he asks, looking around me trying to see into the place.

"Yep. Packed up and moved. Don't ask me where, just know she's not here," I say, not letting him see that she left most of her stuff behind. "But uh, she said you might be by. Hold on."

I shut the door in his face and go over to the coat closet. I open it and take out the army duffel that I found when I moved in and the note she left for him. The note she left for me is tucked in my nightstand.

I open the door and hand him the bag and the note.

"Don't come back here, alright. That's all there is."

He doesn't say anything as he looks at the things she left for him, and I shut and lock the door. I hope he opens the bag because it's full of clothes, shoes and an old army coat that will warm him up. I'm a nosy fucker; I peeked inside, sue me. I go over to the window and see him sitting on the porch, turning the note over and over in his hands. I stay and watch until he sets the letter down and opens the bag. He pulls out shoes and the coat and that's when I get up and turn off the porch light. It's time for him to go.

~.:*:.~

After

"So he looked like shit?"

I nod at Jasper's question and continue to drag the monster of a Christmas tree his wife wants in their house out of my truck.

"Yeah, that sounds about right. It's been three months since he showed up last. So, uh," he says, giving the tree a tug, "you're not at all curious about them?"

I shake my head and slam the tailgate shut. It's none of my business and it's over now. Jasper's looking over at her house and I can tell he misses her.

"You would have loved her, man. Smart, funny—" he says softly.

"Jasper, can we not do this right now?" I say interrupting him.

I don't know how to tell my friend I'm falling in love with a woman I met twice, who fled the state because the guy she loves is a homeless junkie. I know he'd tell me I'm nuts, but the things she left in the house, and little touches I know she put into it with her own hands, let me know who she is. She's someone pretty amazing, and she's gone, so that's that.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I'm sure you don't what to hear the saga that is Edward and his drug addiction."

Alice runs out of the house and lets us know the path is all clear for us to bring the tree in. I grab the hacksaw from the back of my truck as I know there is no way in hell this tree is going to fit.

~.:*:.~

Later

I toss my cell phone back and forth between my hands. I feel the flop sweat run down my sides and let out a sound of disgust. I'm like a teenager. It's not like I haven't called a woman before, but this is different. This is her.

I flip open the damned thing and punch in her number she left for me.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Emmett McCarty. How are you?"

"Oh, hi Emmett. I'm... good actually. Is everything alright with the house?" Her voice sounds nervous.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. The house is great. Everything is perfect."

"Oh, good," she lets out a sigh of relief. "Crap, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. How are you, Emmett? How was your Christmas?"

"Not bad. Went over to my folks for a bit, then I saw Jasper and Alice and their behemoth tree."

She laughs at that, and I can't help but swell with pride for making a pretty lady laugh.

"I saw pictures. Jasper told me it took the two of you quite a while of sawing away on it to finally get it to fit. Alice always goes big, remember that," she says. "So, uh, what's up?"

"I, uh, just wanted to let you know that he came by, Edward that is, and I gave him the bag and the note."

I figure just saying it is the best way. Rip the band-aid off, per se. She's quiet for a few beats, and I hope I didn't screw this up.

"Good. I'm glad you told me."

We are both quiet for awhile.

"How—"

"Look, I—"

I tell her to go first. I really want to hear her voice more than anything.

"No, you go."

"I guess I'm wondering why?"

She lets out a deep sigh.

"I loved him; I was the only one he'd have anything to do with. If he didn't have my place to come back to once in awhile, where would he go? I guess it was my way of holding on to what I could of him. I did do all I could for him... for Edward. We all did. We tried interventions; he'd go to rehab and once he was out, he'd use again. I would have given him that stuff myself if I had any idea where he was when I left, but that's the problem. I never knew where he was or when he'd show up, so... yeah, thanks for doing that."

She wants me to understand her. To know she's not a terrible person, not that I would ever think that.

"You're a good person, Rosalie. with a good heart."

~.:*:.~

---

~.:*:.~

EDWARD

~.:*:.~

Now

I tie the lace on the boot and pull down the cuff of my jeans. Picking up the bag, I heft it onto my shoulder and haul myself up off the front steps of what is no longer Rose's house. I shove the note in one of the coat pockets. I don't want to read what she has to say right now. I start to head down the steps when I reach into my shirt and take off the chain that holds the house key. I throw it down and head out of the neighborhood. I don't even give Jasper and Alice's house a glance. Looks like I'm done here.

I walk, my tongue worrying the spot where three of my front teeth used to be the entire way, until I come to a spot that looks fairly safe. I just really need some sleep, so the beat up old shed will do for the night. I pop open the door with my shoulder and see that dust covers everything, so it's doubtful I'll be disturbed. I crouch down next to a stack of old bikes and wish they were in better shape so I could pawn them, but they are pieces of shit. I laugh at the poetry. A piece of shit leaning on pieces of shit. Fitting. Light shines down on me from the street lamp so I dig around the coat pocket for Rose's note. No time like the present, right?

