Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight characters nor do I profit from using them in stories.

Hi all :) I'm participating in the Twilight 25, a writing challenge for authors. We have 3 months to produce 25 one-shots or drabbles based on 25 one word prompts. The pairings, ratings, and genres will be different for each prompt; they will not be connected in any way. You can go to http://thetwilight25(dot)livejournal(dot)com to check out the other authors and the pieces they write.

Thank you, thank you, thank you a thousand times over to the wonderful ladies over at Project Team Beta for their help in proofing this chapter. Their help was invaluable :)

I hope you enjoy the first of my 25 :)

Prompt: Plea
Pen name: CourtneyHale
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: T

~*~

Bella's suitcase was splayed open on their bed, items of clothing and belongings haphazardly thrown in its general direction. She realized that her life over the past months had been spiralling toward this moment—ever since Edward starting pleading a headache or a long day at the office as an excuse to shut himself away. From her and the reminders that her face brought.

She stormed into the room, dumping an armful of photographs and ornaments into her suitcase. She needed to get out. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe here. His excuses and pretexts had finally stifled the very will that had for so long, urged her to keep trying.

"Bella, please!" Edward groaned as he jogged after her. "Don't do this now!"

"Why? So we can go play happy families for your parents? I don't think so. I'm not a puppet. You don't pull my strings."

"Bella," he pleaded, "tell me love, what's it going to take? Tell me, anything and it's yours."

"You just don't get it, do you, Edward?" she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's not about the money, or what you've got, or what you can buy me. I don't care about any of that! I never did! I would have honestly thought you knew me better than that. But obviously –" she exhaled with finality – "you never knew me at all."

Edward's face fell as he ran his hand through his hair. Bella couldn't stop the strain of her heart strings as his eyes looked sadly out the window, his hands rubbing down his face as if trying to convince himself that this was a dream.

But it wasn't.

This was real. This was her life. Wrong, it had been her life. But finally, she had had enough. She loved Edward, she truly did, but he had changed. They had both changed. It wasn't like when they dated and he had brought her red roses and knew what that meant. It wasn't like before they were married and they had sat watching the sunset, talking amicably about the meaning of life. It wasn't like their wedding night, when he had shown her exactly how much he loved her through touches and kisses. It wasn't like the nine months when she had carried his child, when they cuddled up in bed cooing at and rubbing her stomach.

He had changed since then.

He spent more time at the piano in his music room than he spent in their bedroom. He slept more often on the couch than he did in their bed. She barely saw him in their excessively large house. When she sought him out, he was tired and drawn. However, without fail he managed to drag himself out of his funk every Sunday night for the traditional family dinner at his parent's house and pretend everything was okay.

But it wasn't.

She had religiously tended to the tiny grave that held their baby girl, but he never came. Not once. She took solace in the soft grass and concrete headstone; it almost made her feel whole again. It made her feel that maybe she could just reach out and touch her, feel her, hold her. But nothing could replace the gaping space that the two people who she loved most had left.

"Bella," he whispered, his voice breaking over her name.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I just can't do this anymore, Edward," she sighed, before turning back to her suitcase. Tears blurred her vision, and she caught her finger on the sharp zipper.

"Shit," she muttered as a trickle of blood slid down her finger. She sat down on their bed and held her finger, watching as her tears dropped down on to her finger and into the wound.

The bed shifted under her as Edward sat down noiselessly. Carefully, he reached for her finger and brought her hand in to his lap, where he cradled it. With the other hand he dabbed gently around the cut with a handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket. Once he was done cleaning her finger, he walked into their en suite and returned with a bandaid which he placed over her cut, smoothing the edges down with cautious precision.

She let her hand linger there as he caressed the length of her finger with his own. They both watched as his fingers slid between hers and curled them tenderly. She wiped her remaining tears away with her other hand before looking at Edward.

As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his head, and they sat for a moment in a silent search of each other's face. Bella sought the warm feeling of protection and love that they had once shared. She missed the way his arms used to feel around her, as he held her close. She missed looking into his green eyes and knowing that everything would be all right.

Edward found himself lost in the depth of Bella's eyes. He almost couldn't bear to acknowledge the hurt that was so close and so obviously pooling just below the surface. But he knew he had to. He knew that he had caused so much of that hurt. He knew that this, all of it, was his fault. He should have been there, and he wasn't. He should have held her properly, but he hadn't. How he had missed his Bella. There was no one to blame but himself. He had lost her; he had not searched day and night when she disappeared. He had accepted the shell of Bella when it was the soul, the life of Bella that he loved. It was this Bella that he needed to survive. She was him, his essence, his reason for being.

He wouldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her.

"Bella–," he began at the same time as she started with "Edward."

They shared a small smile, but he could see she had given up. She didn't believe in him anymore. He had to tell her. He had to make her see.

"Bella," he began again quickly, "I'm sorry. I wasn't there when you needed me. I let you believe I didn't care. I let you mourn alone. I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm sorry I let you think those things, because they were all wrong. I wasn't there for you because I couldn't even be there for myself. How could I have let you sacrifice so much? You nearly died, and what did I do? I encouraged you, I urged you on. I'll never forgive myself and I don't blame you if you can't either. But before you leave, Bella, please know that I do care. I've never cared for two people more than you and...our baby," he said, choking on the painful reminder of the one they had both lost.

Bella shook her head as her tears fell freely, and she kept her lips pressed together tightly to hold back the sobs that were threatening to overcome her body.

"Edward, I'm sorry--" she tried to begin, before Edward opened his mouth to protest. She held up her uninjured finger and placed it on his lips, quieting him.

"I'm sorry, Edward. But the fault wasn't entirely yours. I didn't want to lose you, but I did," she confessed before she took a deep breath. "I said that we would do this together, but I thought I could do it alone. We made this mess together," she said and looked sadly into Edward's eyes.

"Then I think it's only right that we fix it together too," he said, his voice slightly high as he tried to appear confident. But vulnerability and fear of rejection were exceedingly clear in his eyes.

Bella looked at him, really looked at him, and smiled as she saw an inkling of the man she loved. She could recognise the Edward and Bella they used to be in his eyes, and for all the money and belongings in the world, there was nothing she wanted more than that.

She nodded. "Okay."

Edward's eyes sparkled brightly and he struggled for words. Finally, he merely echoed her. "Okay."

Bella beamed happily before wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in his warm, comforting chest. He embraced her fully, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Finally, she had heard his plea and recognized it for what it was: an entreaty for mercy and change. He would make no more excuses.

~*~

Well there we have it. Don't forget that there are 24 more one-shots/drabbles to come, so alert and let me know what you thought :)