Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or anything related to it. SM owns it all.

Silent Initiations for Conversations

BPOV

"Bella? Bella. Wake up." Esme, my foster mom, was shaking me...attempting to pull me from one of the least fitful night's sleep in my abundant collection of restless nights.

I can't remember the last time I actually slept through a period of time greater than two hours. Two god forsaken hours that only provided the miniscule hope of escaping the horrific images that frequented the backside of my eyelids in the conscious state...and even more frequently in the unconscious state. It truly was a blessing when only darkness would loom around me, and of course it had to be during this darkness that someone would attempt to pull me from it.

"Bella, honey. Please wake up."

Oh, what I wouldn't give to have this blissfully blank state for just a few more hours. I rolled over and roughly started rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I was quite certain that, judging by the puffiness under my eyes, I looked every bit as hellish as I felt.

"Bella, Carlisle and I wanted to talk to you about something important."

I stopped rubbing my eyes, and turned my attention to Esme with a confused expression on my face. I quickly glanced past her to the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was only just past 8am, and it was a Saturday for crying out loud! What could they possibly want to talk to me about? Have I done something wrong? Were they going to send me back to the group home? I shot up, my eyes darting around the room as the panic began to rise and take me over.

"Oh..Bella dear, please calm down. It's nothing bad, and you aren't leaving us," Esme whispered as she clutched me to her chest, trying to ease the overwhelming emotions from taking me over completely.

It's only happened a handful of times..that she's aware of...but nontheless, it isn't pretty. Occasionally, when I'm overcome with panic, I end up catatonic for an indeterminant period of time. Frozen in my body as the panic seizes every nerve and muscle. Like I said, it isn't pretty, but at least it doesn't happen often anymore.

Esme still had her arms wrapped tightly around me, gently swaying from side to side, making quiet shushing noises in my ear. Her warmth and smell comforted me slightly. She was a mother in every sense of the word...nurturing, warm, and kind...but she isn't my mom, and it kills me that I can't be the daughter she deserves. The daughter that she can connect with, share things with, laugh with, and most of all bond with. I feel horrible that she has to crave for something she can never create on her own, her own child to bond with, and instead is left with a shell of a person who is no doubt more work than any worth.

I wonder from time to time how different her life would be had she met another child in the group home I was living in instead of me. Would that child have been able to bond with her and give her the relationship and closeness she so greatly deserves? Would she feel complete right now instead of an utter failure..which she's tried to hide from me, but I accidentally overheard her pouring her undeserved sorrows through streams of tears to Carlisle a few months back.

The panic slowly started to ebb away little by little, leaving only room for guilt. Guilt that I make her feel this way, because I'm damaged... flawed... broken. Damaged...that's a phenomenal word. It alone encapsulates so many levels of imperfection. Something can be damaged but not noticeable...or it can be damaged beyond repair..and every degree of imperfection held between. Unlike broken, which means just that..broken, unable to be fixed, past ability to repair...basically garbage. Yep that's fitting to what I am...I think I'll stick with that.

Esme's voice became clear once again, effectively luring me out of my internal diatribe, "There there, sweetheart. It's alright. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

I just nodded, both to acknowledge that I'd heard her, and to assure her that I was alright and hadn't crossed that metaphorical threshold of panic that rendered me frozen and unaware.

I pulled back slightly when I felt the slight moisture that had seeped into the shoulder of my shirt. I eyed the darkened spot and tentatively brought amy hand up to touch it...internally praying to whatever deity could possibly hear me that this spot was anything other than Esme's tears.

I cautiously turned my head just a fraction to chance a quick glimpse at Esme's face to give me the answer I knew would be in the form of an unanswered prayer. I slowly raised my eyes in the direction of her face and braced myself for what I knew would break me even further. As expected, Esme had shiny trails of tears that had already fallen, running down her gentle face.

I met her eyes with mine, waryness still the dominant expression upon my face, sorrow on hers. It killed me to see her this way. To know that I caused it. To know that because of my existence in her life, she was filled with sorrow.

