Chapter 7: Simon
Warning: There's a lot of sour to go with the sweet in this chapter. Hopefully, the sweet is what lingers.
Disclaimer: These beautiful creations belong to Stephenie Meyer. Only the story line belongs to me.
"You don't know why they had to go this far
traded your worth for these scars
for your only company.
Don't believe the lies that they've told to you.
Not one word was true. You're alright"
-Simon, Lifehouse
In March, Bella's nightmares became worse, as they had last year. March marked the anniversary of Charlie Swan's death.
The night before the anniversary of the day Charlie was killed Edward didn't even bother trying to sleep. He waited until Jasper's breathing evened out before carefully slipping out of bed and out of his room. In the hallway, he listened carefully, but the light underneath James' door was off and he could hear his foster father's occasional snore.
Erring on the side of caution, he tiptoed to Bella's door and knocked lightly. A moment later he heard her muffled, "Come in."
She was sitting on her bed, listlessly kicking her feet against the side. She didn't look up when he entered. Edward closed the door behind him and went to sit beside her.
When he didn't say anything she asked, "What do you want?" her voice slightly flat but not unkind. She still hadn't looked at him.
"I didn't think that you'd have an easy time sleeping tonight," he said quietly.
She glanced up, ready to deny it so he would get some sleep, but then she saw the look on his face. His eyes were full of tenderness and concern. She looked back down again, biting her lip to keep her tears at bay. She finally nodded slightly. "If I sleep now, I'll have nightmares," she conceded.
She glanced up at him again, attempting a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "You should go to sleep, though. It's a school night."
Edward rolled his eyes and proffered her one of the earbuds of his headphones. They had a brief conversation with their eyes - hers telling him he should be in bed and his staring back with a look that clearly said, unlikely, Bella - before she relented and popped the earbud in her ear.
He spent the next hour or so dissecting the drummers of a number of metal bands he enjoyed. She knew he chose metal when he needed something that could drown out every other thought in his head; it was hard, fast and complex, typically speaking, but Bella found herself lost in this separate world he heard in music. When she listened, as he spoke, she could hear the differing beats and actually understood the intricacies of way the musicians played. Even if she didn't always enjoy the harshness of the sounds, when he pointed out how all the pieces fit together she could appreciate it as art.
She was sufficiently distracted enough to fall asleep. Edward stayed a little longer, watching her peaceful face to make sure the nightmares didn't claim her.
The next day, at school, everyone was in on the distract Bella plan, even Emmett. The year previous, Bella had slipped into a depression that had clouded her mind for a good week after the anniversary of Charlie's death. Edward and Jasper had discussed it weeks ago and had gotten Alice and Emmett to help them. Whoever was nearest to the class she was in would walk her to the next one, making idle conversation and not really giving her time to retreat into herself. During lunch, Alice and Jasper were careful not to drift off into their own little word, as they so often did. Instead they kept the conversation going steadily. The vaguely irritated look on her face told them that Bella was well aware of what they were doing - but even her ire was better than depression.
Still, as the day wore on, every time Edward saw Bella she looked a little more withdrawn. At the end of the day she wasn't looking at anyone and she would space out when they tried to talk to her.
After school they piled into Jasper's car to go to the Cullen's, or so Bella thought. Edward saw her sigh slightly. He knew that she wanted to be alone, but she had agreed to go because she didn't want to worry the others.
When they missed the turn off to the Cullen's she didn't notice, even though she was staring out the window. Edward and Jasper exchanged a worried glance in the rear-view mirror. It was only when they had pulled into the cemetery that Bella turned away from the window with a confused expression. Edward tried not to grimace as he watched her face. He still wasn't sure this was a good idea, even though it had been him who had suggested it in the first place.
"What are we doing here?" Bella asked, sounding disoriented.
"You're introducing me to your father," Alice said from the front seat.
It was the perfect answer. Bella wouldn't argue with Alice, if only out of politeness.
"Do you know where he is?" Jasper asked softly.
Bella nodded tightly, obviously not trusting herself to speak. She pointed to a fork in the road at the left. They drove slowly up the aisle and then Bella pointed again. Jasper followed her directions until she whispered a, "Here," that he could barely hear.
Alice got out of the car first, opening Bella's door and pulling her out gently. She did not drop her hand as they all waited. Taking a trembling breath, Bella started forward. Edward could tell she was squeezing the shit out of Alice's hand, but Alice didn't complain or pull away. Finally, Bella stopped at a flat headstone. It was simple; made of a flecked, deep blue stone with a tranquil river etched on one side. The marker simply said Charles Swan ~ Beloved Father with his date of birth and date of death.
Bella knelt in front of his grave and started to tear at the weeds that were overgrowing, obscuring the stone somewhat. She was biting her lip hard. Alice sank down beside her, helping Bella wordlessly for a moment before she asked, "Will you tell me about him?"
She looked up at Alice with a struck expression, and Edward's heart nearly broke. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but nothing came out.
