Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: It is really exciting to be writing the sequel to Beauty and the Geek! It has taken a lot longer than I expected, and I planned to begin this project after the conclusion of Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers, but when inspiration hits, it is against my beliefs as an author to ignore it. This story will shock you, so be prepared with a pillow to muffle squeals! It has been quite a while since we last saw these characters, and a lot has changed. In lesser news, please check my profile for interesting tidbits, links, and news as well as story updates. This chapter is slightly shorter than my new average, but I did not want to put in useless details. Next chapter will be longer. Thanks for everyone who has read Beauty and the Geek. The last time that I checked, it had a count of 54,000 total hits since August! I have learned so much from this story, and it has not only changed my writing style, but my life as well. It gave me confidence, something I have never had before. For once, I knew through your reviews that I was good at something, and it has made all the difference. My goal is to write something to make people, laugh, cry , or think, and that is the best gift I can ever be given. Thank you to you all!

Reasons To Be Missed

Chapter 1- With You, I'd Withstand

Slowly, I proceeded to my office. The walls that I passed through were cheerful in their yellow coloring, but their viewings held too many troubled spirits to maintain this appearance while the people here held so little cheer. There were the odd cases that were able to work out their problems with very little help, and were generally happy people that only needed a point in the right direction. Sadly, this was not the average person that came for my help.

Most people needed to be pushed toward the proper path, some needed to be metaphorically smacked back into reality, and there were a few that needed to get out of their own way. These clients were those who proved themselves to be the most challenging, the hardest to help partially because of their own egos or fears, who had the most difficult lives, but who were also some of the most intelligent, intriguing, and potentially loving people in existence.

Though they were the least easily, if ever, cured, and that I was not supposed to play favorites, I could not deny to myself that these strange, amazing people were the most interesting to work with. In this broad range of clients, there was one in particular that was the most fascinating. He was so unlike others I had seen, or even heard of from my friends in the same profession as mine. I had become to believe that there was no one else in the world like the person who awaited me in the office down the hall. That was what made him my preferred client. That was also what made him the most difficult.

With clipboard in my hand, I reached for the silver doorknob, and twisted it. Slipping through the white door frame, the man sitting with perfect posture on the couch looked up from the spot on the wall that caught his attention, met my eyes for a moment, then rested the hand that had been on his chin onto his knee.

Softly smiling, I propped my glasses onto my nose and eased myself into the large, leather seat that I called my own. I pulled up my trousers so they would not tighten and tear over my knees, crossed my leg over the other, and set the clipboard on my thigh. Twirling the maroon pen in my fingers, I quickly flipped through the pages beneath the metal clip, and took in the presence of my client.

His hair was messy, as was the norm. He was dressed in a white shirt with long sleeves, and blue jeans. A gray sweat jacket laid crumpled on the couch beside him, next to the thick, wool coat that hung over the armrest, an article of clothing necessary during the fall in Chicago. The pair of shocking, light eyes seemed glazed over, and unfocused.

The difference between this man and most other clients was that he never laid down on the couch, as the others always did. He never spoke of his past with the exception of his parents, and other minute details that he strategically compiled as if he were intentionally blocking out a part of his life. This was not so uncommon, but what was varied was that I didn't know whether this hole was the cause of his problems, or a result of it. I didn't press him about it; I didn't know if he was in fact leaving something important out or not, and it did not seem a priority at the time to uncover his secret, if he even had one.

The strangest part about this man was the fact that although he sought out therapy on his own terms, without even a suggestion by someone close to him, he, for the most part, avoided personal questions. Instead, he would talk extensively about the other aspects of his life in detail, and talking about what he wanted to do in the future and how he would go about doing it. For the most part, he would think aloud to me as he if he was alone. Again, I did not press. Sometimes the best therapy is having someone to listen. That was one of my talents; I was a good listener.

We greeted each other, and began the session.

"So, how has your week been so far?" I asked in habit.

"Good." He answered vaguely. He sat stiffly, with both hands on his knees, and trying to hard to remove the stress that hung in his forehead.

"And business?" I asked.

"Work is good too. I think my boss is really starting to like my work." He answered, with intentional detail.

"As he should. Your music was very good that time you played your piece for me."

"Thank you." He answered, then was quiet again. His eyes traveled to a land far away, and a sheen, glassy appearance came over them. Squinting my eyes behind the half moon spectacles, I ventured into his mind.

"You know that you can say anything to me, right? What you say does not leave this room; it is all in confidence."

"I know, Dr, and I am grateful for that." This man was smart, and knew what I was getting at. He had never acted like this before, especially since nothing new in his life upset him. I was determined to find out what caused this change in spirit and conduct.

"I have known you for a long time, son, and have never seen you act like this. If something upsets you, and you don't want to talk about it, then what is the use of you seeing me?" I asked with a soft, diplomatic voice free from sarcasm or accusation. He shifted his weight on the couch uncomfortably, and ran his hand through his hair. His back aligned with the couch, and leaned over toward the right as he rested his chin on his hand. "Did something happen?"