I slowly brought my fingers to her face, and gently trapped a tear that was slowly making its way over her cheek between my fore and middle fingers. I broke from my gaze and looked down at my fingers and scowled.

It's been years since I've been able to do that. Years since I've been able to release any type of emotion whatsoever. Years. And yet, here Esme is, unable to stop her tears from brimming the edge because I make her feel like a failure. That she somehow isn't capable of being enough for me, when the truth is... I'm far from being enough for what she deserves.

If only I could convey that to her somehow. If only she could see that she's more than I could have ever hoped for in a mother...that in some ways she is more than my own mother. She's so many things that my own mother never was... stable, maternal, nurturing, forgiving to an abhorred degree, whereas my mother was quirky, childish, and often immature...but she was my mother and I loved her friendly childlike spirit. But Esme was more, she was what I always longed for in a mother when my mother was alive, if only I could convey that.

I looked back into Esme's eyes, which had thankfully dried during my struggle to overcome my envy for that moisture still lingering on my figertips, and pouted. It was the only way I knew how to show her that her unhappiness made me unhappy as well. I didn't wish to cause her pain. I didn't want to make her feel this way. If I needed to run to the end of the Earth to make her happy I would, but I couldn't do the one thing that I knew would heal her. I couldn't speak.

After a few silent moments, I suppose she resigned herself to the fact that my voice, as usual, wouldn't suddenly make a miraculous appearance. She sighed and took my hands into her warm ones, giving them a gentle squeeze, apparently steeling herself for what was to come.

I regarded her warily, not knowing what could possibly have her unnerved if it wasn't her telling me that she couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't fathom anything else that would warrant it, but I maintained my focus on her, patiently waiting for her to say something...anything really.

Finally after what seemed like eternity she spoke, "Honey, Carlisle and I have been doing some thinking, and we'd like to ask you to try something with us." She spoke softly, no doubt in hopes that whatever their ideas were I would respond without panic or absolute rejection.

Carlisle chose to enter my room at that point, no longer standing in the doorway watching the scene unfold before him as he had for at least the last few minutes I'm sure. He approached my bed slowly as Esme scooted over, leaving just enough room for him to sit on the edge. She released my left hand and quickly joined her right hand with his left in her lap. She gave him a quick smile and turned her attention back to me.

"Good morning, Bella," he said softly. I managed a tight smile and nodded as my return greeting. Envy quickly invaded my system as I thought of all the people in the world that have the ability to just respond in kind without a second thought about it.

"Bella, we think we've come up with an idea for how we can all communicate better with each other. I'm not saying it will be easy, but it would please us greatly if you could at least give it a try." He regarded me carefully, no doubt choosing his next words wisely.

"I know that we've made some progress with your willingness to write responses to questions on paper, but I can't help to think that there has to be a better way. I think it's safe to say that you hold back a lot of what you could say and resort to using the writing technique only when absolutely necessary." He and Esme both smiled slightly, almost encouragingly before he continued.

"We want you to be able to feel as though you can express yourself, and in a way that doesn't make you feel as though you are inconveniencing us. We could settle for the writing if you promised to actually use it to express yourself when you want to, but we would rather have a method that we could all use. I know that asking you to speak is far too much to ask at this point, but we would like to ask you to learn a different way of speaking with us," he said with a hopeful tone. I immediately froze.

Different way of speaking? There's only one way of speaking..to speak! And I can't! How can I get it across to them that it isn't that I don't want to speak...it's that I can't! I physically cannot force myself to do it, the fear locks me up instantly the second I brace myself to attempt it. Why can't they understand this?! They've witnessed it firsthand!

"Bella! Please calm down, we're not asking you to use your voice." His voice was almost frantic in attempts to cease the panic that was making a furious attempt to overcome me. Esme's grip on my hand was almost proof of her trying to keep me in the realm of the conscious and aware.

