Welcome back! I'm so excited to be finally moving on. Writing mojo has been very elusive-stress seems to scare it away-but I've managed to snag it for a while. I hate that it took so long to get this chapter out. It's a little short, but the next chapter is with beta now and should be up this week! And it's longer.

If you guys ever have any questions or want to know about upcoming chapters, please feel free to "pester" me on twitter at LwE17. But don't be mean. I've been in customer service for ten years, and I don't tolerate mean very well. You've been warned ;)

Big thank yous and hugs to my beta extraordinaire Chloe Cougar.

I hope you enjoy.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and it's characters. I own a candle with the Cullen Crest on it. No copyright infringement intended.

BPOV

There is something about Emmett Cullen—I'm not sure what it is—that drives me to mess with him. I don't know if it's the sound of his voice or maybe the way he talks to his brother. Perhaps my eagerness to tease and torture him is indicative of the kind of relationship we once had. He probably used to tease and torture me,a and my subconscious mind recognizes the threat and is trying to head it off before he can assert himself as the dominant teaser. He seems the type of person who could be relentless with his taunts. Whatever it is that's leading this drive caused me to go all 'mama bird' on him to try to protect Edward from what looked like was going to be an attack.

I really didn't mean to scare him so badly, but my control slipped a bit and allowed my behavior to get a little out of hand. I blame the nearly eight pints of human blood that are now reigniting the beast inside of me. It's pretty much the vampire equivalent to a person being on a sugar rush.

I do feel bad for frightening Emmett as badly as I have, though, and maybe throwing him across the kitchen was a bit much. Humans tend to be very fragile—physically and emotionally—when it comes to traumatic events, so I'm going to have to remember to be gentler with him. My idea of teasing and his idea of teasing are most likely two very different things. I make a point not to make Emmett think that I'm going to hurt him again. Not seriously, anyway.

I also want to smack myself for scaring Edward…again. I've done nothing but cause him stress today. I know that he is happy that I'm here, but since having seen me this morning, he has experienced one jolting incident after another. He's going to need a good meal and decent night's sleep. I should probably also make sure he drinks something other than beer.

With that thought in mind, I go to a cabinet in the kitchen while Edward leads Emmett back to the living room. I search the cabinets until I find two clean glasses. As I reach for the tap I notice that the sink already contains two large glasses. I frown when I smell the left over residue that coats the insides. How much alcohol does Edward drink? My mind races over possible scenarios of him laid out drunk in any number of dangerous settings. All the ways in which he could possibly jeopardize himself are far too many to count, which makes me not very keen on the idea that my boyfriend may have become an alcoholic after my 'death'.

Boyfriend? Is Edward my boyfriend?

The term far too easily slides through my mind. I only just met him. Well, I guess that's not true, but certainly calling him my boyfriend is very forward and a bit out of my comfort zone. Trying to come to terms with that fact that I even have a boyfriend—or should I say fiancé?—has been the hardest thing for me to deal with about today's events.

Oh my god, is Edward my fiancé?!

Five years ago I agreed to marry him. That definitely tops the list of things that I cannot even begin to deal with right now. I need to stop thinking about it. Maybe I need to remove a title altogether from Edward. From now he can be…my…human. Yes, that works. Edward is my human—my painfully sexy, beautiful, perfectly chiseled human. That I can deal with.

After swiping my hand across my face to try to help clear my head I fill the two clean glasses with water and bring them to my human and his brother, who are now seated on the couch. Emmett jumps at my appearance—I must have moved too quickly—nervously accepting the glass. Edward takes his glass with a relieved sigh.

"What's wrong?" I immediately ask him.

Edward averts his gaze from me to his water glass and answers me shyly. "I just didn't see where you went. I thought…you were gone."

"I'm here," I say lamely. I don't know what else to say to him. It's very strange for me to have this man so emotionally attached to me when I can't remember the bond he said we shared. I want to; I really want to, but I can't just conjure up the feelings that he might expect me to have for him already. It seems that his sanity is very dependent on my presence in his life, which can really put a lot of pressure on someone with extremely limited memories. I don't want to lead Edward down a road of false hope, but I don't want to hurt him either.

Although, the fact that I don't want him hurt, that I'm led to protect him from danger, and that I'm considering his diet and sleep tell me that there is an instinctual part of me that wants to take care of him.

I haven't cared for anyone in the human race for as far back as I can remember. I don't like to purposely hurt people, but I do have a strong jealousy toward those I see every day living their lives, knowing who they are, and what their future can bring them. Trying to find pity for taking the life—the life I can't have—of every person I kill is very difficult for me to do. With that thought in mind I know that this need for Edward to be safe, happy, and healthy is something that either my mind or heart is recognizing. That alone gives me some comfort in this whole messed up situation.

Hell, I even instinctually got Emmett a glass of water. I must subconsciously care about him, too!

"Drink," I say to Edward as I sit down next to him. I glance at Emmett sitting on Edward's other side, holding his glass and staring at me with his mouth hanging open. I'm not so sure how well he is going to take any information that Edward will tell him. Emmett really doesn't seem stable enough right now to hear it; he seems quite vulnerable.

