Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, it's all Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: Just letting you know this a very short chapter, sorry about that, and it's from...Edward's POV. But not, because this is third person. I don't know what to call it. It's still his perspective, isn't it? :P I don't know, I'm just going to call it EPOV to save us all some confusion - either way, it's his side of things, because I felt I needed to put this in here so you understood things and what happened a little better.

Ohhh, and, this chapter sure does twist things around a bit. You'll probably see why soon. Anyway, I'm EXHAUSTED, so I have absolutely no witty puns, I'm just going to tell you to try and enjoy this craptastic chapter. xD That is one of the adjectives I use regularly, btw.

Oh, by the way, if anyone's read my other story, YGL!...the reason for my exhaustion are my niece and nephew. The real Terrible Twosome Twins. :P If you don't get that reference, shame on you.

Anyways, let's get back to the story, shall we? Some of you might throw pointy things for my last cliffhanger. :P


"Edward?"

He smiled the best he could, trying to make sense of the situation he was now in, trying to make sense of the time, the place, and the stupid noise he kept hearing; it was rather annoying, if not constant and a bit comforting through the confusion. He was trying to make sense of the constant beep, beep, beep that rang through the room at a certain rhythm, but couldn't find any, besides the fact it seemed to match the beat of his own heart. How odd.

However, the new noise, the gentle calling of his name in the air brought a smile to his lips, though he was greatly confused. One reason for this was the obvious fact he couldn't smile as wide as he liked to - it was as if there was some kind of pressure on his lips keeping him from doing so, something he could not comprehend. The second was who the beautiful voice belonged to.

Beep, beep, beep. The angel spoke again, and he was instantly comforted, though he tried his best to concentration on what he was saying, not the music her angel voice was against the constant beeping. "Edward, I shouldn't have done this to you. This shouldn't have happened. It was stupid, I took it too far," she whispered quietly, so quiet he had to strain to hear it. There was a ghost of a laugh, something hollow sounding - he strived to understand what was wrong with her, but couldn't place it. Why was this angel sad?

He tried to move his hand to find her face and comfort her, tried to open his eyes to see rather than hear her, but it wouldn't budge; instead, it brought him pain, and he groaned audibly. The angel sighed deeply, and he heard the noise it made when she shifted on the old hospital bed. "Are you in pain?"

He tried to nod, but it felt like he had no control over his body anymore. How odd. Was he under some kind of drug? Was there something wrong with him? What had happened to him that got him in this kind of position, and who was this girl who was speaking so kindly to him, so concerned?

"That was a pretty stupid question, huh?" the angel laughed, and he wished he could laugh along with her. She truly had a beautiful laugh, and he wished he could reach out and touch her, to comfort her. She shouldn't be afraid for him. After all, he would be absolutely fine, wouldn't he? All he needed to do was find out why he couldn't move, why he was so stiff, why there was a dull burning from the left side of his face…and what that stupid beeping noise was.

"You got beat up pretty bad. Lots of broken bones," the angel finally spoke again, trying to sound casual about it, but the sound of her voice made it obvious she was badly hurt. He had made her sad. He wanted to frown, and wondered for a moment if he had managed to do so - she paused for a moment, before touching her cool hand to his cheek. He let out a sigh of pleasure from the coolness of her hand - it didn't burn, but it was a pleasant, gentle feeling. He was frightened, though, by the croaking noise that came from his throat.

"I can't believe you swerved off the road." She sighed, and this time, it was more humorous than anything. Trying to comfort him, perhaps? Or maybe just trying to comfort herself, by the tone of her voice. This didn't make any sense, and he wished she could speak more than bits and pieces. He wished she'd put her hand back to his face, because the burning had become even worse than before. "Way to go, Mister Volvo Owner. Looks like my truck beats your new fancy car, after all." She was trying to lighten the mood for herself, but it apparently didn't work, because her voice cracked dramatically. She sounded like she was crying - no. How could something so beautiful cry, especially over him?

Car crash. It took him a moment, but it all came back. Time and place began to matter to him, and he wished desperately to get up. The girl he was talking to him…how did this make any sense? Why was she here? How had all of this happened?

He had to make sure he wasn't dreaming first. One thing at a time. He needed to learn how to open his mouth, and if this was really her, maybe he could even question her on the stupid beeping.

"Isa … Isa…" he croaked out the first syllables of her name. The word suddenly seemed like a mouthful for him. "Bella," he finished, trying to make sense of the hoarseness of his own voice. "Isa…bella."

The girl sighed, but seemed a bit pleased that he was speaking, or perhaps that he knew who she was now. "So you remember your murderer, huh?"

"I'm not…" he struggled to speak, his voice much less like a whisper, more like a rasp with the little strength he seemed to have, "dead."

Bella seemed to find this funny, for reasons he couldn't understand. She giggled quietly, and he wondered if she had nodded or not - the bed shifted, and she sighed again. "No, you're not. You're gonna be fine. You're pretty strong. Credit where credit is due."

That was his girl. This was how he remembered her. He needed to hang onto that if he was going to go back into sub consciousness soon, and he could feel it coming on, slipping on him and calling him back. He wasn't ready to go back. He had things to say to her. Credit where credit was due.

