Disclaimer: I own Mr Wallace, Mrs Farley, Mr Grabby-Hands and all other original characters. no claim to Twilight anything. Not Beta'd. This is the third time I've edited this piece of crap because Fanfiction's being a bitch, so I give up, forgive me for any mistakes, I beg you. It's 1:00 am and I can't deal with FF's temperamental BS.

The Hovel

Chapter one: The Hovel. And a little bit of Alice and Ben.

"Have you spoken to him today?"

Alice rolled her eyes, and leant forward to wipe the food off Ben's face as he swung his little legs back and forth, while seated in his high chair. The kid was the messiest eater Alice had ever seen.

"No, Ma, I haven't."

"Well, has-"

"No, Jasper hasn't spoken to him, either."

Her mother sighed, and then, "Then when was the last time you spoke to him?"

Alice looked over at the post it note that had Edward's new phone number and address on it, the one he'd told her to give their mother if she got too persistent.

"Last Tuesday."

Her mother gasped, "But that was a week ago!"

Rolling her eyes again, she made a face at the toddler and he giggled and reached his hands out with a little squeal. His disgustingly sticky, peanut butter and jelly covered hands.

She poked her tongue out at him and then got up to grab the sanitary wipes that she kept handy in the kitchen.

"Is that Benjamin?" Ma asked a hopeful lilt to her voice.

Alice cleared her throat and winked at the child, leaving him in another fit of giggles and squeals.

"No, Ma, I swapped him in. I decided I wanted a kid with red hair, not blonde."

"Alice."

She huffed, "Yes, of course it's Ben."

Her mother started to say something else, but Alice cut in, ready to be done with this conversation. She loved her mother, honestly she did. And Esme Cullen was a kind, compassionate lady, but she meddled like no other. It was best to keep her at a distance sometimes, especially when she was this worked up over something. Namely, Alice's brother.

"Look Ma, I gotta go, Ben and I are going to the park, and you've got lunch with Aunt Carmen, I'll talk later."

She hung up just as her mother came in with a, "But your brothe-"

She swapped the phone for the wipes and set to cleaning her son's face, arms and legs as he squirmed, whined and cried.

"This wouldn't be happening if you ate like a civilized being now would it? Honestly child, the food goes in your mouth, not everywhere else but."

Welcome to The Hovel

It was a Saturday, five minutes before six o'clock and Bella kept one eye on the door and one on the man with the grabby hands. It didn't seem to matter much to him that there was a bar between them. He'd reached right over that many a time. Bella was counting down the minutes till Jake had a fit and went hulk on the guy.

Jacob Black was the 'Bouncer', though that term sounded silly to her, given that apart from the occasional Mr. Grabby-Hands; there wasn't much need for one in this tiny crawl space of a bar.

And then Bella caught sight of what she'd been waiting for. Her six o'clock.

She smiled.

Moving away from Mr. Grabby-hands, Bella headed towards the other end of the bar, where he sat every Saturday, and where he placed himself again, tonight.

"Hey, Bella," he greeted, a small smile on his face.

She nodded, "Edward, your usual, yeah?"

It was always sad, she thought, when she could ask a customer if they wanted their usual. To have a 'usual' at a bar just seemed sort of wrong. Though it wasn't her place to judge; just as long as they tipped, or in his case, as long as he smiled a little, she'd get him that usual, and not say a word about it.

Edward nodded, "Please."

Bella set about getting his drink; whiskey on the rocks. Jack Daniel's to be specific.

She had learnt many things about her Saturday, six o'clock regular over the last four months.

He was a lawyer. He'd become rather successful, rather quickly and was told he'd probably make partner by the time he was 32, which was in a short 3 years for him.

He was divorced; as of six months ago. Papers signed and everything. He told Bella one night that he hoped he never had to talk to or see that woman again.

Bella didn't know her name. He never mentions it. Like it'd burn him if he did.

His mother lives in a tiny town called Forks, Washington. Her name is Esme.

And his sister Alice lives two blocks down from him, in an apartment with her boyfriend, Jasper and their 2 year old son, Benjamin.