I narrow my eyes and point my finger at him. "Drink that," I say authoritatively.

Emmett's reaction is immediate. He brings the glass to his lips and quickly chugs half of the water before stopping with a gasp and trying to catch his breath.

I giggle at Emmett's actions, but then realize that the need to mess with him just over took me again, and I try to compose myself. Edward gives me a disapproving look.

"Sorry," I mumble.

Edward shakes his head slightly, but I can see him hiding a smirk on his face. Ah, so this must be normal.

He takes a few sips of his water before saying anything to his brother.

"Emmett?" he asks softly, trying to get his brother to look at him, but Emmett doesn't respond.

"Hey," Edward says louder, getting Emmett's attention. "Are you okay?"

Emmett looks at me again, staring for a few moments before looking back to Edward.

"I'm seeing a ghost in your apartment. I'm pretty sure that classifies me as not being okay," he answers. "There is a ghost in my brother's apartment." He states, obviously now talking to himself. "A fucking ghost brought me a glass of water. How is this shit happening?"

"She's not a ghost," Edward explains. "She's really here. Bella is here."

Emmett cocks his eyebrow at his brother, looking at him as if he is crazy. He then gives me an appraising look.

"Dude, that's not Bella," he states as if it's obvious.

Edward looks over at me then back at his brother. "What are you talking about? Of course it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Dude. No." Emmett argues with an eerie calm.

"It is her!" Edward exclaims, becoming annoyed.

"Calm down." I encourage Edward. "He's in shock. It happened to you, too."

"Emmett, it really is her. I'll tell you—"

"It's not Bella!" Emmett yells, interrupting, and Edward jumps at the outburst. "Bella is dead! I can't explain this," he continues, gesturing at me. "But it can't be her. You said you watched her get killed! We had a funeral! You were dead to the world for the better part of five years and you h ad numerous mental break downs. We almost lost you! And now you want to convince me that Bella is alive and well and s sitting here on your fucking couch?! That everything that happened and that you put us through was for nothing?! She's dead, Edward! I don't know what kind of fucked up shenanigans you wanted me to come over for today, but I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

Emmett gets up off the couch and starts for the door. Edward doesn't even glance at him. I'm not sure he even realized Emmett got off the couch. With the look on Edward's face, it's obvious that Emmett's words cut him pretty deeply.

After hearing the door open, I get up to stop Emmett from leaving.

"Let him go." Edward stops me as we both hear Emmett leave while slamming the door.

"Are you crazy?" I ask him, questioning his judgment.

"He needs to calm down before he'll even think about listening. He'll be back." Edward tries to reassure me.

"But what will he tell your family?! You can't let him leave like this. He needs to know that he can't tell them anything," I argue.

"What's he going to tell them? That I'm harboring a Bella ghost in my apartment and I used it to taunt him? That would make him look like the crazy one, and since the role of 'crazy person' in my family is reserved for me...," he explains, trailing off.

"You really think he'll keep his mouth shut?" I ask, needing to be sure.

"I can guarantee it. He has no way of explaining you that wouldn't make him sound stupid or crazy. He wouldn't risk his pride like that."

As much as I don't want to, I decide to trust Edward. What I really want to do is hunt Emmett down, drag him back here, and not let him leave before he hears Edward's story and I'm comfortable with his acceptance of it. As I'm considering numerous different plans to get Emmett to listen, I notice that Edward also seems to be thinking something through. He has his face scrunched up and his eyes occasionally dart from one side to the other.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask him curiously as I sit back down.

He looks at me for a moment before answering. "Just about something Emmett said."

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't offer up any more information. I think back through Emmett's tirade and try to decide what it was he said that would make Edward shut down a little.

"Is what he said bothering you?" I ask, hedging for an explanation.

"Yes," he answers simply.

"What part?"

Edward looks away from me with his eyes narrowing and his throat contracting stiffly, trying to hold back his emotions. He's either not a sharer or he is still practicing the good secret keeping that he has been utilizing for the past five years.

"You know, if you tell me, I could help you through it," I offer gently.

He sighs in defeat and slumps his shoulders, relaxing his posture. His eyes look to mine and they are so unguarded, showing me pain and remorse. He takes a stuttered breath before speaking to me.

"It was all for nothing," he says lowly. "Everything I've been through since you were taken from me was all for nothing."

"How so? What do you mean?"

"I was crazy, literally crazy," he explains. "I saw countless therapists, got kicked out of college, attempted suicide multiple times and only failed because someone either caught me or figured out my plans; I wasn't very creative. I spent time in an institution, and when I was home I was babysat around the clock by my family. I ruined everything for them. Alice wanted to go to college in California, but she picked a local community college instead so that she could live at home to help watch me. Emmett wasn't even gone for a year before he dropped out of school altogether. Now he works at his father-in-law's car repair shop while taking part-time online courses to try to get his degree. Mom and Dad had plans of traveling after we all graduated. They planned a whole European vacation for that summer. They put a hefty deposit on it, which they lost. They wanted to do so many more things that I held them back from."

"None of that is your fault. You went through a traumatic experience—"

"It is my fault!" he interrupts me. "I've been through traumatic experiences before and was strong enough to pull through it."