Edward started speaking almost before he knew what he was about to say. "When I was in my first foster home, and I'd gotten into my first fight, my foster parents called the police. They were pissed and they wanted to scare me. It was Charlie who came. He never treated me like a delinquent, or looked down at me or anything like that. In fact he was the only one who was nice to me about everything. He told me that he understood that I felt angry and abandoned." Edward smiled at the memory and at Bella. "You know, adults always try to tell you they understand when they don't...but him I believed."
"Yea," Bella whispered. She cleared her throat and looked back at him with watery eyes. "Charlie always said exactly what he meant. There was never a question of what he wanted."
Edward and Jasper heard the Unlike James that she didn't say aloud.
Surprisingly, Bella began talking, answering Alice's gentle questions. Edward longed to go to her and wrap her in his arms to soothe away her pain, but Jasper tugged on his jacket, gesturing that they should walk and give the girls a little privacy.
Reluctantly, Edward followed.
Cemeteries were fascinating to Edward. He did the math on the dates he passed, wondering about the lives cut long or short of the people beneath his feet and six feet of dirt. He wondered at what caused death too early on the graves whose dates were too short, like Charlie's. He rolled over the words Beloved Father and how those words told the story that Bella had been everything in his life, if that was how he was remembered.
"Someone will put 'Beloved Father' on his grave over my dead body," Jasper muttered darkly.
Alice came running up then and, because there was no one else around, she let herself brush right up against Jasper as she put something in his hand. "Buy a bouquet of flowers. The prettiest ones you can find, okay?" Jasper nodded and leaned down to kiss her as she stood up on her tip toes. Their kiss was brief and chaste, but sweet.
Edward tried not to feel jealous that, even though the cemetery was deserted, Jasper could kiss Alice outside, under the brief snippets of sunshine that peaked out between the clouds. He tried to shake off the envious feelings as he and Jasper set off toward the lobby near the front gates.
"You know, I don't even think I'd be able to find my mom's grave," Jasper mumbled distractedly.
"Maybe..." Edward began hesitantly, wanting to comfort his friend but not liking the words he was about to say, "Maybe you'll go to college closer to home."
Jasper shook his head as they walked. "I thought Alice might want to be closer to her family, but she and I discussed it. I'd rather be close to you and Bella."
"You and she discussed it," Edward repeated. His smile quirked, but Jasper could see the sadness in his eyes. They were a real couple, planning a future together...at least as far as what college they wanted to get into.
Knowing that Edward would likely brush him off as usual, Jasper almost didn't say what he was thinking. "You could have-" Edward's glare cut him off. Jasper sighed. "You can make it work, Edward. Alice and I-,"
"Jazz, dammit," Edward growled, frustrated. "It's not the same and you know it. Do you know what would happen if James found out about you and Alice? He'd give you hell about it, sure. But he can't touch her. He couldn't say a blessed word to her. Imagine that...if he found out that you cared about her the way you do he could use it against her, use that to make her cry, and you'd have to watch it happen. Because of you. Could you live with that?" Edward ran his hands through his hair, agitated now. "If it was just me, it'd be different."
"Okay," Jasper acquiesced, holding his hands up in surrender. "I get it. I do. I just...want you to be happy. That's all."
Edward gave a short, somewhat bitter laugh, but said nothing. They walked to the lobby of the cemetery and purchased a bouquet of flowers for Charlie's grave.
"Do you remember last week?" Jasper asked quietly, breaking the tense silence between them.
Edward didn't have to ask for clarification. Ever since Victoria had planted pills in Edward's drawer a couple of months previous, James had habitually torn apart both the boy's room and Bella's - emptying every drawer in the room onto the floor, looking for missing pill bottles. The search always proved fruitless - as Edward knew it would since it was Victoria taking the pills, and he would take his anger out on one or all of them. Last week it had been Jasper, but as James had raged, his words, designed shred at Jasper's mind as his fists bruised his body, did not have their typical effect. Jasper had taken the beating stoically, glaring at his father with hard, angry eyes even as James had berated him.
"I told Alice once that I didn't feel like a real man," Jasper continued, knowing Edward was on the same page. "She told me that I was wrong. And she told me why. It was her words in my head that gave me the strength to get through that without feeling … destroyed."
Edward said nothing, his mind going over scenarios.
Seeing the stubborn set of his friend's face, Jasper sighed. "You're over thinking it. You're both feeling what you feel regardless. Give in and let yourself say it out loud. There are so many things we have to hide. This doesn't have to be one of them – at least, not between you two. You can't stop him from tearing her down, but … if he's going to do it anyway, you can give her this additional strength. Words are a powerful thing, Edward. That goes both ways."
***
Months passed. Victoria was at the house more often than anyone else had been in the nearly five years that Jasper had lived with James. Edward and Jasper amused themselves by hypothesizing at what the draw was. She was so different from the others – wild and feral where they had been tame and docile. Jasper supposed that James already lorded over the three of them. Edward quipped that maybe Victoria dominated him. They both shuddered at the mental image.
