A/N: The timeframes got a bit mixed up for me. My bad. So in previous flashbacks, when it said eleven years ago, it should have said twelve years ago. Also, Edward should have been twenty-five in the flashback from chapter seven.
Let's talk ages, some of which I've mentioned and some I haven't. I need to keep myself straight and some of you are curious.
Esme and Carlisle are sixty. Emmett and Jasper are thirty-nine, Alice and Edward are thirty-six. Rosalie is thirty-five. Aiden, Emmett's son with Angela, is twenty-two. Brent and Bryce, his twins with Heidi, are twenty. Bella is twenty. April, Emmett's girl with Jessica, is twelve. Give or take some months here and there. Forgive me.
~Eleven Years Ago - January~
Xavier Kieren Cullen was born on January third, having held on long enough past his Christmas due date to make his poor mother believe she'd be pregnant forever.
"I see how you are," Kate said, tilting her head against Edward's as they both looked down on the baby. "You're one of those people who don't want to have a Christmas birthday, aren't you, little man?"
Edward put his finger in his son's palm, watching in awe as his mini digits curled. "He'll be almost a year old on his first Christmas."
Kate grinned at him with a gleam in her eyes. "Good. We have almost a year to plan."
He chuckled and kissed her and then kissed his son, dreaming of the years and Christmases to come.
~June~
Almost every parent panicked the first time their baby got sick. High fevers and congestion were tantamount to a national emergency complete with an ER visit. Despite assurances from everyone that Xavier was fine, Edward and Kate were sure he wasn't.
They were the exception to the rule. Xavier wasn't fine.
Even though the slim possibility that something was very wrong was what drove Edward and Kate to take their son to the emergency room in the first place, Edward still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Words slipped in. Awful, frightening words. But Edward didn't let the concepts gel in his head. His son was sick. He'd known it coming in. But this sick? Stuffy nose, coughing, and chest congestion he could handle. He could help his son through that. The things the doctor was talking about were so far out of his hands, it was as though Edward's brain couldn't process the words. He shut down. He couldn't breathe or think.
His son wasn't just sick. He was dying.
Beside him, Kate swallowed thickly. She was squeezing his hands so hard, he would have cried out if he had any voice left at all. "Okay," she said, the word coming out strained. "So how do we fight this?"
The doctor looked at her with compassion. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cullen. There's no fighting this."
She stood up, letting go of Edward's hand, so she could lean forward on the desk. "What do you mean there's no fighting this? Of course we're going to fight this. That's my baby. You can't tell me we can't fight. I don't care what it is. There has to be something."
"I'm-"
"Don't tell me you're sorry. My baby doesn't need sorry. He needs you to help him. You have to help him."
Edward finally got his body to move again. He stood and reached for her arm. "Kate," he said, turning her toward him. He caught her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks because he didn't have the words. "Katie."
She looked at him, the fury in her eyes draining to fear and agony. "He's my baby." Her lower lip crumpled, and she fell forward into his arms as she sobbed. "Our baby, our baby."
Xavier wasn't even six months old.
~Now - Early June~
Edward had a mind for dates. He remembered around which date the most important events of his life happened. His first kiss happened on April Fool's day. He and Alice got lost for three hours in Yosemite National Park on July fourteenth. He met Kate in September.
Every year, January marked the beginning of his memories with his son. June marked the beginning of the end. June was when every moment became measured and precious; when he'd begun counting Xavier's smiles and trying to memorize every inch of his son's face. Every year, those memories played over and over.
It was early in the month. Eleven years ago today, Edward was a tired but happy father. Eleven years ago he came home every night and he, and Xavier had some tummy time. The baby's grip was strong when Edward pulled him into a sitting position and he held onto his father's fingers.
Today, Edward came home from work to a quiet, neat house. He sat in the living room, trying to remember exactly where Xavier's blanket had lain and how he looked upon it, grinning and trying to stuff his foot in his mouth. He tried to recall the blissful ignorance to the fact that even then, his son's tiny body had held a time bomb.
There had never been any hope for him. It wasn't genetics or something missed by the doctors or his parents. It was luck of the draw-as simple and meaningless as that.
