A/N: Hello all! Here's the new chapter! You guys were all worried about Edward doing something stupid. Well, let's see how he reacts to "Jacob-gate".

***Just a note about Bella's accident—they always say write what you know. Well, that accident came straight out of my memories.

It was my friend who flew off her bike, and the person who opened the door didn't do it on purpose. I had turned a corner and was waiting for her to catch up, but she wasn't coming, so I went back around the corner thinking, "What will I do if my friend is lying dead in the street."

Well, sure enough, there she is lying in the middle of a cobblestone street with our other friend hovering and the entire patronage of the little tavern she landed in front of, coming out to check on the commotion.

She was checked out by the fire department, and I really and truly did convince the police to give us a ride back home to our apartment in the back of the police van. It was awesome. And she ended up using frozen broccoli on her butt, not peas. TRUE STORY!***

Many thanks to BellaMadonna and LJSummers for prereading and beta'ing. You ladies rock! (Though LJ has admitted to rolling as well.)

Come Back To Me

Chapter 10

Edward hadn't run very far before he realized that it was one-thirty in the morning. The roads were darkened, save for the sparsely placed street lamps. He jogged down a trail to a nearby park, making a beeline for the chin-up bar. He pulled himself up, doing double the number of reps he usually did. When his arms were too weak to fight the pull of gravity against his body weight, he dropped to the ground. After exhausting his biceps, he moved to the slanted parallel bars and did more reverse incline sit-ups than he could count. While he drove his body to the brink of its physical limits, his mind and heart were also fighting to stay away from the edge of that unseen precipice where he'd finally scream, "I give up!"

Totally spent, he slumped down on a bench and rested his head in his hands. An overwhelming urge to punch something – anything really – surged through him. He'd never really had anger management issues, except when it came to Bella. Jealousy, and a borderline unhealthy sense of possession, came over him when he thought about other men befriending his wife. As he pondered why he would feel so irrational the idea of all those latent caveman urges and the biological desire to be the only one siring children with his mate came to mind. Even more frustrating than acknowledging that yes, he was at heart a primitive creature was the fact that he wouldn't be siring any children since the odds were against Bella conceiving from his efforts.

Unconsciously, his body slipped down the bench until he was lying with his knees bent and one arm behind his head. He closed his eyes and let his body relax, trying to do a little self-psychoanalysis. The latch flipped opened on that bulging mental closet of emotional garbage and he waded into the mess. He dug though his memories to the psych classes he'd taken in school. Was this jealousy some kind of Freudian issue? Probably not. As he sifted through theories and schools of thought, he slowly came to the realization that what it really came down to was fear.

He was afraid that he'd never be good enough, never successful enough, never just...enough. But had Bella ever given him the sense that she felt that way? No. She hadn't. In fact, she'd only ever encouraged him in his endeavors. Never once did she ever say anything about his worth as a person, a husband or a provider. This fear was all him.

Edward was so deeply entrenched in his personal counseling session that he didn't notice the police car patrolling the area. Nor did he hear the crunch of the gravel as the officer approached his bench. He was jerked back to reality when the bright beam of the officer's flashlight shone in his face. He sat up and shielded his eyes from the light and cocked his head to the side.

"Can I see some identification, sir?" The policeman wore a bored expression as he lowered the flashlight only slightly and held out his hand.

Edward stood and patted where his pockets usually were. Of course, he didn't have his wallet and in his haste he'd forgotten to pull out his driver's license like he usually did. All he had was his apartment key on a thin lanyard around his neck.

"I...uh...I left my wallet at home. I was just out for a run. I should probably be heading back now." Edward was stammering and shifting from foot to foot, setting the cop on edge.

"A run? At four in the morning? What's your name, son?"

Edward was shocked at how much time had passed. He just stood there mutely while the officer came a bit closer and looked in his eyes.

"Name?" The policeman barked.

"Uh. It's Edward, sir. Edward Cullen. I'm a doctor over at DHMC."