"Con…grats," he started, finally getting used to the rasp that was now his voice, the weak croaking that seemed to come from deep in his chest. How many meds was he on? Exactly how many was a 'a lot of broken bones'?

"For what?" she questioned quietly, obviously confused. He resisted the urge to sigh; not because he didn't want to, she deserved it at the moment, but just because he didn't want to waste his breath.

"Winning. Finally … beat me." Full sentences were too hard. He was obviously under some kind of strong drug, and every second he stayed awake, the hardest it was to fight, the worse the pain seemed to be. It was obviously telling him that he was killing himself, and he needed to go back to sleep, to recover, or something. How much did he need to recover from? He tried to remember his conversation with Carlisle earlier, but couldn't. He needed to focus, though. Focus on her. Focus on the angel's voice. "Congrats, Bella."

Her full name was much too hard to say in one breath. With a sudden intake of breath, he swore he heard her let out a sob, something he didn't understand. He was admitting defeat, why did this make her feel worse? Did she honestly think that he had swerved off the road because of her? It wasn't her fault, really, it was his. It was him who felt himself losing control of the wheel, who realized he might not be able to slam the breaks fast enough to save her - and his step siblings, too. It was his fault he jerked the steering wheel and landed himself in a hospital bed, not her's, right?

"Don't die. I realize you're strong, but you have to keep it up, okay?" The tone of her voice startled him, because now he was sure she was crying. Why was she crying for him? She was supposed to hate him. He had come to terms with that so long ago. Lovers on the stage, rivals elsewhere, right? What was she doing? Why was she making this harder? "Please! What the hell are you doing?" the barking of her tone startled him again. She needed to make up her mind.

"I don't know why I don't want you to die, but I don't, and you can't just die on me like this. It's … it's giving up!" she shouted, and he swore he heard the nurse in the background, telling her to calm down. He wanted to check and see if she was really crying, but found he still couldn't. Damn it. He needed to see, needed to see her, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "You're letting me win, Edward. You're letting me win. If you die, you're forfeiting. What are you doing? You always win, Edward. You always win," she growled, and he couldn't understand the tone of her voice, the desperation. What he did understand, however, was the always present resentment, and he could deal with that.

He always won. He strived to win. He couldn't let her down now, could he? He couldn't deal with her so weak and vulnerable now, sobbing at his side. She was so much stronger than this. He had to push her like he always did. He had to push both of them farther, he had to help her as he had always done over the years, in his own way. He couldn't help her exactly how he liked, so this way always worked.

The last conscious thought was, just you wait, Isabella. You're right, I always win. I promise to beat you again. With the last ounce of strength he had, he worked up a smirk, a bit of a signature for him. Crooked on one side, pulled up just a bit too much. He only hoped it was effective. He only hoped she saw it, that she understood. As long as he had any strength left, he would fight to keep himself alive.

For her. He didn't understand why though. As he slipped under, finally, almost sighing at the comfort it brought him, he wondered why this girl meant so much to him. He shouldn't care so much. He hated him, he shouldn't swerve off the road to save her, he shouldn't fight to stay alive with only her on his mind -

But it was the thought of her hair, soft and brown, always slightly tangled, her smile, bright and pure, her voice, soft and a bit shy all the time, but aggressive when she talked to him, and her lips, her cherry red lips moving against his that kept him fighting.

It might just be the drugs, but he had a suspicion that it wasn't. The gentle beeping in the background suddenly seemed like a far less important mystery.


A/N: This is a really short chapter, but it was supposed to be. :) By the way, guys, don't worry. He's not paralyzed, my friend/new editor and my brother both came to that conclusion. :P Nah. I would never do that to my Edward. Yes, this competitive!Edward is now my Edward.

Oh, and, uh, role reversal, much? Ohhh. Someone needed to make Eddie the vulnerable, hurt one. ;) That someone is me. Going where no author has gone before. I've seen "Bella gets in a car accident and Edward totally comes and saves her ass at the hospital" plots, guys. Well, here you go. I think this is what Eddie needs to realize things, that she is strong and he has to give her a chance at the glory, too. He needs to realize his own feelings, and so does she, so yeah, this was pretty important.

And for this who are calling Edward and "ass", read the fourth chapter, guys. ;) He's confused and doesn't know what to do or how to break out of a relationship he's been in for YEARS, and he's not even sure if he wants to.

Okay, guys, I need your criticism, etc.! Now more than ever. I'm asking for indepth here guys, nitty gritty. I'm probably asking for too much. :P The thing is, you guys are amazing, but I've been uncomfortable with what I've been posting lately, so if you want to give me, right down to it, what I'm doing right (what you liked), what I need to work on (what you didn't), you don't know how helpful that is.

"Update soon pleaaase, when are youz gonnaa updatez?"

Is not so helpful, but perfectly fine, too. xDDD

:) I love you all. Don't want to sound greedy, but you know me. As one of you so gracefully (coughcough, haha, yeah right coughcough) pointed out, "you need to get some self confidence, because everyone else sees this is wonderful, why can't you?"

I wish I knew. :P Ohhhh. And, one more thing.

You're all CULLENTASTIC. If you use that word, make sure to mention me. ;) My word. Myyy word. /growl

Spreadin' the love,

-Nicky