A knock at the door brought Edward's head up. He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember exactly where he was, or rather, when he was. What was going on now? His thoughts were lethargic, but he got to his feet and went to the door where he his brother stood on his stoop. He had to swallow a groan. They'd both been calling off and on since their mother's birthday a few days before.
He considered only briefly slamming the door in Emmett's face. It had been a long time since Emmett had bothered him, and he'd been very good to Bella that weekend. With a grunt, he stepped back, allowing his brother inside.
Emmett almost vibrated with contained mirth. Edward gestured with his hand that he should talk.
Emmett laughed. "Bro," he said, shaking his head. "This is a plot twist I didn't see coming."
"In case you were wondering why I haven't answered my phone." Edward pointed at his brother.
"Come on. Everything else aside, you have to see how funny this is."
Edward crossed his arms over his chest. "Explain which part of this is funny, Emmett. You think it's hilarious that Bella is twenty years old? This is her first semester of college; you want to know why? Well, it beats the hell out of me, because she won't tell me what happened to her before I happened to her. She's terrified, and sometimes I think it's me she's most scared of. That's just her. Maybe I'm missing the hilarious part here."
Emmett bowed his head, shaking it. "You know what, Edward? I'm not going to do this with you. I think ten and a half years is enough time to put up with your pissy bullshit."
"This is what you came here for?"
"No. I came here to see what I could do for you."
"Well, let me tell you. This is just a stellar work."
Emmett huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you expect? It's been over a decade and all of us have tried everything to get you back in the world. No one knows how to deal with you. Maybe yelling at you will work. Who the hell knows. But you're going to be a daddy. You-"
"In case you were wondering, forgetting the fact I'm already a father isn't helping."
"Jesus Christ. Edward, no one's forgotten Xavier. No one's going to forget him. This whole situation you have going on with Bella is probably a lot horrible, but it's also a little bit funny. That's what life is-horrible with a side of funny. Just like it was funny Jess and I were so fucking careful, but we got pregnant anyway. Three separate accidents. The first two, I mean I was a horny teenager. It overwrote my brain function. But a third accident when I both knew better and we were on two forms of protection? That's hilarious. Traumatizing but funny."
Edward was gnashing his teeth, looking anywhere but his brother, so he was startled when Emmett grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're right here, you asshole. Living. Life goes on. It's funny and it's stupid and it sucks and it's amazing. It's here, and you're going to have another kid. Little brother, I'm scared for you. I'm scared what this is going to do to you. But I'm also going to laugh at the fact my boys were totally checking out your baby momma, I mean come on. It is at least a little hilarious that she could have been their prom date just a few years ago. That's some Springer-worthy shit right there."
"Let go of me." Edward yanked out of his brother's grip, but he only went as far as the armchair.
Emmett sat down across from him. "So Bella-girl is pretty," he said after a long minute.
Edward grunted because he couldn't argue with that. "All of the boys?" he asked.
"Yep."
"I'm pretty sure Brent's boyfriend might have questions about that."
"Hey, man. Looking isn't off limits."
~0~
It was strange. Edward often thought of what his life would have been like if Xavier had been allowed to grow up. In his daydreams, he often pictured his ten-year-old boy here in the living room, doing his homework under his parents' watchful eyes.
The sight that greeted him in this reality was somewhat disconcerting. Textbooks and notebooks were spread all over his coffee table, but rather than his son, it was Bella sitting on his living room floor, head bent over her notes. Emily's boyfriend and his loud, over-grown, football-player friends had taken over their tiny dorm room, and Edward had managed to convince Bella it was fine for her to study at his place.
For a few seconds, he watched her, marvelling again at her ability to keep moving forward. In the last couple of weeks, she had finished three major papers and a project. Edward had dropped the one class he was taking for fun. Granted he, for the most part, had been keeping up at work, but progressing in any aspect of his life? Not so much.
Bella blew out a sharp breath and put down the packed she'd been studying. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, her coloring gone sallow. Edward's lips twitched downward and he went into the room. "Feeling sick?"
"Uh huh."
"Would you like water? Crackers? Ginger tea?"
"Oh god. I need you to stop talking about things that I can eat or drink because the thought of swallowing is making me sicker."