In addition to the joy she always brought to their life, she often brought over her brother. Felix made them all nervous. He was huge – taller and broader than even Emmett. He was quieter than Victoria but the unadulterated malice that she spoke and walked with was present in his eyes.
And Edward hated the way he looked at Bella. He leered at her, his eyes raking over her small form in a way that made Edward furious. He never said anything, but Edward always felt like stepping between his eyes and Bella. He did, as frequently as possible.
As the months passed, Jasper's words continued to echo in Edward's brain. He found himself thinking, What's the worst that could possibly happen?
James already used the fact that the three teenagers cared for each other against them. He'd tried, more than once to pit the boys against each other, telling one that the other had snitched and other similar things to try and make them feel betrayed by the one relationship they had that they could trust. It had never worked, much to James' frustration. There was a reason that he never held back from hitting one of them in front of the others, and why he often waited to punish Bella when he knew they were in their room and could hear every strike of his belt.
Was there anything else he could do if he knew that Edward liked Bella more as a girlfriend than a sister?
The fact that Edward did not really want to find out the answer to that question kept his mouth closed.
It didn't make the jealousy any easier to deal with, though.
One day in early May, they were at the Cullen's house and he was watching Jasper and Alice out of the corner of his eye. They were throwing secret smiles at each other, like they did frequently at lunch, and he didn't miss that their hands brushed "accidentally" when they both reached for the ketchup at the same time.
Again.
"Edward, dear," Esme's voice interrupted Edward's envious thoughts. He cleared the jealousy from his face and turned to her. "Do you think you'd play for me?" she requested.
A few minutes later, Jasper and Alice had disappeared to some quiet corner of the house and Edward sat at the piano, his fingers on the keys. His fingers buzzed with a strange energy, holding a tune he could not quite make out. They wanted to play, to dance along the piano and string together notes that told a story of intense feelings he didn't know how to deal with, an ache he could not soothe and the beautiful girl who had no idea how beautiful she was in every conceivable way. He searched for the right song, but as his brain skipped through the musical library of songs he knew, none of them fit the story he wanted to tell.
Bella watched him from her position on the couch, her head tilted in concern as she watched his consternation. His hands moved while his brain jumped restlessly. They played a profusion of notes as complex and mesmerizing as the girl his eyes now beheld. Her eyes went wide. His were a mirror. Suddenly, he was playing everything he felt. The melody was at once tranquil and slightly melancholy - because she was his peace in their chaotic life, and yet he wanted more for her. His fingers played with the tender emotion that welled in him - caressing the keys rather than pounding them forcefully.
He smiled as the notes built, telling a tale of dreams, wishes and hopes - because he would take her away to another world and keep her safe forever if he only had the power.
But there was, as always, how this story ended. The melancholy strain that had followed the take throughout became louder and more insistent. While it was gentle, he had no choice but to let it claim the end of the song. It reminded him of holding her at night and how they could never escape the sleep that would force them apart - out of each other's arms until the next nightmare hit. The last note was exactly how he felt as he slipped out of her bed and out of her room.
It was a lullaby.
***
Edward was in unusually high spirits.
It was late June. School had let out for the summer and he was being driven home after a visit with his parents. He was damn close to happy.
First, James was not the driver of the car that now carried him back toward Forks. A few weeks ago, Esme and Carlisle had invited James over for dinner. It had been extremely uncomfortable, since Jasper, Edward and Bella had all hated the idea of having James' mere presence tainting the home that was their only refuge. The only upside to the horribly awkward evening had come when Carlisle told James about an extra shift he could pick up. Always eager for overtime, James had been displeased to remember that he had an obligation to take Edward to Seattle for his monthly visit the same day he would have been needed. All three teenagers had cast nervous glances at each other, knowing that James could take out his displeasure at losing the opportunity out on Edward when they got home.
Esme had spoken up then, offering to drive him. Because she often volunteered with the foster family agency, she had all the necessary background checks and finger printing she needed. It was three weeks later, and it was Esme who was driving him back from his visit, not James.
Second, where James, if he bothered to speak to Edward at all, was typically surly - making snide comments about Edward's parents and what a waste of his life this particular chore was - Esme had been sweet. She seemed to genuinely like Elizabeth Masen and had asked Edward gentle questions about his parents. Slowly, he had opened up to her, and their conversation on the drive home was surprisingly easy.
Third, Edward's mother had told Esme a story that made him both wistful and hopeful. It had made him smile and made him eager to get home to see Bella.
Fourth, it was Edward's birthday. Esme had surprised him as soon as he got in the car with a gift she said was from all of the Cullen's. It was a beautiful, leather-bound journal; with the left hand pages blank and the right hand pages filled with music bars. He had spent the drive up meticulously mapping out each note of the composition he'd composed in his head for Bella as Esme had made small talk, glancing at him with soft, motherly smiles.