"You haven't been drinking, have you?" The officer demanded, trying to intimidate Edward.

"No, sir. I just had a fight with my wife. Needed to blow off some steam." The officer, who was probably close to Edward's father's age, motioned for him to step a bit closer.

"Have you blown off enough steam?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're not going to do anything violent, are you?"

Edward blinked and pulled back in surprise. "No, sir. I would never..."

"That's what they all say," the officer replied cutting Edward off in mid-sentence. "I just want to make sure that I'm not gonna get called out to a domestic disturbance in an hour and wind up face to face with you."

"No. My wife is out of town. We were on the phone." Edward grimaced at the very loose interpretation of how the phone call had gone.

The policeman nodded and placed his hand on Edward's shoulder. With a stern, but paternal gaze he said, "Go home and make up with your wife. Life's too short. And remember, the parks are closed after ten p.m."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be going directly home. Thank you."

Edward felt ragged – both inside and out – as he trudged home. As he expected, his phone had blown up with a ton of missed calls. There was even a message on the regular answering machine. He listened to the only message Bella had left on his cell phone. He wanted to laugh and scream out loud and ask her if she thought he was an idiot. He was pretty darn sure he heard the affectionate and much too sugary voice of Zha-cob, calling his wife chérie again. He couldn't have been in another room because he was trying to wake her up mere seconds after Edward had demanded to speak with his wife. Almost as if he'd just rolled over in bed and nudged her awake.

The paranoia and jealous, raging thoughts, were beating up his insides. He stalked into the kitchen and turned on the sink, bending over to slurp a quick drink directly from the tap. He then leaned heavily on the counter taking slow, deep breaths, trying to get a hold of these feelings that were spiraling out of control.

He began thinking more and more about some of the personal revelations he'd had in the park. One of the biggest motivators for a lot of his choices in life had been fear. But it wasn't just the fear of not being good enough for Bella. It seems like he'd always felt this way. Maybe it was a product of being the youngest in the family, always living in Emmett's and Alice's shadows? He realized that for as far back as he could remember, he had always felt the need to prove himself. To show that the things he did were just as important as what his siblings had accomplished

As they were growing up, he always got dragged to Emmett's games, and Alice's dance recitals, but when he was finally old enough to participate in those kinds of things, there was just never enough time. His Dad would always say, "Next year, son. We'll see about getting you on the T-ball team." But the "next years" always came and went, and he never got to play. It was only because he became the absolute, most annoying child on the planet that his Mother squeezed piano lessons into the busy weekly rotation for him.

Edward had finally found something he enjoyed and was good at, but when it came time for his recitals, Emmett would manage to weasel his way out of going, and though Alice usually came, she had headphones on during his entire performance. And while his Mom was always there for each one, his father's attendance was spotty at best. Edward never got the same kind of support that Emmett and Alice did.

Now he felt like a miserable, petulant child, wanting to stomp his foot and yell, "It's not fair!" No. Life never was fair but he didn't really feel like letting go of those hurt feelings just yet. He'd gotten the short end of the stick every time when it came to Emmett and Alice and he had every right to feel pissed off. But why did it also make him afraid? That was something his sleep deprived brain would need to shove back into the closet and re-examine later.

It was eye-opening to ponder so heavily on this one motivating emotion. The question he had now was, how to get over it? Certainly he needed to have some kind of conversation with his parents. Why did it always come down to "mommy" or "daddy" issues? How awkward would that be? Call up Mom and Dad and start griping about how their treatment of him as a child had turned him into a coward who was about to lose his wife to a Frenchman named Zha-cob.

Speaking of which, he was pretty sure the message on the answering machine was his wife, wanting to discuss something in regards to the tool who answered her phone at seven in the morning. With a heavy sigh, he pressed play and waited.