"Sorry." Edward sat down on the couch near her.
"Hasn't been bad lately." She tilted her head back, resting it on the couch, but she didn't open her eyes. "Give it a minute, and it'll pass."
He waited with her, and after minutes of measured breaths, the tension in her body eased a bit. She kept her eyes closed, but she moved her hand to the back of her neck, digging the pad of her thumb into her skin.
Edward didn't think before he moved. He scooted over, gently batting Bella's hand away, and began to knead the knots at her neck. His fingers faltered when she sucked in a breath, but she only tilted her head, allowing him better access. He was always glad when she let him do small favors for her, especially this kind. The idea that he was slowly earning her trust soothed at least one of the thousands of hurts he carried.
Slowly, Bella's eyes came open, but she wasn't looking at anything. "What are you thinking?" he asked to fill the silence.
She frowned. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. "Do you know anything about government-assisted health insurance?"
Edward's fingers paused. He'd expected her to say Freshman Composition or Statistics. He brushed her hair off one shoulder and pressed his fingertips into the muscles there. "I thought you were on your mother's insurance."
"I am."
"But?"
She'd begun to wring her hands in her lap. "She'll get the itemized bill." She gave a laugh, the sound small and forced. "It's probably a non-issue. Renee has a habit of not opening her mail for months."
Edward stayed quiet as he processed that, massaging a while longer. Finally, he let his fingers rest briefly at the crook of her arm. "Come up here."
Bella pushed herself up onto the couch facing him, but she wasn't looking at him.
"I'm just trying to understand," he said. "You wanted to tell my family right away because you didn't think there was a point in putting it off, but you don't seem to want to tell your own. I can understand your father to an extent." She was going home to Washington for the summer in a week and two days. "You might as well talk to him face to face, but why don't you want your mother to know?"
She shrugged. "I don't want my father to know either, but he'd probably figure it out when I get all..." She made a ballooning gesture. She finally looked up at him, though furtively. "It's not what you're probably thinking. I mean, if you think I'm afraid of them or something like that, I'm not."
"Okay," he said, shifting on the couch so his knee touched hers.
"They can't really say much, right? My mom was seventeen when she got pregnant with me." She reached out, pressing the tip of one finger against one of his, then the next, then the next in an idle game as she put together her thoughts. "Anyway. It's just that they think I'm an idiot. Mike, um…" She always struggled when she talked about him. "Mike was older than me. Adult older."
A thick knot formed in Edward's throat. She said she'd been in therapy for two years, which meant she'd met Mike before that. "As old as me?" he asked, keeping his tone even.
She shook her head "Six years."
Edward had to fight to keep the reaction from his face. She was watching him, likely waiting for her judgment. He was judging hard but not her. Mike definitely because he'd had no business going near her, but what did that mean for him?
"I was sixteen," she said after a moment's silence.
"Jesus Christ," Edward murmured under his breath.
"That's the age of consent in Washington," Bella continued, her tone flat. "There wasn't much they could do about it except tell me I was stupid. They kept telling me it was going to end badly."
He saw the shudder that passed through her and wondered, not for the first time, if she was going to run into her ex when she was in Forks. Suddenly, he needed to know. "Bella?"
She looked up at him, her eyes so lost she almost looked childlike.
"Where is Mike?"
The color drained from her cheeks and she shifted, angling her body away from him, curling inward. It was a long minute before she answered and even then her voice was small. "Jail."
Edward closed his eyes and counted to ten before he trusted himself to speak again. "For what?"
The energy in the room shifted from one of heavy, slow dread to one of frenetic motion. Bella turned back to him and, to his shock, pulled her shirt off. He was about to ask what the hell was going on when she lifted her arm, pointing to a spot on her side. "This was a chest tube. They shoved a tube through here to reinflate my lungs."
At first, Edward couldn't process all of what he was seeing. He had the urge to look away to protect her modesty but also because he wasn't sure he wanted to know the terrible details.
The spot she was pointing at was a cylindrical scar, but it wasn't the only one she had. Here and there were smaller scars. She turned to show a smaller, neater scar on her other side. "Collapsed lung. Other internal injuries. My leg was broken in three places."
"Bella," he whispered.