My hands are dirty and have left marks on the linen envelope. I run my finger underneath the flap and slip it open. I pull out the thick paper and a hundred dollar bill. I stuff the money in my shoe and unfold the letter. Rose's handwriting is beautiful, just like her.

E~

This is the last I have for you. All the clothes and shoes I've found at yard sales or Goodwill are in the bag. I've told your parents that I'm leaving and that I am giving you money to get home. The hundred dollars is enough to get you to Forks by bus and something to eat. I hope that's what you use it for. If not, it's the last fix I ever pay for.

I thought I would be able to write more when I sat down to do this, Edward, but I'm all used up. I'm leaving, because if I don't, you won't be the only one who dies from this.

R.

I fold the letter back up, put it in the envelope and shove it back into a coat pocket. I'd always wondered when Rose would hit her limit. Everyone else in my life had hit theirs long ago. She hung around the longest. I know that has more to do with her own shit and not mine as Rose stopped loving me years ago. She had to have, because who she loved has been gone longer than I can remember.

The hundred is burning a hole in my boot, and I don't feel so tired anymore. I grab up the bag and make my way out of the shed. I have about a forty-five minute walk to where I know a guy will be. A guy that will be happy to see me with money this time.

~.:*:.~

After

I'm cold. It's sleeting, and I curse myself for smoking up the whole hundred. I could have paid for a few hours at a fleabag motel and gotten out of this crap weather, slept on a bed and maybe taken a shower. Instead I'm behind a dumpster down in the art district. I don't know how I got here. Wandered, I guess. Junkies like me don't come here, too much traffic, but here I am, freezing my ass off and too fucking stoned to do anything about it.

I hear a door to my left slide open, and I try to scoot further into the hole between the dumpster and the wall. The door slides shut with a bang, and it sounds like a gun going off in my head. I moan and whoever it is hears me and drops their keys in a puddle.

"Shit."

It's a feminine voice, so I doubt they'll mess with me. Whoever she is will scurry away. She'll do the safe thing. I close my eyes and try to drift off and enjoy the dregs of my high when I hear it.

"Are you okay?"

I turn my head and look up into the sleet and the light that is hanging over the door and squint. I can only see an outline of her shape, but I hear a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my God. Edward? Edward Cullen?"

~.:*:.~

Later

"How are you feeling, Edward?"

"Like shit."

Dr. Garrett writes down a note. Always with the notes.

"How are the new teeth working out?"

"I can eat more than oatmeal."

"That's progress. Are you ready for your friend to visit?"

My friend. Bella Swan. I vaguely recall her from high school; she is a couple years younger than me. I sure as hell never thought I'd see her again after I left. I never thought about her, yet now she's my friend. My only friend it seems.

"Yeah, sure."

"OK, well, enjoy the visit," he says and motions for me to go outside where Bella must be waiting. I pick up my pack of smokes and walk to the double glass doors and see Bella sitting at a stone table. She looks up and gives me a small wave.

"Hi, Edward."

"Hey, Bella. Thanks for coming."

I mean it. I don't say things I don't mean anymore. It's a step.

Bella's wearing some hippie skirt type thing and a flowy top. Her long hair is wavy and hangs down to her butt, wisps of it blow in the light spring breeze. She must have been painting recently as I can smell it on her. It's not bad; it's just Bella.

"Yeah, of course. I've been wondering how you are. I hope that you're getting better."

"I'm working through a lot of stuff," I answer, my leg bouncing like it's about to come off. I pull out a smoke and motion to her to see if she minds me lighting up. She nods at me to go ahead. I take a few deep drags and flick the ash away. "Look, Bella," I say and release the smoke, "I asked you to come here because I need to thank you."

She laughs nervously. "I thought that's what you just did."

"No, no...I mean, yes," I say, tapping my fingers against the stone tabletop, "but that's not what I want to really thank you for. That night, when you drove me home. I was in pretty bad shape and totally out of it. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't, but uh, you did. You helped me, and I'm grateful."

She reaches over, calms my fingers by placing her hand on top of mine, and looks at me with those enormous brown eyes of hers and just smiles.

"You're welcome, Edward."

It's a step. And I took it.

~.:*:.~

---

~.:*:.~

BELLA

~.:*:.~

Now

I throw my brush into the jar of mineral spirits and stretch my back. The canvases I'm working on are the largest I've tried to date, and so far, they are getting really good responses from the others in the studio. The project is a triptychs that I'm calling The Eye of the Storm. No one knows that they are Edward's eyes that I'm painting. Nobody needs to.

The first panel is what I remember from high school, the middle is what I saw the night I found him behind the studio, and the third is what I see when I look at him now. There are touches of light coming back, but the storm took a hard toll. I plan to have this ready for the showing our cooperative is having just before Christmas. I sent Edward and his parents an invitation, and Esme called me to tell me they would love to come down for it. I plan on giving it to them. I really hope they like it.