He moved to New York to get closer to his sister and nephew, and to get away from his mother.

She sounded like a character, one Bella strangely wanted to meet. But that was silly, because she only knew Edward every Saturday at six till whatever time he left. And knowing him involved helping him become progressively more intoxicated as the night wore on, and then ensuring he caught a taxi home.

Bella assumed he was lonely. It was the only reason she could come up with for his repeated visits to this hole in the wall bar, that had faulty neon lights that flashed 'open' like a cheap hooker, and was always only half filled at most with the sad, sorry citizens of New York.

She herself was one of them, really. She was just another sad 24-year-old with no other consistent income than this bar and its tips. She'd tried her way in the art industry. Even sold a few drawings, but no one was really interested in silly cartoons. Bella had tried to get a job as a cartoonist for a newspaper, and then an animator, and then an illustrator, but she just seemed to hit wall after wall, and now, she was looking at a different wall. The one behind the bar, stacked with shelves that held bottle after bottle of alcohol.

An hour later

Traffic was slow, and that gave Bella time. Time to lean against the bar, across from Edward, and talk.

He was always surprisingly coherent when drunk; at least, he was for a little while.

"How was your week, Edward?" she asked, absently wiping down the bar top.

He shrugged, "It was okay, I guess."

She paused in her cleaning, and looked up at him, "Just okay?"

He smiled then, and nodded with a shrugged, "Nothing really to note. It was just okay."

Bella bit her lip and nodded, accepting.

Edward looked down at his drink and cleared his throat, "So, how was yours?"

This was always the way. The awkward back and forth for about a half hour, and then eventually, when he was drunk enough, he'd talk and talk and talk.

Bella scrubbed harder at a particularly sticky spot on the bar. Disgusting.

"Oh, you know, it was fine."

He almost smiled and then quirked an eyebrow, "Just fine?"

The mark started to come away, and the wooden bar-top actually had a slight shine to it where she'd been scrubbing. The wood was covered in a gloss that made it easier to slide drinks across to the patrons (whether that was an intentional advantage or not, she really didn't care).

"Ha ha," she glared a little at him, only a little, and then shrugged, "It could have been better."

"What happened?"

Bella snorted, "You know, as the bartender, I'm supposed to be asking you that question. It's in my job description and everything."

His only response was to send his right eyebrow further into his hairline.

She shook her, "It's nothing really, just . . . ugh, they cut my power on Wednesday, and I'm not gonna be able to get it back on till next pay."

Edward frowned and stared down at the drink he was nursing, "That doesn't sound like nothing. Sounds pretty bad, actually."

Bella's shoulders slumped in mock defeat, well; she told herself it was mock defeat.

"Oh Jeez, just rub it in some more, will you?" She smiled at him, letting him know she was kidding, and then she shrugged, "I know it's not 'nothing' but I'm also just trying not to think about it too much, you know? I'll get my pay on this Tuesday coming, and with the tips I've saved up, I'll be fine. Power back and everything."

He nodded, though he didn't look accepting at all.

A quick look around the bar showed that it was still slow, and they literally only had all of 5 customers.

Mr Grabby-Hands; who was now slumped over the bar, passed out. A blessing if there ever was one.

At the back of the establishment, near the old juke box, was Mrs Farley. She was also a regular, more so than Edward. Her husband slept around a lot, with women who were at least twenty years Mrs Farley's junior. The woman was only in her early forties, but because of years spent drinking in a bar, and the effects of a constantly depressed and angry state, she had the outward appearance of someone nearing sixty.

Over near one of the front tables, sat a girl who was just 21. Bella knew this because she'd had to ID check the girl, given that she looked 17. She'd been nursing the same drink the whole evening, a constant scowl on her face.

And of course she couldn't forget Mr Wallace. He was hidden in a booth close to wear Mrs Farley sat. He was a short man, and from where Bella stood, could not be seen over the backs of the cushioned booths.

She didn't know his story, because he only ever spoke long enough to order his drink and mutter his name when Bella had stubbornly insisted.

Early on, Bella had decided that his mostly silent presence said more about his story than his words ever could.

And then there was Edward.