She pulled her shirt back on and folded her arms around herself. "I was laying there, gasping for air, and he was telling me to tell the paramedics that I fell. Over and over again, that's all he said. 'You're so clumsy. I didn't even push you that hard. You tripped, baby. Tell them you fell down the stairs.'"
Her voice trembled, and when she looked at him again, her eyes were so remote it chilled him to the bone. "That's what it took for me to figure out he was an asshole." She swallowed hard. "So I guess you can see my parents' point."
Careful but desperate to comfort her, Edward scooted back to her side and put his arm around her. When she didn't resist, he drew her close. "You're not an idiot."
"I know. Two years of therapy...I know why it happened, and I know it wasn't my fault." She said the words by rote, and he wondered how often she'd had to tell herself that.
He wondered if she actually believed it. Truth wasn't the same as belief.
"And I don't want you to think my parents blamed me," Bella said. "They never said that. It was just written between the lines of what they said; that if I had listened to them, if I hadn't made such stupid decisions in the first place, maybe I wouldn't be...like this."
She took a shaky breath and wound her arms around him, curling closer. "This whole thing with us, it's such a mess. You're not Mike. You're nothing like Mike, but I can't figure out the right words to make this all sound...not messy. This is better than what was happening with Mike, but it's also-"
He stroked her hair once gently. "It's also worse, in a way," he said, finishing the sentence she'd stopped herself from saying.
Mike had obviously been an asshole, but when she got free, there was nothing left over to tie her to him.
Seconds ticked on into minutes as he tried for the millionth time to sort it all out in his head. He didn't know what to do for her, or what to say to make it all right. All he could do was keep on holding her, because he could offer her that much comfort. He ran his fingers up and down her arm idly.
"Edward?" she asked after a few minutes.
"Hmm?"
She yawned, and Edward noticed suddenly that she was leaning harder against his side. "We're going to your parents on Saturday still, right?"
His hand froze mid stroke. "What?"
"Your mom said to come to dinner."
Edward was torn between his concern for her-her words were slurred and her eyelids were drooping-and a growing discomfort at what she was saying. "Did she?"
"Yeah." Another yawn. "Dinner Saturday. She said she asked you."
Technically, she had. Whenever they spoke or saw each other, Esme always asked to see him the next weekend.
"Does she really like me?" Bella asked in that far away tone that told him she was probably already one foot in the land of dreams.
"I told you she would," he said, looking down on her as her head finally went limp against his shoulder. She'd been so exhausted lately.
She had also been used by his loving mother. Edward hadn't told Carlisle much when his father cornered him after he and Bella dropped the news about the baby. One of the few things he had told his father was the best thing anyone could do for him was to treat Bella well. Naturally, he couldn't refuse a visit if she wanted to see them.
Tricky mother.
After a few minutes, Edward stroked Bella's cheek, calling her name.
"I'm sorry," Bella mumbled, dragging heavy lids open. "I should go."
"You don't have to. Just wake up enough to come upstairs. You can have my bed."
"Shouldn't."
"It's okay, Bella. I'll be fine on the couch."
She made a disgruntled noise, but when he took her hands to pull her to her feet, she sagged against him automatically. "I'm so tired."
Despite her protests, when they got to his bedroom, she fell on his bed and went straight to sleep again.
For a few minutes, Edward allowed himself to look, trying to process everything she'd told him tonight. He had so many more questions now and more worries too. He had the absurd desire to ask her not to go home for the summer, like he didn't trust her father with her well being.
Edward snorted to himself. As though he knew what the hell he was doing.
With a sigh, Edward knelt at her side by the bed and began to untie her shoes. To his dismay, her brows furrowed, and she began to whimper though she didn't wake up.
Tender words came to him without real thought of what he was saying. "Bella," he said, stroking her knee. "Hey, it's okay. Baby, I'm trying to take care of you. Shhh."
"Please," she whispered, curling herself into a tighter ball on the bed. "Please don't hurt me."
Edward took his hands off her in an instant.
Her ragged breath calmed, and it took only a minute before she was sleeping peacefully again, leaving Edward to look on her and wonder just how many ways a heart could break.
A/N: Many thanks to Packy 2.0, barburella, and songster.
How are you, my friends?