His statement intrigues me. What kind of trauma could he have been through?

"But with you…" he continues. "I couldn't survive what happened with you. You were my everything. You anchored me to the ground. I wish you remembered, because then you'd understand what I mean.

"If I had just known you were alive, I would have fared much better than I did. I couldn't live in a world that you didn't. I would have never tried to end my life if I'd known that you were out there somewhere. If I'd just had the hope of being able to see you again I could have pushed past the worst of my demons. I wouldn't have hurt my family as much as I did. Their lives would have been so much better—more fulfilling. I stole all of their options from them. All their pain was for nothing." His voice cracks on the last word and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting a tear run from the inside corner of his eye. The pain he's been through today is finally crashing down on him.

My reaction to seeing him in this state is surprising to myself, but immediate. I reach for his face and cup it with both my hands and wipe the tear away with my thumb, remembering that I must be very gentle with him. He looks a bit embarrassed at himself, but I don't mention it.

"I know there's nothing I can say to change the past, but I'm here now." I try to encourage him.

"You can't leave me again. I couldn't handle it. You have to stay with me," he feebly pleads with me. He's so close to losing it, but in reality he probably needs to let himself have the breakdown that has been looming all day.

"I'm staying," I say as I take the glass of water from his hands and place it on the floor. "I promise I won't leave you. All that bad stuff is over and your life doesn't have to be about nothing. You're going to find yourself again, and you're going to help me find myself. We're going to do it together." The words so easily flow out of my mouth, but I don't know why I say these things to him. I desperately want him to feel better; I want all the pain that my so-c-ccalled death caused him to go away. What I'm promising to him is going to put a big responsibility on me, and I really don't know what I can really offer him with me being a blood-s-sucking demon of the night and all, but something inside of me tells me that I want to take care of him. I'm convinced that part of me recognizes Edward and knows what I'm supposed to feel for him. I just wish I could remember so that I could feel it for myself.

Hearing my words, Edward lets a small sob escape, so I pull in a deep breath and hold it while I take him into my arms to provide some comfort. Clinging to me, he finally allows himself to let loose all that he has been holding inside today.

One might assume that holding onto a grown man while he cries would be an awkward experience. Surprisingly, I don't feel that way at all in this moment. I soothingly run my hands over Edward's back and whisper soft assurances in his ear. His grip tightens around me when he hears them.

After a few minutes I feel that Edward is uncomfortable as he starts to fidget slightly, trying to correct his posture, so I easily turn him around and place his back against me, leaning him comfortably against my body. I rest my chin on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his middle as his tears start to slow. It only takes him a few more minutes to fall asleep. Reliving everything that he's been trying to forget has exhausted him.

I revel in the feeling of Edward's body draped against mine. I think back to times that I have been able to enjoy soaking in the heat of the sun or the hot water of a shower. The heat from both of those things is very enjoyable to my kind, but this, albeit similar with the warmth, is very different. Edward's body hums with the life that it possesses. I can feel his body circulating its blood through every one of his limbs and the slow rhythm of his lungs taking and releasing air. I c can feel both warmth and energy, and somehow it's very soothing to me; it almost makes me feel alive.

Not wanting him to wake up with neck or back pain, I eventually pull Edward from the couch and carry him to his bed. I lay him down before moving to his feet to remove his sneakers. Sleeping with shoes on can't be too comfortable.

I look over him one last time before leaving him to his slumber, and I see something that I was too distracted by his pretty face to see before. His left wrist is lined with a few scars—not the typical horizontal lines of a cutter, but the long vertical slices one uses to try to cut open a vein. I pick up his wrist to examine it closer. One of the scars has tiny indents on either side as if it has been stitched back together. I wonder how close Edward has come to death with his intent to bleed out. I also wonder who had the misfortune of finding him before he lost too much blood. Then I think about my beautiful human lying in a pool of blood with more of the sweet, red fluid flowing from a cut on his wrist. The different levels on which the image appeals to me are vastly inappropriate. I most likely shouldn't tell him about it.

Shaking my daydream from my thoughts, I watch Edward sleep for a few minutes while thinking about where we are possibly going to go from here and all that I promised him. I meant every word as I was saying them, but I would be lying if I said that it doesn't scare me. I'm not sure if I even know how to do all that I promised him. I'm hoping that it will come naturally to me because, according to him, I had already taken care of him before. The part of me that knows what to do has to still be here; I need it to still be here.

There was never a time that I wished to have my human memories more than right now!

Frustration is now becoming more paramount inside of me and I need a distraction to subdue it.

I leave Edward's bedroom and wander around the apartment, looking at the mess of the unpacked clutter that is still strewn about. Boxes are stacked in corners of every room and there is absolutely no order to the placement of his limited furniture, not to mention the plastic still covering the love seat. The only thing that seems organized is the TV mounted above the fireplace, and an entertainment console complete with DVD player, stereo, and two Xboxes. Who needs two Xboxes? Isn't one enough? Boys.

Seeing the sordid disarray I figure out something I can do to help take care of Edward. It may be a bit intrusive, but I hope he won't mind. It'll at least keep me busy until he wakes up.