My friendship with Edward has been cautious. I'm not stupid; he's a drug addict. He might be clean and in recovery, but he'll always be an addict. That doesn't mean I don't care. That I haven't always cared. My feelings for Edward are the typical cliché. The town God loved by the younger, invisible girl. When he left Forks for college, I thought I would never get over it. I did, of course I did, but when Jessica told me years later that he was home with a girl he met in law school, a girl who could pass for a supermodel, I was devastated. When I saw him, filthy and emaciated, huddled behind a dumpster, I reacted on instinct. I took him home. Home to his family that I found out didn't know where he had been for months. He said he'd get help, and he did.

I pick up a smaller brush and dip it into some Bright Green and mix in a touch of Cadmium Yellow Light. I paint a few flecks on the third eye. It brightens it.

~.:*:.~

After

The show is being received really well. I keep a watchful eye on the door and smile when I see the Cullens walk in. I excuse myself from the group I have been talking to and make my way over. Esme takes me into her arms and wishes me a Merry Christmas and thanks me again for inviting them. I kiss Carlisle on the cheek and grab their coats. I turn to face Edward and am very happy to see that he's put on more weight and is looking the healthiest I've seen him. He might even be getting a little chunky.

"Hi," I say, barely able to contain myself.

"Hello, Bella."

I take his coat from him and hand all of them to the woman running the coat check. I grab Edward's hand and pull him along.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

I drag the three of them around the gallery, introducing them to my friends along the way and finally lead them to the wall where the painting hangs.

"Oh, Bella. Is this yours?" Esme gasps.

I smile and nod at her.

"It's tremendous, Bella. Just beautiful."

"Thank you, Carlisle."

I turn to Edward and he's looking at the painting with what can only be described as mixed emotions.

"I call it, The Eye of the Storm."

He turns to look at me, and I know he wants to ask.

I nod my head. He starts to blink rapidly and turns away to look at the painting again.

"It's just gorgeous, honey. I'm so glad we got to see it," Esme says, placing her arm around me and her other around Edward pulling him to her.

"I'm glad you like it," I say happily, "because it's yours."

All three Cullens whip their faces to mine.

"Oh, Bella, no, we can't accept this. It's too much," Esme protests.

I know they are aware of how much a painting of mine sells for. Forks is a small town, and it's not difficult to see signs of my prosperity in the new truck Charlie drives and the work that's been done on the house. It was only fair, really. He helped me through art school, so I helped him after.

"You have to, it's a gift. See, it says so right there." I point to the plaque hanging below the painting:

The Eye of the Storm

Oil on Canvas

Bella Swan

Gifted to The Cullen Family

December 25, 2010

"Seems like I owe you another 'thank you,'" Edward says into my ear. I can't help but shiver.

~.:*:.~

Later

"How did it all happen?"

We are sitting on the edge of a pier throwing bits of our bread into the water. Edward drove down for the day, and it's been a really nice visit. We grabbed some sandwiches at a deli and have been sitting and talking for a few hours. I don't know why I asked. That's a lie; yes I do. I really want to know, and we've never really talked about the why of it all before.

"I really liked getting high."

I try not to laugh at the simplicity of his answer, but I can't hold it in.

"I'm sorry, Edward. Shit, I don't mean to laugh."

He smiles at me and bumps me with his shoulder.

"I understand, but it's really that simple. I have impulse control issues, and it felt really fucking good. I snorted some meth with a law school buddy to help me get me through a study session for the bar exam, and I just kept snorting. Rose passed, of course; I failed miserably. She worked; I got stoned. I used everyone and everything around me up until you found me in an alley."

I look at him and know that behind the cavalier answer is pain, but it's been well over two years now, and he seems to be doing well.

"How's outpatient therapy going?"

"Good. I actually want to talk to you about that. I, uh, made the last amends I needed to."

I know what this means. He talked to Rosalie.

"How did that go?"

"About as well as it could, I guess. She's glad I got clean, but she's moved on. Not that I wanted anything with her; she's engaged to the guy who rented her house apparently," he adds hastily. I try not to smile like the idiot girl that I am as this is a very important step in Edward's recovery.

"I'm proud of you."

He smiles and twiddles his fingers around like he's nervous. We had passed being nervous around each other a long time ago. I nudge his foot with mine.

"What's up?" I ask.

"I'm moving into a place here in Seattle next month, Bella. I'm going to be working with other addicts."

I know my face shows each emotion that passes through me, fear, excitement, worry, confusion. I don't know what to say.

"I was hoping you would still be my friend. I could really use one."

Before I can answer he shakes his head.

"That's not what I wanted to say. Look, Bella. I hope I'm not misjudging things here, but I like you, and if you don't find the fucked up mess that is my past and the fact that I'm going to be dealing with staying clean every day for the rest of my life completely off-putting, would you like to go out on a date, a real date with me sometime?"

He looks up at me, and I see more light in his eyes than ever before. Saying yes to something never came so easy for me.

~.:*:.~

FIN.

~.:*:.~