The icing on the proverbial birthday cake was that James had planned on going straight from work to do something with Victoria - meaning the three of them would have the house to themselves.
His small smile fell ever so slightly when Esme rounded the corner onto his street.
Jasper's car wasn't there. James' wasn't either, but the fact Jasper wasn't where he said he was going to be always made Edward nervous. He murmured a good bye and a thank you to Esme and hurried to the door as fast as he could without giving away his anxiety to the woman in the car.
When he got inside, Edward immediately began looking around, trying to find anything out of place. A noise from the kitchen caught his attention. He walked over warily.
The kitchen was more of a mess than he was used to seeing it. There were bowls everywhere and...ingredients. Flour. Eggs. Sugar. And Bella stood with her back to him, humming happily to the music that must have been filtering in through her headphones. She was mixing something in a large, glass bowl.
He crossed the kitchen, curious as to what she was doing and why she was home alone.
He tapped on her shoulder as he walked up to her and she screamed, her hand knocking over a glass that sat on the counter as she raised her hands to her mouth. Edward snatched the glass out of the air before it could fall to the ground. Recovering quickly, Bella fumbled for her iPod, yanking the earbuds out of her ears. "You scared me!" she admonished.
He grinned in apology and gestured around them. "What are you doing?"
Her cheeks flamed a beautiful pinkish tint, and she ducked her head. "I'm baking you a cake."
"Why?" he asked automatically, though the answer was obvious.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Jasper took off with Alice since James isn't going to be home, and Carlisle is off in Seattle with Emmett looking for apartments. I thought that … maybe we could watch a movie, or something. And have some cake."
She bit her lip as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes, and Edward was momentarily stunned. She read his silence as dubiousness. "I mean, I know it's boring but-,"
"It's not boring," he said quickly. "It's great. Especially if it's with you."
She smiled a wide, but shy smile as she reached for the bowl again.
Everything happened as if in slow motion. Bella slipped, skidding forward a few inches on unsteady feet. She threw her arms up to balance herself out, simultaneously launching the mixing bowl into the air.
Edward could have caught the mixing bowl, but he couldn't catch it and Bella. His arms darted out, grabbing her and pulling her hard against him. They watched in horror as the bowl fell to the unforgiving kitchen floor, shattering before their eyes.
There was silence in the house for a few seconds as they both stared at the mess on the floor. Then Bella's hands dug painfully into his arms and he could feel her start trembling against him. "Oh, no," she groaned, so softly he thought he might have imagined it. She released her death grip on him and fell to her knees on the floor, picking up shards of glass. "I'll clean it up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said, frantic.
Edward quickly sank down beside her, grabbing her hands. "Bella, stop. You're going to cut yourself."
The glass she had collected clattered to the floor again and he could see her hands were shaking. "It was an accident," she told him.
"It's okay. We're going to clean it up, okay?" He tilted his head so he could catch her eyes. For a moment they didn't focus, dilated as they were in the panic that had come over her. He clasped her hands in his own carefully, making sure there were no remnants of glass that could cut her skin. "It's okay," he repeated softly.
She took an unsteady breath and then frowned, her lower lip pouting out adorably. "Oh, your cake! I'm sorry."
He laughed quietly. "It's okay, Bella. It's the thought that counts," he replied, smiling at her so she would know that he wasn't even remotely upset. He could see she was disappointed, but it wasn't the end of the world.
No sooner than he had gotten her to calm down and they'd started to clean the mess together then they heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It didn't sound like Jasper's clunker.
For a split second, Bella and Edward looked at each other. He could see the naked fear in her eyes return, stronger than before. Her breath started to come in quick, staccato pulls.
No, he thought, his mouth setting in a determined line. He wasn't going to let James make a liar out of him. He had told her that it would be okay - that she would be okay. This time, today, he would protect her. He grabbed her hand, clasping it tightly as he pulled her with him to her feet. "I need you to do something for me," he said urgently as he pulled her over to the hall closet. He opened the door. "Get in here, and stay quiet, okay?"
That snapped Bella out of her panic. "What? Edward, no," she protested, her arms coming up to his shoulders so she could try and push passed him.
With his hands on her arms he pushed her into the closet even as she struggled against him. "Bella, please. Please do this." He heard the car stop and knew they didn't have a lot of time. She continued to protest even as he backed her further into the closet. He closed the door on her just as the front door came open. Thankfully, Bella was smart enough to know to say silent.
Edward had skittered away from the closet door as James entered, Victoria trailing in after him. His sharp eyes honed in on Edward almost instantly. The easy smile he wore for Victoria turned into a scowl. "You're not out wherever your little girlfriend is?" James taunted, and for a split second Edward thought he was talking about Bella. Then he realized that he would have noticed that Jasper's car wasn't there.
"He and Bella went to pick up a few things," Edward answered vaguely.
