Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. That honor belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own a sweatshirt that says "Feel safe at night, Sleep with a SEAL," that I um, borrowed, from someone in college, and may have forgotten to return. I also don't own "Here Comes Goodbye", but I love Rascal Flatts.


Here comes goodbye, here comes the last time
Here comes the start of every sleepless night
The first of every tear I'm gonna cry
Here comes the pain,
Here comes me wishing things had never changed
That she was right here in my arms tonight,
But here comes goodbye

"Here Comes Goodbye"

Rascal Flatts

Bella

Death is a funny thing. Sometimes it's predictable, and you have weeks, months or sometimes years to plan. My mother died of breast cancer, after valiantly fighting it for five years. She had beaten it once and then it came back with a vengeance, and took her away from Emmett and me when I was in medical school. Carlisle Cullen was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, and even though he had less time, a little over six months, when he died, we weren't at all surprised. We were prepared. We knew it was coming. Esme and Edward were ready for it. Esme was content that her husband was no longer in pain, and Edward knew how much Carlisle had suffered and was relieved to see him go.

And then sometimes, death likes to surprise people. It's like the Grim Reaper gets bored and picks people to die. I hate when he does that. But then again, I've never been a fan of surprises.

November 1997

Arlington, Virginia

I was glad that I had remembered to bring an umbrella. It was cold and rainy. I'm glad I had decided to not wear heels, unlike my mother. She was sinking in the mud with every step she took.

We finally got to our seats. It if were a concert venue, I'd be impressed with the great seat we had, front row center. We sat in the middle, my mother flanked by myself and on one side and my brother, dressed in his VMI uniform, on the other.

I felt like Jackie O saying goodbye to JFK. I was in a black dress, with black stockings and black flats. I had a heavy, wool jacket on. I even had one of those little hats with the veil. My long brown hair was gathered into a low bun at the nape of my neck. My mother looked almost identical, except for the heels she was wearing that were covered in mud. She was next to me, clutching a tissue box in her hand. Any other time I'd be happy to be outdoors in the wide open spaces that I loved. But this time I wished to be somewhere, anywhere but here.

I watched as a group of men, all dressed in their fanciest uniform lined up to the side, watched as someone else gave an order and they shouldered their weapons. I jumped every time they fired.

BAM-My mother's tears got louder, she was blowing her nose, loudly, into one of the tissues from the box.

BAM-Seven simultaneous shots rang into the air.

BAM-The command to put their guns down was given. I watched as they marched away, their precise military marching struck me as beautiful.

Someone spoke; I'm no longer paying attention. I can't hear over the thunder rumbling overtop.

I watched as they handed my mother a flag, the Major stood handsomely in his uniform.

I realized we're done and I got up and bolted to the limo, not wanting to meet anyone else, not wanting to talk, I just want to go home and cry, cry by myself, in the privacy of my room.

I climbed into the waiting limo and threw my hat down on the seat. I waited for my mother and brother to return to the limo and watched as we pass by garden, after garden of stone, all perfectly aligned in little rows. I waved to JFK, knowing his flame is on my left. I watched as the green hills disappeared, and the traffic appears. I'm leaving this place. I waved good bye again, one last time, then turned around, pushed the crease out of my dress and attempted to sleep for the ride home.

That was the day I buried my Daddy.

I was seventeen years old, and a senior in high school.

Present Day

October 2011

Richmond, Virginia

It had been six weeks. Six impossibly long weeks.

I missed him.

I needed him.

I hadn't heard from him at all.

I was trying to ignore the fact that this was the longest Edward ever went without talking or communicating in any form with me.

I picked up extra shifts, worked doubles, triples if they let me. Spent almost every waking moment (and some sleepy ones) at the morgue. Anything to get my mind off the fact that I hadn't heard from him. Hadn't seen him.

I called Esme almost daily. She said she too hadn't heard from him. I believed her. She wouldn't lie to me.

Edward had always told me that communication was a privilege and sometimes I just had to trust that he was ok. Know that he would bring himself home ok. I just had a feeling that something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

"Dr. Swan," I heard the intercom crackle and the tinny voice of James, the morgue attendant, come through.