"Edward, it's me. Look, Jacob has a girlfriend. Her name is Ness and she just so happens to be the instructor for my pastry class. After class yesterday, I was riding my bike home and some jerk opened their car door right in front of me. I ended up flying over the handlebars and landing in the street. I banged up my hip and hit my head. Ness insisted that I come home to her apartment, which she apparently shares with Jacob, since my host family was away for the weekend. She and Jacob have been waking me up – as per concussion care guidelines – all night. I was finally getting some sleep when you cal..."

He could feel his heartbeat speed up as he listened. So the jerkface had a girlfriend? If that was really the case, then why was he talking sweet to his wife? As he was musing about how flimsy that excuse sounded, he nearly missed the next part of the message. Just as he felt his heartbeat increase, he felt it nearly stop when she described the accident. Why did things like this seem to seek her out like a sick kind of homing beacon? She was a danger magnet, plain and simple. And he definitely considered Zha-cob in the danger category. The machine moved on to the second message.

"I was really sound asleep on the couch, by myself, when you called. Jacob answered because he's a dork with no sense of personal boundaries, and woke me up, but you had already hung up. Please believe me, Edward. There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Jacob; it has never even crossed my mind. I wouldn't do that to you, Edward. You're my husband and I love you. Please call me back. Please."

As he listened to the second part of the message, the conflicted feelings resurfaced. She sounded fine, but he was extremely annoyed that she hadn't gone to the hospital. What if there was something serious going on? On the other hand, he felt like a jerk for even entertaining the idea that she would step out on him. Was he really that insecure about their relationship that he would assume Bella could cheat on him? She was scared. She'd admitted it to him. Scared of totally different things than he was, but scared nonetheless. Could he do the same and admit that he was scared too?

He listened to the message again, just to get the facts of the accident straight. He needed to make sure that she was okay; that sense of protectiveness overwhelmed the niggling thoughts of her possible indiscretions.

He dialed Bella's number, still not really sure what he wanted to say to her, let alone what he wanted to hear from her. The only objective he had at that moment was to make sure she was okay physically.

The phone picked up after one ring. "Edward? Did you hear my mes..."

"Are you okay?" he asked, cutting off Bella's desperate words with his short tone of voice.

He heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line and closed his eyes, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Edward, I'm fine."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"No."

"Do you have any blurred or double vision?"

"No."

"Any floaters or seeing stars?" He began his medical interrogation in earnest, firing off questions almost faster than she could answer.

"No, Edward."

"Why didn't you go to the hospital? There could be a subdural hematoma or something else that could only be seen on an MRI or a CAT scan."

"Seriously, Edward? Look, it isn't any worse than when we were in high school and you pushed me out of the way of that van that skidded out of control in the parking lot. It was just a little bump. I've got a mild headache, but everything else is fine."

"You had an MRI back then," he mumbled, feeling so impotent not being able to at least physically examine her just to make sure that she was okay.

"Edward, stop! I don't need a doctor right now. Jeez, you always do this. I can't talk to you when you get like this."

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and his pride flared momentarily before that all too familiar feeling of fear shot through him. She couldn't hang up now, he hadn't gotten all the answers he was looking for, plus he just really didn't want to stop talking to her. "What do you mean 'when I get like this'? Get like what?"

"Ugh, you get all doctor-y, like you're running down a checklist of questions to ask me. I don't know how to explain it, but every time there's anything to do with my health you turn into this ultra-clinical, almost cold person."

He blew out a frustrated breath and said a little too forcefully, "That's who I am. I am Dr. Cullen. It's the one damn thing I'm good at. Really good at. When your health and well-being are in question, I don't know, my analytical brain just takes over. I've been trained to assess, diagnose and treat. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't need you to be my doctor!" She shouted. "I just want you to be my husband. The medics have already checked me out, now I just need my Edward. Can you do that for me, please?" she begged.

He was shocked to hear that she felt that way about his questions; about him. He hadn't even realized that he'd acted like that. "I won't apologize for being worried about your health. Bella, you have no idea how important it is to me to know that you're okay. If you're hurt, I want to be able to make it better."

