A/N: Okay so this is something that is completely opposite of anything i've ever written before. This is not really a HEA story so if that's what you're looking for I suggest that you look elsewhere. This is a Tissue Box read. You have been warned. Now that being said. This is written to the Colbie Caillat song Without You. I suggest you listen to it while reading, it will really help you get the whole feel of the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead as she slept. He gently moved her blonde hair out of her face. They had gotten into an argument the night before about his leaving. They always fought when he was called out on assignment. He had been promising her for months that he would start giving the more dangerous assignments to someone else, but everyone knew that he was the best at what he did and as a result he was in high demand. His wife hadn't taken the news well. When he brought it up again last night, it only brought on another argument. One that resulted in going to bed mad at each other yet again. He knew she was only worried, but he was professional he could handle things and get back quickly. It would be a few weeks tops before he would see her again, but he took a few minutes to just soak up the site of her. Her face completely relaxed in sleep, her mouth slightly ajar puckered in a cute pout. He cupped her cheek and gently traced the outline of her lips with his thumb before he leaned in and kissed her once softly. "I love you Rosie," he whispered in the dark when he pulled back. "I love you so much. I promise you baby, I promise that this is the last time. Forgive me."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*Promises*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dear Rosie,

I couldn't sleep last night after you went to bed. I kept running our conversation through my head and I couldn't let it stay like this. I figured letters had always worked for us in the past so it might work now. I still have all of the letters you wrote to me when I was in the service. I keep my favorites on me like the one when you told me you love me for the first time, and the one that you wrote to me the first time i went back after the wedding. I pull them out when it gets really rough. I know that I always say that it'll be the last one, but Rosie I swear to you this time I mean it. I love you so much. Please forgive me?

Emmett

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Reality~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She rolled away so she couldn't see the empty bed beside her. The sheets that were exactly the way that they had been when she went to sleep last night. Cold and tucked in, no indication of there ever being another person in the giant king sized bed with her. Every time she woke up she was just expecting it all to have been some awful nightmare. That she'd wake up in his arms like she had grown accustomed to in the three years that they had been together, but it wasn't a dream, it was real life. Her real life nightmare.

Her feet touched the cold hardwood, but she barely noticed. She had been living her life on autopilot. Just going through the daily motions, very rarely breaking from the norm. She'd wake up, shower, dress, and go to work. But even the shop wasn't enough to keep her attention. She hadn't worked on any of the cars. She couldn't really bring herself to stray from the office, it was just too big of a reminder. There was no denying the fact that she was living a shell of the life she used to, but she didn't know how to escape.

At her best friend's insistence she started attending therapy two weeks ago, but little had really come from the experience so far. She spent the first part just talking about her relationship with Emmett. How they met, what it was like in the first year they were married. But no matter how much she talked, she still felt trapped in a deep, dark, endless hole one that she couldn't see a way out of. It wasn't that she didn't want the help, she just really didn't have any clue what the woman really wanted her to do. Talking about him only made it worse, but that's all the therapist wanted to do. Finally Rose just flat out asked her what this was supposed to do for her. "Before I can help you, you have to help yourself," is what she had said at their last session. "You need to self-evaluate Rose. I'm trying to get you to think about your past. Hopefully, it will help you move on in the future."

Move on? Is that what Rose wanted to do? Move on. Did that mean forgetting about Em and all the amazing times they had together? If that's what moving on meant then she wanted nothing to do with it. And self-evaluate? What the hell did that mean? Rose sank down into the chair at her vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't looked at herself in quite some time. What she saw was so different than from a month ago it shocked even her. Her hair hung limply around her thin face. Her cheeks and her eyes were hallow with the amount of weight that she'd lost and her eyes that had once been bright with fire and attitude were flat and dull. There were black circles under her eyes that never went away, for even when she slept she never really rested.

She now knew why her friends were looking at her with such concern in their eyes. Not only was she living a shadow of her former life, but she herself was a shell of the woman she used to be, but how did she fix it? She was sure that she could never again find that spark that had once been in her eyes. Not now. She looked to the right of the mirror and the silver photo frame caught her attention. She reached out and brought it to hold in her lap. It was from a happier time. She reached out and traced the outline of her own face. She was smiling and so full of life. She transferred her attention to the man at her side. He was looking not at the lens, but at her. His eyes held nothing but absolute love in them. She sat the picture back down and walked away from the mirror, yanking a hair tie through her hair as she made her way to the closet. She tried not to focus on the lack of clothes on the left side and she grabbed the first things her hands landed on. She pulled on a pair of drawstring yoga pants noticing briefly that she had to retie them tighter once more. She reached for an oversized knit sweater, her coat and her bag before she made her way to the cafe down the street for some coffee.

It was still dark outside and there was an oppressive chill in the air as was usual in the beginning of spring. The coffee shop was warm and smelled of freshly baked bread and the bitter sent of coffee. As she stood there at the counter there was a growl in her stomach. Rose couldn't remember the last time that she had eaten anything so she ordered a muffin to go along with her coffee. The woman behind the counter handed her the order with a sad smile on her face which Rose returned. Though it wasn't exactly a small town the neighborhood that they lived in, was a relatively close one. She sat down with her drink at a table by the window.

She absently picked at her muffin as she studied her surroundings. Around here were mostly business and university types reading or talking on the phone. There was a couple holding hands across the table on the other side of the cafe. Rose bit her lip and looked away. That was the hardest part of going out in public. Seeing people around her so happy when she felt so differently. She had come here to get away from the oppressive walls and memories in the apartment, but when she saw the framed newspaper clipping hanging on the wall suddenly this didn't seem like the best choice. How was it that she'd never seen that before? She averted her gaze from the image that accompanied that article entitled Our Local Hero. She suddenly wasn't very hungry. She pushed away the remnants of her breakfast and stared out the window.