"Deep breaths, Bella, deep breaths. It's okay, there's nothing to fear." Esme's soothing voice quickly pulled me back from the ledge and forced me to refocus on them.

"Are you okay?" Carlisle asked while cautiously rubbing my shoulder.

I looked to him and nodded briefly, wondering just how bad this was going to get before it was over. He eyed me cautiously as if attemtping to weed out some sign that they should just discontinue this path before it becomes a disaster that no one was prepared to deal with at the moment. He quiked an eyebrow and looked to Esme, whos face clearly represented the fact that she, as well, didn't know if it was safe to continue. I took this as my sign to interject on their behalf.

They had done so much for me already, and it really was unfair that they had to bear the burden of my faults and inabilities. I could do this for them. I could hear them out. I had to. I had to show them that they deserved more. I had to show them in some aspect that I care, that as with as much effort that they expend attempting to help me, that I cared for them enough to put forth effort to help them as well.

I tapped his shoulder with the lightest touch to get his attention, and when he turned to face me I quickly moved my hand in a circular motion, conveying to him to continue. I squeezed Esme's hand to let her know it was alright, and I wanted to hear their idea. At the very least I could listen to it, even if I thought I couldn't follow through with it. At least they'd know I cared enough not to disregard it completely.

Carlisle nodded, then sighed. "Okay."

He pulled out a pamphlet and placed it in front of me on the bed. I picked it up and examined it curiously for a second before looking back at him and raising one of my eyebrows. How was a piece of paper supposed to help me?

He chuckled quietly in response to my muted question, but there was a flash of something in his eyes. I quickly looked to Esme to see that it didn't flash in her eyes, but instead lingered. It was hope. They were hoping that this would be the answer. That this would close that horrible gap between us that kept us from bonding. That wretched distance that could only be caused by non-existant communication.

Another fresh wave of guilt washed over me. Guilt from knowing that it was my fault. The lack of communication was never a fault of theirs, for they constantly involved me in "family" type conversations only to receive perfunctory nods, shrugs, head shakes, and facial expressions with which to decode my responses.

God what have I put these poor people through?

I looked back to Carlisle, silently asking him with my raised eyebrows to explain what this pamphlet was all about. I probably could just read the damn thing, but I'd rather hear it from them...this was their idea after all. And cue the hypocrite..Good Lord, I'm a walking conundrum!

Carlisle chuckled again...probably having caught the irony of my latest bout with hypocrisy. Well at least this jest was with myself and not with an inanimate object...but we'll save that for another time.

Carlisle looked up at me, with a genuine gentle smile, and spoke softly,"Bella, it's a pamphlet with information regarding sign language. If it's okay with you, Esme and I would like to learn it with you. We think it would be a great way to not only help you express yourself, but for us to bond as a family. I know you feel as though you burden us... don't give me that quizzical look, it's written all over your face almost habitually... but we don't want you to feel that way. Esme and I love you as our own, and we would do anything to help you, but you must allow it first and foremost."

My eyes immediately snapped to his at the mention of them loving me as their own. How could they possibly? If they had had their own, they wouldn't be broken. They wouldn't have had to work this hard to help their loved ones. They wouldn't have had communication problems, or bonding issues, and they certainly wouldn't have needed to learn an entire new freaking language. Well if it even is a language...huh I never thought about it before.

If you don't use sound to create a word which flows into a fluid river of words thus creating speech and the ability to express thoughts, ideas, opinions etc, but instead use silent gestures..does that still count? Does it matter? As long as it gets the point across...it's just as valid as using verbal language isn't it?

Esme once again broke through my internal dialogue, "Honey you don't have to give us an answer right now. We just thought we would suggest it as a means to help ourselves as a family, because that's what we are...a family. I know I'm not your real mother, and the bond that you shared with her cannot be broken, nor should it be, but I would love to be able to share a bond with you. I never want you to feel as though you are a burden, or that you are unwanted. We love you, I love you, and we want you to be part of this family. Will you please at least consider it?"