"Edward, you can't heal everything." She sounded so sad.

"But I want to try," he said tenderly, pouring all of his raw and bruised emotions into those words.

A silence settled over the line dominated by the unasked questions that wanted a voice.

"I didn't sleep with him," Bella stated bluntly.

Edward struggled to get that into his head, pacing through the living room. Again, his emotions were at war. He wanted to hold on to his righteous indignation – never mind that he'd been in a compromising position himself only hours ago - but he didn't want to admit that he'd jumped to some grossly erroneous conclusions. He was, frankly, ashamed that he'd doubted his wife's fidelity.

"I want to believe you. It's just hard, having you so far away. I...I'm scared too." There. He said it.

"Of what?"

This was it. He'd stepped to the edge of the cliff, but instead of giving up, now the question was could he jump and trust her to catch him?

He blew out a deep breath and quickly gathered his thoughts. "A lot of things. I'm afraid that I'm not good enough for you. I'm scared that you've already realized that, and that you might not come home at all. I'm worried that my own baggage has me so screwed up that you won't want me anymore." Just saying those words sapped him of nearly all his strength. He truly felt as though he'd split himself wide open, leaving himself completely vulnerable.

"Edward, neither one of us is perfect. We've both made mistakes, but even before that, when we were both young, with stars in our eyes, I chose you. In good times and bad. But I think you're right. I do deserve more than what you've been giving me lately," she said simply.

The statement hit him square in the chest, tearing at the vital parts of his soul that kept him alive. He could feel his breaths getting shorter and more labored.

"Bella, I know you do, I just...," the words dying in his constricting throat.

"Edward, I wasn't finished. I deserve more, but so do you. I realize that I've been emotionally absent. I haven't been the support or refuge that you've needed and deserved. I know your work is challenging and draining, both physically and mentally, and I'm sorry that I haven't had my wits about me enough to figure that out sooner. And Edward? I will be coming home at the end of July. You can lay that fear to rest."

"I'm sorry too, Bella. I'm sorry for my part in letting things get to the point that they have." He ran his hands through his hair and felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Are you really sure you're okay? I mean from hitting your head? You're not just glossing over things, right?" He couldn't help it. He'd only been working on subduing the over-protective doctor for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, I just..."

He heard a long sigh before she answered, "I'm sure, Edward. Everything is fine. I promise if anything out of the norm happens, I'll go get checked out."

"Okay," he said, only partly mollified, but not wanting to continue harping on the matter. "So how are you enjoying your class?" he asked, wanting to start getting back to the easy relationship they used to enjoy.

"It's really good. The pastries we've been learning to make are so amazingly delicious."

Edward smiled at the long-lost enthusiasm he heard in Bella's voice. She finally sounded alive and happy. Maybe this time apart wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "Does this mean I get to look forward to sampling your new recipes?"

"Hmmm. Perhaps. I'm sure I'll have to practice and hone them when I get back. You might be living in stretchy pants depending on how much you sample."

This, the light conversation that flowed like a natural spring, was what he had missed in their relationship. "Mmmm. I look forward to taste-testing as many recipes as you need me to."

He heard her soft chuckle before she sighed and said, "I need to get going. Jacob's almost done fixing the bike, then he's giving me a ride back to the Chêniers apartment before he takes off back to Béziers to visit his dad."

The soft smile that had just flitted across his face fell instantly at the mention of Zha-cob. He really couldn't help it that the mere mention of the man's name set his teeth on edge. Regardless of what Bella thought, Edward just wasn't buying the fact that Jacob only saw Bella as a friend. His silence must have spoken volumes, because Bella's next words seemed to zero in right on the heart of his concerns.

"Edward, you have nothing to be worried about. Really. Jake is totally devoted to Ness. He's just kind of flirtatious by nature. But he's nothing more than a younger brother. Please try to believe me."