James snickered at the fact Edward hadn't denied the girlfriend reference. Then his eyes seemed to narrow, looking him up and down. Edward's heart started to pound erratically and his stomach twisted. He knew there was cake batter splattered on his clothes. James strode forward quickly, shoving Edward to the side as he and Victoria entered the kitchen. Edward groaned softly to himself before following them in, knowing there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
James was surveying the chaos with a livid, dangerous expression. He turned, and Edward was chilled by the coldness of his glare.
"You. Little. Shit." James growled, advancing on Edward with narrowed eyes. As he stalked forward, Edward unconsciously backed up. He didn't even realize he was doing it until his back came in contact with the chairs at the kitchen table.
"I was cleaning it up. I didn't do it on purpose," Edward said quickly, knowing full well that his words were futile. His heart beat out a frantic rhythm in his chest. Fight. Run. Fight. Run. Neither was a viable option, he knew. He settled for holding his ground and trying not to cower.
"Do I look stupid to you?!" James shouted. Even if Edward had wanted to reply he couldn't. In the next instant James had shoved him, sending him flying back into the table. He caught most of the blow on his side before falling to the ground, bringing one of the chairs with him. He cursed under his breath, trying to push himself up but before he could, James kicked him viciously, sending him sprawling onto his back. Edward sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing the moan that threatened to escape. "You think I haven't noticed, asshole? Every time you go visit your parents lately you start acting out." He kicked the boy again in the side this time. "I'm not going to put up with this, do you get that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Edward shouted back between clenched teeth.
James leaned forward, so he was in Edward's face as he lay on the floor, breathing hard. "Playing stupid, just like your mother."
Edward's eyes flashed up to meet his foster-father's ice cold glare. His own eyes narrowed, not understanding what James was getting at, but very sure that he didn't want James even thinking about his mother, let alone talking about her. The ever-present anger that tainted most of his existence roiled like a snake hissing. He heard a snicker and his eyes darted over to where Victoria stood, smirking smugly as she watched. The snake inside of him tensed to spring.
"Felix went to school with your mother and father, you know," James continued and Edward looked back at him. "He said that your mother was a vapid little whore who played stupid so she could fuck around with half the boys in school." James chuffed, his lips quirking into a sneer as he leaned in closer. "He said your mother gave great head," he taunted.
With an animalistic cry that was all fury and hate, Edward launched himself off the ground before he could think his actions through. James stood but was thrown off balance as Edward barreled into him. He stumbled backward into the counter, hissing as the granite dug into his back. Edward's fist connected with James' face. James' head snapped back. Victoria gasped. Edward froze. James straightened his head back up, his hand immediately going to his nose. He brought his hand away, looking at the blood that stained his fingers incredulously.
Wide-eyed, Edward started to back away from his foster father. His stomach rolled and his heart was in his throat, beating painfully fast. James looked from the blood on his fingers over to Edward. He scoffed first. Then he laughed maniacally, making the sound somehow sinister. He took a slow step in Edward's direction, his eyes narrowing to slits. Edward took another step backward, flexing his aching knuckles. The fury that still bubbled in him, like angry lava rumbling and ready to erupt, wanted nothing more than to strike again, because the sight of James' head snapping back with the force of his fist had felt good. Too good. He was disgusted with himself. But more than that, he was fucking terrified because he had no doubt that James would make him pay for the blood he'd drawn tenfold.
James was still stalking toward him. Edward had run out of room, his back hitting the kitchen counter. Then James struck.
A punch to his solar plexus drove all the air from Edward's lungs, making him gasp and causing the contents of his stomach to churn sickeningly. James shoved him hard to the side, knocking him into the opposite counter. Edward's knees buckled as he flew forward and he crumbled to the ground, landing amidst the mess of glass and cake mix. The pain of the jagged glass scratching his arm was nothing to the burning in his chest. He pulled in air in ragged gasps, shaking his head to clear the spots that blurred his vision.
"Get up!" James demanded, looming over him with clenched fists. When Edward did not immediately comply, James kicked him again. "You think you're tough? Get. Up." Edward tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he had pushed himself into a sitting position, James kicked him again, hitting his ribs. Automatically, Edward recoiled, already having already suffered too many blows to his side to stay still. He curled inward slightly, moving his legs closer to his chest. As he did, he felt another shard of glass digging into his leg, right above his knee. He let out a strangled cry as the glass cut further into his skin with James' next strike.
"Look Vic, I think the baby's going to cry," James said cruelly, leaning over Edward and kicking him again. "Get up! You think you can take me then prove it."
Several times James commanded Edward to stand and face him, and each time when Edward would try to get up, James would kick him back to the ground. Edward was breathing hard, frustrated, angry and unable to do anything about it. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes but he was determined not to give James the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
It was hard, but Edward stayed mostly silent under James' assault. He thought about Bella, knowing she was trapped in the closet, listening to everything and probably crying enough for the both of them. He didn't want her to come flying out to try and protect him like she had with Jasper before Christmas.
