January

I got a call from Edward's lawyer towards the end of January to set up the next interview. I obviously didn't really know what to expect, now that I'd agreed to his ridiculous request. I still had no idea why I'd even agreed. It was ludacris. I was supposed to be running the show.

"He said to come later today, around 3. We've made some special arrangements," he said.

"Special arrangements?" I asked.

"They'll show you when you get there."

I swallowed hard as he hung up. Special arrangements? What the hell did that mean?

I arrived at the prison extra early just because I was so anxious. They did the normal things, patted me down, and checked my ID. I started shuffling towards the regular room, but the guard shook her head and led me down another hallway. Different.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I don't know what kind of people you know, Miss. But this is unheard of," she said, not really answering my question.

We passed through a doorway and into a cage of some sort, surrounded by prison bars. As soon as the door behind us shut, the one in front of us opened and we stepped into along corridor. My fingers trembled as we started down the never-ending row of cells. There were soft murmurs and a few cat calls as we passed by the prisoners, but I tried not to look at them. I chanced a glance once and was met by a very rude gesture so I tried to just look at my feet the rest of the way.

I didn't even realize that the guard had stopped and I ran directly into her.

"Miss Swan," she said.

"Sorry." I cleared my throat and looked up. We'd stopped at one of the cells at the end. There was a chair outside, sitting relatively close to the bars, but far enough away to put some space between.

"No physical touching," she said. "I'll be right down the hall there." She nodded to the side.

"I'm sorry, physical touching?"

"Bic," Edward said. I turned to the side and saw him staring right at me, through the bars of his cell. He gripped the bars with his fingers and rested his forehead on the metal.

I couldn't help but focus on his fingers. They were right there. If I really wanted to, despite the guard's warning, I could reach out and touch him. We were that close.

My chest silently heaved up and down as I contemplated our situation. I had no idea how he pulled this, but it was a completely different experience.

I nodded to the guard and sat down in the chair provided for me. She glanced at Edward before shuffling down the hallway. She took her position at the end, still able to watch us, but out of an ear shot.

Another cat call echoed down the hall.

"Sorry about that," Edward said. He glanced up at me.

"How?" I whispered.

"I've got my ways." He smiled sadly and shifted his weight.

Even through the wretched smell of urine and human filth, I could finally smell him now. It seemed like such a little thing. How a man smelled. But it changed the experience of Edward. He smelled clean, unlike his comrades, almost with a hint of spearmint like my favorite gum.

"Do I smell bad?" He asked with a small laugh.

I realized I was leaning in close to him, making a strange face. I didn't mean it in a bad way. I was just surprised.

"No, I…" I started.

He smiled and stepped back from the bars, pulling his shirt off as he went. My eyes widened as I took in the various tattoos across his back and arms. He turned and pulled on another shirt before sitting down on his bed.

"So what do you think?" He asked.

"About what?"

"About my place?" He gestured around. I took in the small cell that he called home and noticed several things. I saw a picture of who I assumed to be the Cullen family. I recognized Alice and her mother standing with a handsome man in front of their house.

There were also several sketches plastered up onto the walls, all drawn in pencil. I glanced back at Edward and noticed the smudged lead stains on his hands.

"You drew these?" I asked. I got up from my chair and stepped closer, careful not to touch him. No physical contact.

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"I had…no idea you were such a talented artist." I took in the rest of them, lingering inches from the bars. "They're beautiful."

"Thanks." He stood up and stepped closer to point at one close to the bars. "I always loved to sketch, but I never really started working on it seriously until I got to the community center." He noted the sketch of a building. "Spent most of my time there once I got here. Started volunteering there about six months before…" He trailed off.

My mind raced back to Tanya's murder. She was found at the community center. I shivered as my eyes flickered towards him. He was right there again. Close enough that I could almost feel his breath on my face. Something about him made me want to reach out and touch him, run my finger along the soft stubble on his jaw.

I shook my head. "Get a grip," I whispered.

"What?" Edward asked.

"Nothing." I cleared my throat and forced myself to step back. I sat down in the chair and crossed my arms.

He started pacing back and forth in front of me, rubbing his hands over his jaw right where I wanted to touch him.

"Edward, what do you want to accomplish?" I waved between us. "With this. What's in it for you?"

"You think something's in it for me?" He laughed darkly. "I'm sitting on death row. With nothing to do but wait until they stick that fucking needle in my arm." He pulled his chair close to mine, screeching it across the hard concrete. "I just want someone to listen."

"Okay," I shrugged. "So talk."

And he did.

The strangest thing began to happen. I started forgetting where I was. Who he was. I didn't see the prison guards or the handcuffs. A part of me was connecting with him, and I mean really connecting. He talked about his love for music, for Alice. God, he loved Alice. He talked about her like she was really his sister, someone he wanted to protect against anything and everything. It made me wonder how someone with that kind of love could ever have so much hate for another that they would take their life. It didn't make sense.

The sketches were his only way to escape this Hell he was living in. It was like his own mirror to outside world, but the sad part was that he could only escape to places he knew. He'd never…ever know anything other than this. Almost like he was stuck in Limbo. Unable to live and unable to die. It was like he was nothing at all and everything at the same time. Everything.


A/N: Huge turning point for them! Yay!

A few have asked how many chapters this will be. I believe I have through May and then an epilogue that I'm working on now. Also some of you are still scared to read this. I can't tell you that you won't cry at the end but I can tell you that I hope you will not be disappointed. That is all. Thanks!

p.s. last update for today, this busy bee has to actually go to work : ) Have a good one.