"So, since you wheedled my poor as poor status out of me, what's with your glummer than usual appearance? And I will reach across this bar and strangle you if the next words out of your mouth are 'It's nothing'."

He shrugged, "My mother called Alice on Tuesday."

She nodded exaggeratedly, "Aaand . . . ?"

"And she was persistent."

"So persistent that she now has your phone number?"

He shook his head.

She cocked her head lightly in question, "Then I don't see the problem."

"I feel guilty."

Bella scrubbed harder, obsessively trying to bring out the shine.

"Ah. Well I guess that's a side effect of avoiding ones mother."

He groaned and tipped his head forward, "I know. But I really don't want to hear her tell me that I should come back home."

"Why?"

He looked back up at her, and grimaced, "Because I probably would, go home that is. And I really, really, don't want to."

"Why would you go home if you don't want to?"

"Well you said it didn't you? The side effect of having parents at all; they have the amazing ability to make us feel as guilty as sin."

Bella sighed, "Oh, I hate it when they do that. The parental guilt trip thing. Just because they gave us life, doesn't mean it's theirs."

Edward laughed, and said, "My mother is the queen of parental guilt trips. And it doesn't help that I already feel guilty enough."

They worked in silence for a while; well she worked, and he drank.

The 21-year-old was still nursing that same drink and curious as she was, Bella couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here all alone.

"A co-worker of mine thinks I have a problem."

Bella turned away from the girl and looked back at Edward, "Who? And what problem?"

He frowned, "Just some nosy-prick paralegal. Thinks he's my friend, I guess. He said I had a drinking problem," he paused and looked down at the bar top, "do you think," he huffed, "do you think that I do? Have a problem I mean."

She frowned, and thought for a second.

"You have a problem, yes, because you're a recently divorced man who works too much. Do you drink when you're not here?"

He shook his head, and then frowned, "Well, not alcohol at least."

She laughed, "Yes, that's what I meant. Edward, you come here every Saturday, and yes, you drink till you have trouble walking straight. One night in the week Edward, you drink, in company, my company and sometimes Mike's, and you talk, and you laugh a little, and then you go home," Bella discreetly pointed to Mrs Farley, "See her? She has a problem, because she's here every night Edward, and when she's not here, she's still drinking. And Mr Grabby-Hand's behind me? He has a problem. Your paralegal is a nosy-prick, as you said, and whether you have a problem or not is none of his or hers business."

He stared down at the now shining bar top.

"I don't plan on spending the rest of my Saturday nights here. At least not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that this isn't what an almost 30 year should be doing, getting drunk mostly by himself every Saturday night. Alcohol shouldn't be used as a coping mechanism and let's be honest, that's what I'm using it for. So I guess it's a problem, then."

She sighed, and held up her index finger and thumb, holding them about an inch apart, "Just a little one."

He nodded, "Just a little."

Bella knew what was coming next, as he stared down at the empty glass.

He looked up at her, eyes begging for an easy jury, and asked, "Can I get another?"

And ever the enabler, as so many bartenders were, she nodded, and got him another drink.

Two hours later and way too many drinks

He'd stopped talking a half hour ago. It was normal. Bella guessed that after a while, he just reached a place where he could stop and just be. He was staring at the empty glass, because she'd cut him of long before he'd stopped talking.

Mrs Farley was still here, but the girl had left an hour ago.

She'd just gotten up and left, her drink still half full, and her expression still glum. It was ironic how Bella hoped she'd see the girl again, because it was her innate curiosity that made her a good bartender, while the part of her that wasn't a bartender, really hoped she wouldn't ever see her again. At least not here and alone like she had been tonight.

Mr Wallace was still tucked away in his booth, and was still slowly becoming more intoxicated as the night wore on. It was only nine o'clock, and that was just the way it was. Mr Grabby-Hands had been incoherent by seven.

Speaking of, at about quarter to eight, he had surprisingly woken from his stupor and played a solo game of pool for a whole hour, before ordering another beer, and then promptly passing out again.