As he continued to kick him viciously, James berated him as a coward, and baby, a wuss. Edward withstood that easily, but when James turned his verbal battering toward his mother, something in Edward snapped. His fury was overridden by a thick despair that clouded his thoughts. James berated his mother as a whore again and Edward knew he couldn't shut him up. At least, at the very least, when it was Jasper or Bella that James was attacking he could comfort them afterward; tell them James was an asshole and tell them jokes until they smiled again. It wasn't rational, but it was how Edward gave meaning to the hell that was his life. His mother not being physically there for him to defend made him miss her all the more.
That was that line of thinking that Edward tried to avoid at all cost. He hid the side of him that was a 16 year old boy who desperately missed his mother's tender voice and her consistent love.
And, it was that line of thinking that finally broke him. With his head curled against his arm he started to weep, and once he started he couldn't stop.
Mercifully, his tears seemed to satisfy James. His foster-father snickered, calling him pathetic, and gave him one last, hard kick to his injured leg before walking away with Victoria.
Edward hardly noticed that they weren't there, except that he realized James wasn't hurting him anymore. As the haze that had settled around him lifted, he became more aware of the particular pains in his body. Avoiding the glass littered around him as best he could, he pushed himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the radiating discomfort in his torso and his side as he moved. A sharp, stabbing sensation made him remember the shard of glass digging painfully into his leg. He leaned against the counter, shutting his eyes tightly against the tears that continued to fall relentlessly. Moving stiffly, his hands found the shard of glass, yanked it out with a perfunctory, robotic motion, and pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stave the blood flow.
The chaotic, intense stream of emotions raged in him with the strength of the worst thunderstorm imaginable. Grief hit him like lightning - all white hot heat and a pain that stabbed his psyche like a tree being carved with electricity in a split second. The invisible weight on his chest was different from the deep ache James' shoe had produced, was no less physical - overwhelming him like a torrential downpour and making it hard to breathe or even see. Loathing rolled through him like black storm clouds - not just for James and Victoria, but for himself; for his own stupidity and weakness. He should not have let James provoke him like that. He should not have lost his temper. He should be able to stop crying.
He thought of Bella again - still stuck in the closet while James and Victoria moved elsewhere in the house. He knew she had heard everything. He knew that she was scared and it was partially his fault.
It was a very different kind of pain when it radiated from the inside out. Wounds of the body were explicable - touchable. The pain that quickly devoured everything else was not something he could see. It went deeper than bruised skin and bones. It made him writhe because he wanted it out of him with a desperation he couldn't have ever explained. It made it harder to breathe and think and quiet these fucking tears that wouldn't stop leaking from his eyes.
In his agitation, Edward didn't realize what he was doing until he had thrown his head back against the cabinet. The pain that radiated through his skull at the spot of impact briefly cut through the agonizing ache at his core. It felt so much better that he did it again - the seconds of respite he got feeling like the only thing that kept him from going out of his mind and out of his skin. He did it again, harder this time, welcoming the physical pain.
He almost didn't register Bella's voice crying out to him. "Edward, stop," she said urgently.
Sniffling pathetically, he opened his eyes to find her tear streaked face only inches from his. "Bella," he said, his voice raspy and small, "He'll catch you, you gotta-,"
"They left," Bella interrupted. She used her foot to clear the space beside him of glass and sat down carefully, her back against the cabinet. He hated being this broken in front of her and, paradoxically, it only made him cry harder. He leaned forward, laying his head on her shoulder as her arms wrapped around him. He wished he could hold her to him, but his hands were still against the wound on his leg.
It was a long time before both of their tears were quieted. Edward lifted his head from her shoulder, leaning his forehead against hers. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he wasn't. There was a strange sort of peace that filtered down on him then. His body ached terribly from the physical wounds but the storm inside him had quieted. His tears, once Bella had been there to hold him as he had held her so many times, had been cathartic. The ever-present invisible weight on his chest was there but, for once, it felt bearable.
"I'm sorry," she said, stroking his cheek, drying the wetness there.
He crinkled his eyebrows, confused. "What in the fuck could you possibly have to be sorry for?"
Her sad eyes searched his. "I wish I could be braver, like you. If I hadn't freaked out-," she started, but he interrupted.
"Stop," he commanded softly. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know? You're very brave." He reached out and stroked her cheek tentatively, with the back of his hand so he wouldn't get blood on her beautiful face. Bella sucked in a breath, trying not to feel as affected as she was. He sniffled, and smiled. "You always have been."
She furrowed her eyebrows, confused at the nostalgic and tender look on his face. She held up one finger, telling him to wait and then darted up stairs. She came back only a minute or so later with clean towels, bandages and a bottle of peroxide. Edward tried not to groan. Bella looked at him apologetically as she wet one of the towels with warm water and knelt at his side again.