From here you could see your way to the park. The park that held just about as many memories for her as the apartment did. The fountain where they'd met for the first time, the tree where they'd shared their first kiss, the bench where he'd proposed to her, every memory now tinged with a melancholy that was never there before because each held a promise of the future. A future that would never be reality. No children, no grandchildren, no sitting on a porch in a rocking chair holding hands. None of it would ever happen. She watched as a woman went storming down the sidewalk. A man only a few steps behind her. She turned around to face him. Rose watched as the couple argued. Then the man got down on his knees there on the sidewalk and looked as if he were begging, begging for her forgiveness. Rose reached into her pocket and touched the letter that he'd written to her. She glanced back up to see the woman in the mans arms kissing him. Rose's mouth broke out into another sad smile. She pulled out the note and retraced the lines of his messy handwriting with her index finger. She'd read the letter so many times that she had it memorized by now. She sat the letter down on the table and closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She reached in her bag and grabbed the pen and one of the diaries that she had carried with her since she turned 13. She opened to a blank page and then just stared. What did she write. She scribbled at the top.

Who is Rose?

It was a question she used to know the answer to. She was a strong, successful, independent woman. She was those things, but was she still? She didn't feel strong. She felt so weak, so fragile, so empty all the time now. Her heart wasn't breaking. It was gone. It had left this earth with the man that she'd given it to two years ago. Successful? What was the importance of success if the one person you want to share it with is gone? Independent. That was laughable. Alone. Rose was definitely alone, but alone and independent were two different things.

What do you want?

That was easy. What Rose wanted was to be able to turn back the hands of time. To be able to hold him once more, to have him hold her. That wasn't possible so what she'd settle for was to maybe fill the hole in her chest a little. She didn't know how to accomplish that. Was it time that she needed or something else? They say that time heals all wounds, but how could she heal if the wounds were too deep. She needed something to stitch her up and she figured the only thing that would do that were answers. She'd been left with so many questions. Too many questions. She knew there was no one who could answer them, but maybe she needed to ask them anyway.

She wrapped herself up in her winter coat and pulled her hat down over her head and headed out the door with one destination in mind. She hailed a cab and gave the driver the address. She watched as the city slowly faded away. About a mile or two out of the city limits the driver pulled up through an iron gate. "You sure this is where you want to go?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said as she handed the man the fare and exited the cab. She pulled her coat close to her as a March wind blew through the trees. The sun had just risen over the top of the hills, but it had yet to reach this place. There was no longer snow on the ground and for that Rose was thankful. She took deep breaths trying to ready herself for what she was about to do.

She slowly knelt down in front of the stone. She reached her gloved hand out to trace the words there.

Emmett McCarty. 1984 – 2010. You will never be forgotten.

"Em...are you here? I know I haven't been back since the funeral. I started seeing a therapist. Who would have thought it huh? I thought it would help but, I don't know. I thought that she could help me find the answers, but she keeps telling me I have to find the answers for myself. That I first have to figure out what I'm feeling. I'm not good at sharing my feelings. At least not with anyone else but you. So here I am. Talking to a stone, hoping that you can somehow hear me. I need some answers Em. You left me with so many questions. Why? Why do it?" She laughed once without humor. "You had to save those kids, I know. But you put yourself in danger. Again! After you promised me that you'd be safe." Her hands balled into fists at her side and she had to close her eyes to reign in her anger. It was like she had been numb for so long that everything she was feeling now was intensified.

Once she felt she had control of it she continued. "I know I should be proud. Their calling you a hero, you know. A local hero. I always thought the hero was supposed to live to reap the benefits. Is that why you did it? Did you want to be a hero? You already were one. You were my hero. My own personal angel. Couldn't you see that? Was I not enough, did the whole world need to see that too?" Tears were forming on her lids now that she was forming her worst fear into words. She wiped at her eyes with her hand. She scoffed once, "God, couldn't you see what you leaving did to us? It was destroying us. When you were home I always knew that there would be a time when you would leave again. I felt like our time was always limited. That our happiness had an expiration date. Then there were the arguments. No matter how much we argued over you quitting it never changed anything. The job was too much of who you were to ever give it up." The tears spilled from her eyes. "You had so much heart, so much passion. I knew that. It was one of the reasons that I married you. But you can't save the world Em. It's not possible." The tears were now streaming down her cheeks and she gave up trying to wipe them away. "I can get upset and angry at you, but what does it change? Nothing. I can get as mad as I want and it doesn't change a damn thing. You're gone and you're never coming back. Never." She was sobbing now. "I love you so much Em. I love you. I never got to tell you that before you left. I love you."

She didn't know how long she sat there crying in the graveyard. It felt like hours. She reached in her pocket to find something to wipe her nose with and was met by the envelope that held his last words to her. She remembered the couple at the park. Emmett had begged for forgiveness too. Forgiveness for leaving her again; forgiveness for ignoring her pleas. She closed her eyes and when the wind blew past she could almost hear his voice. "Forgive me." It sounded like a forgotten dream. It was in that moment that she knew what she needed to do. She reached in her bag and pulled out her diary and began to write. When she left she placed a folded piece of paper there on the ground. It had his name written on the outside in her graceful script. Inside were three words.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Redemption*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I forgive you.