Jake had looked as though he wanted to push the guy out the door, but Bella had shaken her head. Why disturb a man who wasn't disturbing anyone else in that state? As long as the guy wasn't dead from alcohol poisoning or trying to grab a handful, which he wasn't, they didn't have a problem, Mr Grabby-Hands and her.

Bella knew from routine that Edward would stay like he was for the rest of the night.

She was now so bored, Bella wondered if crying might be more exciting. The only thing that kept her from doing nothing at all was the endlessly sticky bar top, and both Mrs Farley and Mr Wallace continued ordering of drinks.

There was a gush of cold air and the familiar sound of an unsteady gait.

She turned to the door and smiled.

"Mike, hey."

The boyish face smiled, "Hey Bells how's the night?"

She waited for him to sit himself down on a stool and said, "Slow."

Mike looked over to Edward and nodded in greeting, "Edward, fancy seeing you here."

Bella shook her head exasperated, and Edward almost smiled.

"I know, 'ight?"

Mike snorted and looked back at Bella, "Can I get a beer? Any'll do."

She raised a brow, "You take your meds today?"

He glared half-heartedly, "I took two this morning, but no, I haven't had any in the last eight hours, so can I please get a beer, Mom?"

Mike had hurt his knee in a basketball game three months ago, and was still healing. He'd never walk without a limp again, and he was always in pain. The medication helped with that, but he wasn't allowed to mix them with alcohol, as expected.

Bella huffed, and got him a beer, without even looking at what type.

"Aw, c'mon Bells, light, really?"

"How'd you get here?"

"Jess drove me."

"Fine, how're you gettin' back?"

"Taxi with my friend here," he said, jerking a thumb at Edward.

Bella swapped in his light beer for a regular. "Happy?"

He smiled, "Always."

"So how's Jess?"

He nodded, and drank.

He placed the drink down again and said, "She's good, her journalism class is killing her, though. Her words not mine."

Bella had, weirdly enough, never met Jess.

She knew how old the girl was, where she worked, and what she was doing in college. Mike's favourite conversation topic was how he'd met Jess in high school and fallen in love. He talked of how they'd moved to New York so that Jess could go to NYU. She was in her third year, and had 3 months to go before she turned twenty-one, which was why Bella had never met her before.

This was Mike's way of coping. He didn't get really drunk, only had a couple of beers, three at most. He dealt with his tattered basketball career by talking about everything good in his life, while drinking a few beers and making friends with the bartender, and the 'bouncer', and Saturday nights regular.

An Hour and a half later

"You ready to go, Man?"

Edward nodded, and let Mike help him up from the stool. Bella got on the other side of him and took on some of Edward's weight.

The air outside was freezing, as it was almost December, and the weather man this morning had told everyone that there'd be snow.

The taxi was already waiting at the curb, as Bella had called one up not long after Mike had walked in an hour and a half ago.

Mike got the door, and they both pushed Edward in, and a disgruntled grunt came from the man as he tried to rearrange himself on the leather seat.

Bella leant into the car a little, "You good?"

He looked at her and nodded his lips quirking just a tad. Enough to tell that he wanted to smile, but couldn't quite get one to work.

Bella smiled, a fully functioning smile, "Goodnight, Edward. Mike, you'll make sure he gets home, yeah?"

Mike rolled his eyes from where he sat next to Edward, "Yes Bella, what kinda person do you take me for? I'll walk him to the door an' kiss him goodnight and everything."

"Funny. Just, make sure he locks his door too, and that he doesn't pass out while he's still in the hall-"

"Okay, okay, tuck him in, give him a glass of water and the likes, got it. Jesus, go back inside woman, before you freeze, and look, you're annoying taxi guy, he wants to go, don't ya dude?"

The driver muttered something in a foreign language, and Mike looked back at Bella, enough light on his face for Bella to see the smirk, "See? Annoying, now go, he'll be fine."

She huffed, "Fine," and began to close the door.

Right as it was about to click shut, she heard a "Thank you, Bella."

And couldn't resist opening the door again to quickly mutter a, "Your welcome," as Mike whispered, "Jesus Christ, man, seriously."

I had this whole 'end note' written out but I can't be bothered writing it again. This'll do.

Thanks for reading.