Bella pulled his arm toward her, carefully, inspecting the scrapes there. They weren't very deep but his arm was streaked with the blood that had run from the three or four minor cuts. She bit her lip as she started to clean the blood off his arm. He remembered belatedly that blood made Bella vaguely ill and hurried to distract her. "You were always braver than I am, Bella."
She gave him a disbelieving look as her small fingers worked over his skin. He gave her a small smile. "When we were in second grade, I remember that we were out on the playground. There were about three third graders gathered around you. I remember I wanted to go over, but I was scared because they were all bigger than me. But then I saw you stand up on your tip toes and get right in their faces to tell them they weren't nice." He tittered a little at the memory.
Bella looked up again from her work. When she saw the look in his eyes her heart stuttered. Even bloodshot and raw from his tears, the adoration in his eyes was unmistakable. She sucked in a deep breath, not understanding the depth of the emotion she saw amidst the stunning green. He had always looked on her with tenderness and affection, but Bella had assumed that it was similar to the way Jasper looked at her - like a little sister who he wanted to protect. Occasionally, she thought she saw something more, but one or both of them would always look away before the moment got too intense.
The odd, confusing and yet tingling tension was broken only slightly when Bella started to clean the cuts on his arm with peroxide. "Sorry," she mumbled as he hissed at the burning sensation. She pursed her lips, blowing softly on the stinging cuts, and he was soothed.
The look in his eyes was both soft and conflicted. The tension between them was almost a physical thing, and Bella had to stand, confused as to what she wanted. She wanted to take care of him, but she also wanted to do other things that she shouldn't be thinking about now. She busied herself instead with wetting two more clean towels with warm water. She moved his bloody hands away from his wound, pressing the towel there firmly. She returned one of his hands to hold the towel in place, but brought the other closer to her as she sat beside him again.
"What else do you remember about me? About before?" Bella asked quietly, cleaning each of his fingers one by one and hoping to distract both of them from the strange tension in the room. She liked the thought that she might have been a fearless child. Then again, she mused inwardly, when she was a child, she hadn't had any concept that there was anything in the world to fear. Her father was a police officer. She thought he would always be around to protect her.
"Do you remember your first kiss?" he questioned quietly.
Bella's head shot up. "What are you talking about? I've never kissed anyone."
He looked down; strangely shy and somewhat entranced by the way she held his hand in one of hers while the other wiped the blood away. "You were four. It was my fifth birthday party, and you were invited. Everyone was playing tag and I think Tyler Crowley ran into me too hard. I fell down and I was crying. You came up to me and you kissed me right on the lips and you said 'all better'! I was so surprised that I stopped crying instantly."
"You remember?" she asked, blushing and wishing she could remember too.
"Well...no," he admitted. "My mom just told that story a lot. She still does...actually." He stopped her hand's ministrations by wrapping his fingers around hers. He heard her breath catch and she looked up at him slowly, her expression uncertain but warm, her eyes deep with whatever emotion was crackling the air between them. "She told Esme about it today," he finished.
They stared at each other for long moments, hearts beating too quickly and eyes searching for something neither of them could quite figure out. Then, suddenly, Bella leaned forward and pressed a quick, childlike smack against his lips. "All better," she murmured as she backed away.
He released her hand so he could reach out and cup her cheek, stopping her from backing away completely. She froze, her eyes darting to his lips and to his eyes and back again. "I'll remember that one," he promised, more to fill the silence as he warred with himself.
But she had given him a taste, and now he was hungry. The split second their lips had touched had sent a thrill through him he had never known before.
He was so tired of trying to stay away from her.
For once, he gave into his desire and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers softly. She made a small noise at the back of her throat; half surprised and half elation. Then her lips responded to his, kissing him back firmly but sweetly. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers along her scalp adding to the sensation of his touch.
Their kiss broke after only a moment, each looking at the other with a hint of incredulity. Edward's mouth quirked, up and down, as if he wasn't sure he should allow himself to feel so good...but he was flying. He leaned in again just as she tilted her head up to meet his.
Their kiss this time was more heated. His hand tightened in her hair - not painfully at all - but pulling her closer to him. She went more than willingly, sitting up on her knees and putting her hands on either side of his face. She leaned into their kiss, her slight body against his.
Edward moaned against her mouth, but it wasn't with pleasure. With a gasp, Bella let go of him and tried to back away, but he held her close with his hand still on the back of her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not looking at him.
She tried to get up again but he held her fast. Bella looked up tentatively, but found Edward smiling. "I'm not."
***
Jasper got home and stopped short when he walked into his and Edward's bedroom. Edward was sitting on his bed, strange little titters coming out of him. He would giggle for a few moments and then wince, hissing as if he was in pain, but then he would just start cackling all over again. "Dude," Jasper said, and Edward looked over at him with a strange gleam in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
At that Edward started cracking up again and Jasper began to worry about his friend's sanity.