"Yeah," I replied. I was up to my armpits in intestines, literally. This was NOT a good time to interrupt.

"You have a visitor," James replied.

"I have a what?" I asked, not quite hearing the last word correctly. I thought he said I had a visitor.

"A visitor," he confirmed, this time a little clearer.

"Visitor?" I mumbled questionably to myself. No one ever came to visit me. Ever. Unless it was a police officer. And they usually came into the morgue…..I couldn't fathom who could be visiting.

"Send them to the waiting area. I'll be out in twenty," I couldn't just stop what I was doing. I was almost complete and needed to get this done before I could let the morgue attendant sew him back up.

Thirty minutes later, after taking off my apron and gloves and washing my hands I made my way to the small waiting area in the basement of the morgue.

"Dr. Swan?" I heard someone say. I turned around to come face to face with two men in white uniforms, a Navy Commander and a Chaplain. This was not good.

"Yes," I replied. "I'm Dr. Isabella Swan."

"Can we talk—"the Commander said, looking around the room, there were a few people milling about, "in private?"

"Sure," I replied. My voice came out small and shaky, I sound like a little girl, not a near thirty year old woman.

I led the way, down the hall to my small office and unlocked the door. I picked up a bunch of case files which were sitting on the rarely used guest chairs and placed them behind me on the floor.

This couldn't be good. There was a Navy Commander and a Chaplain. That only meant one thing.

Someone was hurt….or dead. I gripped my desk table and prepared for the worst.

February 2007

"Promise me, Bella," Emmett whispered into my ear, "don't let her work too hard."

"I promise, Emmy," I whispered back. My brother and Edward were leaving, again. They were going God knows where to do God knows what. We were in Yorktown, Rosie and I were saying good bye to our men, again, for the millionth time, or so it seemed.

Rosie was struggling with their son, Emmett Jr., or EJ, for short. He had just learned to walk and wanted to do it all the time. Rosie was holding him, or rather struggling to hold him. With her pregnant belly it was hard to do anything, much less hold a struggling 30 pound one year old. Yeah, did I mention EJ was built just like Emmett?

I hugged Emmett one more time and then moved onto Edward. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. I could feel his hands ghost near my ass.

"Watch those hands, Cullen. That's my sister," Emmett said. He said the same thing every time we kissed.

"I love you," he said, kissing me sweetly and squeezing me tightly.

"I love you too," I replied. "Come back safe. And bring him back too," I said thumbing towards my brother.

"I will," he replied. I kissed him one final time and then turned to Rosie. I carried EJ for her and she carried the abundance of stuff that comes along with kids as we walked away from the men that we loved.

The next day I returned to school. I had completed my internship and was focusing on my residency. I had made a deal with Edward that I would pursue something that would take less time if he got out of the military next year. I gave up my dream of being a thoracic surgeon—but then I discovered pathology which was almost as good. It was like doing surgery except there was no risk of killing the patient because they were already dead. It was great. I loved solving the mystery and helping prove or disprove cases.

But more importantly I feel like I ultimately made the right decision. Edward was due to get out of the military in seven months. After that, I would start planning the wedding, again.

That was the plan.

It had been a month. I'd heard from Edward intermittently throughout his 'mission'. An email here, a phone call there, sometimes a text. Always a letter.

"Hello," it was Rosie, probably calling to check in. She had an OB appointment today.

"B-Bells," she sounded like she was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's Emmett," she replied. And that's when I sat down.

"He's dead," she whispered it so quietly I almost didn't hear her faint voice on the other end.

"What? How?" I asked. I knew she wouldn't know the answers but I needed to know.

"I don't know," she replied.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, stay at home Rose, I'm on my way." I had to go to her. I promised my brother that I would take care of her. And I did. I was there, two weeks later when she gave birth to her second son, a little boy, Aaron McCarty.

I was there, three weeks later, when Emmett finally made it home.

He was dressed in white. You couldn't even tell he had been shot. They draped him in red, white and blue. He was buried in the same area as my parents, in Arlington National Cemetery.