I looked up from the paper in my hand and met her sparkling hazel eyes with my own dull lifeless brown ones. Her eyes held everything I needed to know. She was being honest. She loved me, they loved me, they wanted to help me, they hoped I would let them, and she hoped I wanted to be a part of this family as well. I didn't know how this would work...or if it would work even, but I knew I had to try. I had to try for them, for us. I nodded my head briefly and returned my attention to the pamphlet.

"Thank you, for at least considering it. I can't even convey how much this means to us." Esme's voice started out strong, but ended just above a whisper.

I looked up again, curious to see what made her voice weaken...and was shocked when I spotted the fresh tear trailing lazily down her cheek. Again I softly reached up, trapped it between my fingers, scowled at the moisture on my fingers, and then again pouted at Esme. No matter what I do I hurt her. Everything I do, or don't do for that matter, pains her. Esme shook her head quickly from side to side, and I raised an eyebrow at her.

"No," she said firmly. "Bella, I'm not sad. Quite the contrary actually. I'm happy. These are happy tears my dear." A slow tiny smile began to form on my lips, and I nodded slightly to show her I understood.

"I have to get going to work now, Bella, and Esme has a brunch to attend this morning. It's actually sunny out today, and quite warm. Why don't you just relax today, don't think too much about what we've discussed. Just give it some time and when you're ready we'll discuss it again okay?" Carlisle spoke as he got up off the bed.

He bent down and kissed the top of my head in a fatherly gesture before standing up and taking my small hand in his massive one.

"We love you Bella, and we just want you to be happy." He smiled, released my hand and made his way to my door before turning around to wait for Esme. She squeezed my hand that was still in her grasp, and cupped my cheek with her free one before kissing me once on the opposite cheek.

"I love you, Bella. Enjoy your day. I'm just a text message away if you need anything, okay?" I nodded as she made her way off the bed.

Just as she stood and stretched minimally with her back to me, I leaned up onto my knees and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She spun around and looked at me curiously, wondering what I needed. Her face started to show signs of concern as I hesitated.

I wanted...no I needed to show her that I feel the same, but I didn't know how. I didn't know what I could do to show her that. I didn't like being vulnerable, and my position in this family was about as vulnerable as you can get without being an invalid...which I'm damn close to if you ask me. Her face grew more concerned as I continued warring with myself as to what my actions should be.

"Do you need me to get you a pen and paper?" she asked.

Did I? Was this something I wanted to put into writing? Was this something I could put into writing? No...definitely not. I shook my head to tell her that I didn't want the paper. Damn paper...only I could be so messed up that I couldn't just freaking say something to end this debacle and put everyone at ease. My face must have shown my struggle because she sighed.

"Bella, I don't..." I cut her off effectively as I launched myself at her, and wrapped my arms around her neck, burying my face in her hair.

I must have taken her offguard because she gasped, but quickly recovered. She wrapped her arms around me fiercly and I let out a giant whoosh of breath that I had been holding in hopes that this gesture would be okay. She squeezed me just a little tighter as I felt her sob just twice. In return, I tightened my hold on her as well.

For a second I started to feel overwhelmingly guilty for making her cry yet again as I thought I felt another sob rack through her body. Only this one was different. It was accompanied with sound, and it sounded remarkably like a chuckle.

I pulled back gently to look at her face, and was shocked when I saw that she was not only soaking wet from tears, but adorned with the most brilliant smile I had ever seen upon her face. She let out another brief chuckle as she carefully pushed a lock of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear.

"Bella, you have no idea how happy you just made me."

She smiled that breathtaking smile once again, and I smiled in return and nodded. Showing her that yes, yes I did know how happy I just made her. And for once, the guilt of how much pain I had caused her...couldn't touch me.

AN: I hope you all enjoyed chapter two...now it's your turn to read and review! God my lines are cheesy! HAHAHA