"I'm fine," he said between titters. Edward knew Jasper was worried and he tried to calm down. He wasn't sure how to explain the gamut of emotions that were each trying to one up the other for his primary attention. He was caught in a cycle of thought. First there was the pain. His body throbbed with each beat of his heart, spreading agony as it did blood. The constant pain and the toxins released by the dead or damaged capillaries that created bruises sapped at his strength and energy. He felt exhausted.
He thought about how, after Bella had helped him upstairs and helped him clean and bandage the gash above his knee, she had lain down with him in his bed. He thought about how she had stroked his hair and ran her fingers over his face. Occasionally, their lips would come together for tentative, shy kisses. He had fallen asleep with her lips against his. He felt peace and an intense sensation for her that he didn't quite know what to call.
He'd woken only an hour or so later, cursing James and his shoes and his stupid mind games. He'd wanted nothing more than to keep kissing Bella - all day and all night long if he could help it. He felt frustration and tumultuous anger.
Then it would sink into him that he had, in fact, kissed Bella. The girl that had preoccupied his thoughts since he was in elementary school and had figured out that not only did girls not have cooties, but it was fun to pull her soft brown ponytail and watch her get all huffy. The girl he'd eyed as his friends had playground girlfriends, and then, in Junior High, proper girlfriends. The girl he'd whose kiss he wanted more than almost anything else in the world until she'd wound up under this roof, and he'd realized he'd give up any hope of kissing her if it meant he could keep her safe.
When he thought about how it had felt to kiss Bella, his emotions were all over the map. Fear and trepidation, yes, but, mostly, it made him feel giddy. That's when the laughing would start - because he could not contain this elated feeling in him. Then he would remember that, even though James had bruised his body and broke his resolve not to cry, he had one upped him that night. He'd kept Bella safe. He felt proud.
Then the giggling would spike the pain in his chest and he would wince or moan, and the cycle would start all over again.
Edward took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "I punched James in the face," he said, and then instantly started laughing again because it sounded impossible to him, even though he had lived it.
Jasper's eyes went wide. "What?!"
"I punched your father because he called my mother a whore," Edward said, calming again.
There was another pause as Jasper tried to read Edward's face. "Are you being serious right now?" he finally asked.
Wordlessly, Edward undid the buttons of loose fitting, long sleeved shirt he'd changed into after coming upstairs. He knew the peculiar grin on his face did not match his words. If Jasper had told him that he had punched his father, the first thing out of his mouth would have been How are you alive? With no small amount of effort and wincing, he shrugged the shirt off so Jasper could see the extent of James' wrath.
"Jesus!" Jasper exclaimed, hissing in sympathy. The contusions on Edward's body ran up his side and across his chest mostly. They were black or deep purple where the toe of James' shoe had struck him. "How can you breathe with that?"
"S'not fun," Edward admitted. He gave Jasper a small smile. "I made him bleed," he added, unsure of whether he should feel so pleased at that fact.
"Looks like he returned the favor." Jasper motioned to Edward's bandaged arm.
Edward rolled his eyes. "It was glass. Bella," he couldn't help smiling when he said her name, "was baking me a cake. She slipped, the bowl broke," he gave a shrug that was no more than a twitch of his shoulders and pointed at his leg. "This cut could probably use stitches but...whatever." They both knew he wouldn't get it.
"And Bella?" Jasper asked, worried.
This time Edward smiled a genuine smile. "I pushed her in the closet before he came in. She's fine. He thought she was with you." His smile grew wider and he looked up at his foster brother. "I kissed her. Well," he amended, "She kissed me first."
For the second time that night, Jasper looked at his brother in total shock. "What?!"
As Edward relayed the story of what had happened that day, he renewed his promise to himself that he would not let fear make him give up what he wanted to have with Bella. He had decided that James had taken enough away from all of them, and he didn't need to add to that. He remembered the look in Bella's eyes after he'd kissed her - the way they'd lit up.
He had never been able to keep her completely safe - but he could make her happy. He could give her, and himself, that much.
A/N: ::peeking out from behind fingers:: More sweet than sour? Yes? Maybe?
Couple of notes. First, this fic and my other fic, Alice's Jasper, Edward's Bella, have been nominated/validated in the Indie Fic Awards…which just…boggles my mind. For serious. I know who nominated Alice's Jasper, Edward's Bella, but I have no clue who nominated this little tale. Whoever did…and to all of you who have been so supportive, thank you. Really. I've said before that this is a very personal story to me and downright torturous to write at times, but it's been an overall positive experience so far.
Second, to my girls, CellaCullen, DizzyGrl28 and JadedandBoring for holding my hand and letting me cry on their shoulder when I need to. And for awesome editing skills. I love you. Frealz.
Lastly, we're still on track for 3 more chapters and an epilogue…. This is totally dependant on Bella. I know a lot of you have been anxious about her chapters, so you should know…we're there.
Yea, I'm a little scared too.
Okay, a lot scared.
Let me hear from you.