I was sitting next to Rosalie. EJ was dressed in black and looked just like my brother, a younger, not quite walking, version of my brother. Aaron looked like Rose with his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was completely oblivious to what was going on; sound asleep in his car seat. He even slept through the 21 gun salute.

Every member of SEAL Team Six was in attendance. Edward held my hand the whole time; he didn't let me out of his site. Edward was there too. I cried for hours, days even. I cried on his crisp uniform jacket, his crisp white shirt, his crisp white pants. I cried on his bare chest wrapped in his arms.

I felt guilty for being happy that Edward was home, that I was cuddled in his arms.

I felt bad that EJ and Aaron had lost their Daddy. Rosalie had lost the love of her life. And that I still had mine.

"What happened with Em?" I asked him, several weeks later. I'd been working up the nerve to ask him.

"You know I can't tell you, Bella." He got out of his chair and grabbed his plate. I knew he probably couldn't but I knew I had to give it a try.

I didn't ask him about my brother again. That night, Edward got called into work. I sat in our bedroom and cried myself to sleep.

A week later Edward called me. I hadn't seen him since he'd been training at the base all week..

"Hey baby," he said when I answered the phone.

"Hey," I replied. I was so tired. My feet were aching from walking in high heels all day and my head hurt from the massive amount of scents I'd been exposed to.

"Just getting home?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Eating. I'm so hungry."

"Are you busy this weekend?" he asked. I so desperately wanted to see him, needed to see him. I missed him so much. I needed him.

"No," I replied pushing my heels off my feet while I was sitting at my kitchen table.

"Come to the base," he replied, "we'll stay in the BOQ, go shopping, whatever you want to do."

"That sounds fun," I said flexing my feet back and forth. They were so sore.

"There's an event that we need to go to on Saturday night, but it won't um—it won't take long."

"Will I need a dress?" I asked, I knew, I just knew he was going to say yes. I used to enjoy going to military functions, reveled in the dressing up, getting my hair done, being escorted by the best looking Navy officer in the fleet, but that was before I knew what it meant to give your heart to a Navy man. To never really know where he is, what he's doing or whether or not he's safe.

"Yes," he replied.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Promotion Ball," he replied.

"Why are we going to that?" I asked. "You're getting out. You're not getting promoted again."

"About that," he replied. And that's what I groaned. I knew I wasn't going to like this conversation.

Present Day

"Dr. Swan?" I heard the Commander's voice shake me from my flashback.

"I'm sorry, I was lost there for a minute," I said. My knuckles were white from clutching the edge of my desk.

"Maybe you should sit down," I heard the Chaplain say.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. I knew it was wrong to curse in front of a man of the cloth, but I couldn't help it. Neither the Commander or the Chaplain seemed to have noticed, and if they did, they didn't say anything.

I stood there a second longer, looking at the things that graced my wall. My diplomas and board certification. Pictures of Emmet and I with our parents, our college graduations, Edward and I are various functions, and my niece and nephews.. Everywhere I looked, there was Edward. Everywhere. I slowly sat into my seat and looked at my hand. I had worn my VMI miniature this morning, a ring that's an exact replica of Edward's college ring. I'm not sure what possessed me to put it on, but I did.

"Dr. Swan," I heard the Chaplain start again.

"Is he dead?" I interrupted. I didn't need someone to hold my hand, I just needed the truth.

"Commander Cullen?" the Commander in front of me replied, he stared back at me, apparently surprised by my bluntness.

"No, the Easter bunny," I answered sarcastically. Who the hell did he think that I was talking about? "Yes, Edward."

"No, he's not dead," the Commander replied.

"Then why are you here? You're the death team right? The lucky bastards that get to tell people their loved ones are dead?" I asked sarcastically. I tended to resort to sarcasm during stressful situations.

The Commander looked at the Chaplain, probably thinking they wanted to get the hell out of here, out of this room with this sarcastic, impatient woman, when the Chaplain spoke.

"That is part of our job, yes," the Chaplain replied. "We're also in charge of injury notification."

"He's hurt?" I asked. My heart was already in my throat. I couldn't stand the thought of Edward being injured somewhere.

"Yes," the Commander said. The small pain that I'd had in my chest turned into a crushing, overwhelming pain and I could barely breath, much less speak.