He paused for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Then, he cracked, and allowed the words to flow.

"Actually something did happen."

"Really? What was it?" I asked slowly, sensing the uneasiness in him.

"Um, well, I sort of...got a call from someone."

"A call? From whom?" My client shifted once more, then wiped the sweat off his pale forehead.

"Uh...I got a call from someone I haven't spoken to in years. One of my friends in high school." I leaned forward with interest, perplexed at this event.

"Wow. You have never spoken about your friends before, or school. How does this make you feel?" I asked the generic question that people in my profession ask when nothing else seems appropriate.

"I-I don't know. I haven't talked with any of my old friends for what, five...six? Yes, six years now."

"Well," I began. "It isn't uncommon that high school friends lose contact after they graduate."

"Yes, but we-we didn't have a falling out. We all had this fight, and it was sort of...catastrophic."

"We all?" I asked, not seeing the full picture.

"I really haven't told you anything about them, have I?" He asked, realizing my confusion.

"No. You haven't." I answered. "You should be happy that they called you; it's a sign of apology."

"Maybe." He said. "But it is so much more complicated. There is a lot of...history, to say the least."

"Of course. Many relationships are complicated, friendly or romantic. When.." I tried to think of what to call this person. "who was it that called you?" I asked, scratching my head of thinning salt and pepper colored hair.

"Well, I would have to tell you everything that happened before I do, seeing as you wouldn't understand otherwise."

"If you want to, I am listening." I offered. He ran his hand through his hair again, and shook his head anxiously.

"I don't really feel like talking about it, if that is alright, Dr." He said.

"Of course. Are you comfortable telling me about the phone call?"

"That seems harmless. Well, my friend called me on Tuesday out of the blue, and started by asking how I was." His eyes fell to the plush, white carpet, and shook his head slightly. "Sounds so different than last time we spoke. Older. More mature. Even so, I could still recognize who it was once I heard them speak. But god, it has been a while."

Was it a smile I saw on his face? Or was it my imagination? It was probably the latter, considering his voice inflection.

"Did he or she have any particular reason to call?" I asked.

"Yes. No, I mean sort of. They want to have lunch with me on Saturday." I glanced at the calendar. Today was listed under the column of Thursdays. He had little time to decide what to do.

"And what did you say?"

"I told them I would."

"Didn't you say that you went to high school in your hometown?"

"Yes, back in Forks. Yeah, they just moved here a few months ago, and found out I lived here too."

"I see. So is the lunch with this person only, or with however many people you were friends with?"

"Just this one."

"Are you considering talking to the rest?"

"It is really complicated."

"I know that. I think it would be good for you though. You are a very detached man, Edward."

"There is good reason for it, trust me. By complicated, I mean really, really complicated. It's hard to explain to someone who wasn't there."

"You could tell me about what happened. We have plenty of time here, and it seems that you have little else to talk about."

Edward pondered this for a moment, and blurted out.

"It was just so messy! So..so...I don't even know what! They were my friends, my best, best friends, we were so close, and all the sudden it was as if we meant nothing to each other! Like nothing even mattered! It was always the six of us, my best friends, one of them my ex-girlfriend. I-I...oh god, so much..." His head fell into his hands, his fingers knotted his dark hair, and his anguish poured out. He had never released so much, or had ever broken down, no less as much as he did. Tears seeped out of the corner of his eyes, and his shoulders shook.

I had never had children, but I had never felt so fatherly as I did just then. I walked over, sat next to Edward, and patted his shoulder, trying to make sense of his cryptic message.

"You...what so much?" I asked, yet heard no answer. Instead, his kept sobbing, then suddenly stopped. He smacked his curled fists on the couch, his blood boiling through the veins that stood out against his pale skin. His chin was raised, his eyes squeezed shut, and his jaws grinding against each other. Sniffing deeply, he composed himself.

I returned to my chair, and gave him a few moments to pull himself together. He returned his features to the way they were before, and even composed his speech. After five minutes, it was as if nothing had happened. In a cool, calm voice, he began his tale.

"We all became friends in a very unconventional way, that was for sure. It was my sophomore year in high school when I met Jasper Whitlock. Let's just say we were not at the top of the social ladder. We were friends almost instantaneously, and we were always together. We were made fun of, but it wasn't as bad now that we each had a friend. A few months later our tolerance ended. This guy, Emmett Tucker, the quarterback and school bully, got pissed at us. It was all a misunderstanding in the end, but I ended up with a broken nose, and Jasper was close to having a concussion. Emmett thought that Jasper was staring at his girlfriend, Rosalie, but he was really staring at Alice. I will clarify later.

Anyway, he was really protective of her. He punched me in the face, then slammed Jasper against a row of lockers. I had to take him to the hospital to see my dad, who's a doctor. My parents worried incesantly about me; they weren't stupid, they knew something was wrong.