"Where is he?" I whispered

"Germany," the commander replied.

"What's injured?" I asked, but before he could answer, I had the overwhelming urge to vomit and before I could control myself, or my stomach, I vomited the entire contents, which happened to be M&M's and Mountain Dew, of my stomach into the trash can next to my desk.

I felt someone's hand on my back, and my hair being moved out of the way. I vomited a minute longer and saw someone, maybe the commander, offering me a bottle of water.

"You okay, Dr. Swan?" asked the chaplain, who I know realized was the one holding my hair back.

"I think….whew….that was bad. I've never had that reaction before. Not even when my brother died." I swished the water around in my mouth a few more times, trying to remove the taste of vomit. I hated throwing up.

"So he'll be home, when?" I asked.

"We're not sure yet. He hasn't been medically cleared to fly," the Commander replied.

I just looked at him for a minute. I still felt nauseous. My chest hurt. My head hurt. I was going to throw up again, I could feel it. I couldn't breathe. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Rid myself of the ripping pain I felt in my chest. But I knew it wouldn't work. My heart had just broken in my chest and nothing could repair it.

"What's injured?" I asked with my hands clutching my desk once again.

"He broke his legs, a few ribs; there is some damage to his neck, and face."

"Thank you," I whispered. I sat back down in my desk chair and thought about what I should do next.

I'd go to Germany. See him, help him recover. I would need time off; I had plenty of vacation time saved up, especially since I had cancelled my last vacation. I needed to get ahold of my boss.

"Can I visit him?" I asked.

"No," the Commander replied.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, because you and Commander Cullen aren't married, we can't authorize you to visit him."

"I'll pay for myself," I replied, looking between the two of them, pleading with them. I was hoping they would take mercy on me.

"I'm sorry," the Commander replied. "You'll have to wait for him to come home."

"We're engaged," I replied quickly. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the Tiffany's box I kept the engagement ring in and quickly slipped it on my finger. Edward refused to take it back the last time I broke it off with him. "I don't like to wear it when I'm in the autopsy room."

"We didn't know ma'am. You were just listed as a girlfriend. He didn't change your status before he left on his mission. We'll look into arrangements and let you know. If that's it, ma'am?" The Chaplain and the Commander stood up and walked out of my office. I sat there for a minute, quietly contemplating everything that I would need to do.

And then it hit me.

Esme.

The thought popped into my head before I had the ability to control it. I'd need to call her. Coordinate with her.

I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled to Esme's name in my contact list. After finding the number I wanted, I pushed call and waited for her to answer.

"Bella," I heard her say, she sounded out of breath, like she ran across the room to find her phone.

"Esme," I said into the phone. "Have they been there yet?" I asked at the same time she asked "did you talk to them yet?"

"Yes," we answered simultaneously.

"They didn't tell me much," I replied.

"He has two broken legs," Esme replied, "bilateral femur fractures. He's been in Germany for a month. He lost his dog tags. They couldn't initially identify him. I'm waiting to hear back about arrangements to get over there. I'll call you when I hear something more."

"Ok," I replied. Before I could continue, I had another sudden wave of nausea and emptied the rest of my mediocre lunch into the trash can. I wiped my mouth off and picked the phone back up. I had dropped it as I dashed for the trash can.

"Are you ok, dear?" Esme asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I think I have the stomach flu, I've been ill for a couple of days. But it comes and goes. Usually in the morn—" and then I paused. Because Bella the doctor just remembered that Bella the girlfriend had sex with her ex-boyfriend six weeks ago. And hadn't had a period since.

"What were you saying, Bella?" Esme asked me on the other end.

I felt my world spinning and again gripped my desk. I couldn't believe this. I was pregnant. I hadn't missed a period in years.

Oh. My. God.

Now what was I going to do.

"Here Comes Goodbye" is a follow-up to the song, "What Hurts the Most," both by Rascal Flatts.

Both can be found here: (just remove the brackets and add a dot).

"What Hurts the Most," http:/[youtu]be/7qH4qyi1-Ys

"Here Comes Goodbye," http:/[youtu]be/17VudJ6lr4k