After that, we decided to change, our appearances at least. His mom was a stylist, and helped us out, weird as it may seem. I was so scared that nothing would change, that I was truly ugly, inside and out, and it would only prove that I had no potential. Jasper forced me to go, saying we had nothing to lose. He was right. His mom took us to Seattle for a weekend and made us over. After that, we were never beaten up again. In fact, we were admired.

We worked out over the summer, I fell through a window, got new clothes, cut my hair, and got contact lenses. Somehow, my outer shell changed my mentality. I was confident, something I had never been before, and I loathed the Three Witches, as we called them. Nothing was worse in my eyes than those three girls, and I was determined to give them what they deserved; nothing.

Throughout tenth grade, Jasper had this massive crush on this girl named Alice Brandon. She was in the group of popular girls consisting of Alice, and her friends Rosalie Hale and Bella Swan. They were not nice at all; typical snobs. They were the witches.

Jasper was turned to mush by her, and was utterly helpless at the mention of her name. It was just as if he had known her all his life. If love at first sight existed, he certainly experienced it.

One day, Rosalie found out that Jasper and I were the kids beaten up by Emmett, her on and off boyfriend of the time. You see, we hadn't told anybody that we were the dweebs that Tucker left on the floor. No one recognized us, no one cared what happened to the dweebs. We had led people to believe that we were new students from Houston, where Jasper was originally from. She ended up apologizing to me about another small misunderstanding, and we became friends after that.

Earlier that week, I was walking through the school parking lot when I overheard her talking to Emmett. He mentioned something about Bella, Rosalie, and Alice laughing when Jasper and I were beaten up. She ended up coming to my house, and apologizing, while also telling me the truth about what happened. It turned out that neither she, nor her friends were even comfortable with what he did. And not just because Emmett was suspended, but because they thought it was wrong.

I ended up helping her keep her relationship with Emmett. He needed her to change before they continued dating. She was a superficial bitch, and was tired of it. Since she knew that I had changed, she asked me to help her. Of course, I tried to help her, and it worked. They were in love back then, but were so mean to each other it was no wonder they were having issues.

Anyway, I hated Bella before, and after the clarification from Rosalie, I was alright with her. We had the same Biology class, and we ended up talking. I ended up liking her. Liking her a lot, enough so there weren't appropriate words to explain it. Not love, not a crush, but somewhere in between.

It turns out Bella realized she needed to change as well. Her dad told her off, and she admitted her mistakes. She turned out to be this really unique, interesting person. She was unlike anyone I had ever met before, or after.

Anyway, one day I was driving behind Bella and her dad after they invited me over for dinner, and it was raining. Really raining. The roads were wet, and it was dark. We took a wrong turn, and ended up going down a mountain. That's when Bella's dad's brakes went out. They couldn't stop, and ended up flipping a few times over the rail at a turn, and rolled down the side. Her dad broke a few ribs, but Bella was in a coma by the time they got her to the hospital.

My dad is a doctor, and was working that night. She was in a coma for a few days. I couldn't eat, couldn't drink, couldn't sleep. I called Jasper from the hospital, and eventually Rosalie, Alice, Jasper, and even Emmett was there. My heart was broken. During those days, I fell in love with her. It was fast, but life is expedited, as well as emotions, when tragedy like that strikes. When she was asleep, I couldn't function. I realized then that life without her was like not having any life at all. On her last day of being asleep, she went into cardiac arrest. They stopped trying to resuscitate her, and I started preforming CPR. Nothing worked. I kissed her for the first time, and for the last time I thought, when she woke up. It was a miracle she woke up at all.

There was a miracle in everything that made us friends; all of the circumstances were so strange, so much like a movie or book. I have summarized it so much that maybe you can't completely understand, but our bonds were not just romantic. Sure, we became a group of three couples, but we were all friends. Every one of us, even Emmett and I, and Jasper and Emmett. We had all gone through so much that we all were so close. Most people have one really, really great friend in their lifetime. I had five. It was strange, but despite all of the terrible things we went through, high school was the best time of my life because of them. It is the worst feeling in the world to know the best years of your life are over. It hurts worse than anything."

His story touched me, and his pain could be felt in my bones. So this was what made Edward the man that he was. Trying to make my lips form words, I found what I wanted to say.

"Wow. That is a lot to go through as a teen. How is it that you all were so close, and yet you haven't spoken to them in years?" I asked hesitantly. It truly must have been a terrible ending for such seemingly cemented bonds to be released, and broken. It amazed me that one person could go through so much, and not have scars on his wrist, a liver weakened by large amounts of alcohol, or loss of brain cells from drug usage. Maybe this pain was too intense for these so called remedies.

"It was a bad ending. Really bad. When I think about it, I can't believe it happened either, that is until I remember how it came about." He sighed, and continued. "It began when Jasper moved away."