Edward snorted and rolled his eyes. So he was a younger man, too? Knock it off, Cullen. He tried to think of a way to help Bella understand his skepticism when it came to Jacob.

"Bella, I know that you might feel that way about him, but I just don't buy it. I've heard, twice now, the way that he calls you chérie, the way he was talking to you this morning. It doesn't sound like he holds you in the same fraternal regard as you hold him. It sounds like...like he wants you."

"Ugh. Edward. Please, let this go. He means nothing to me. I need for you to trust me. I will not, nor have I, put myself in any kind of situation that would compromise the vows I made to you when we married. And I trust you to do the same."

Edward's ire deflated at her professed trust in him when he'd come closer than he should have to breaking that trust and doing the very thing he had been accusing her of doing not very long ago. His mind flickered back to the Strawberry Tart from the bar and her persistent advances, and he felt the pangs of his own shame.

"I...I trust you, Bella. It's him I don't trust."

"Can we please just drop this? He's really not a bad guy, but there's no way for you to know that, so just please try and forget about it?"

Not likely, snarked Edward's inner voice. "Yeah, whatever. Look, I need to get ready for work. I'm due there in thirty."

"Okay. Thank you for calling. I'll email you while you're on shift. Maybe you can give me a call when you're done with work?"

"Sounds good. I love you, Bella. I've never stopped. I just...I wanted you to know that."

"I love you, too. Talk to you soon."

His heart felt lighter after talking to Bella. He finally felt like they'd be able to move forward a little. The trick for him would be to get his raging jealousy under control and maybe talk to his parents. But that wasn't likely to happen in the near future.

…

After he got off the phone with Bella, he showered his middle-of-the-night exercising off and threw on a pair of passably clean scrubs. He was going to need to do some laundry. He was already bleary-eyed when he started his shift and it was only by the grace of some ridiculously caffeinated energy drinks that he managed to get through the thirty-six hour shift.

He ran into Eric Yorkie in the cafeteria during one of his breaks. Edward had been in such a rush to get to the hospital on time he'd forgotten to grab any pre-made meals from the fridge.

"Cullen! My man, you missed out on the sweetest pieces of..." Edward held up his hand cutting off Eric's bragging.

"Can it, Yorkie. I don't need to hear about anything that happened with those girls." Edward unwrapped the egg salad sandwich and took a bite, shaking his head at Eric's brazenness.

"Fine, but lemme just say that your loss was definitely my gain. And soooo worth it," Eric sighed, as he slumped into the seat across from Edward.

"So are you still good to cover me next weekend?"

"Yeah, man. I got you covered. So, you really gonna run a whole freakin' marathon?" Eric asked, shoving a huge bite of food into his mouth.

Edward looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering again, how this man was a college graduate. "Uh, yeah. I didn't pay the entry fee to not run it."

Eric's brow had a little wrinkle of concentration as he packed away another few bites of food before nodding and saying, "Cool."

Shaking his head, Edward scarfed down the rest of his lunch and hurried back to the on-call room to try and catch a little bit of rest.

…

The next week and a half went by in relative calm. Edward continued training, though the mileage he was running was winding down, he was still careful to keep up the intensity of each workout. He needed to make sure his pace was up to scratch so that he could qualify for Boston.

True to her word, Bella emailed him, beginning a regular routine of emails and phone calls back and forth. They talked about their days, how work was going, all of the banal things that normal couples talked about. Every now and then, Edward would peek inside his "mental issues closet", noting with some satisfaction that it was emptying out, slowly, but surely. There were still some very large items in there that needed to be dealt with, but a lot of the little things were clearing out.

About a week before the race, Edward began his carb-loading diet and tried several different combinations of shorts, T-shirts, and tank tops to find the two that would reduce friction and allow for maximum cooling. The last thing he wanted to deal with were blisters or chafing of any kind.

When he got off shift on Friday morning, he came home and did the bare minimum before falling into bed, taking a long six-hour nap before waking and finishing his preparations for the race.

The Mad Marathon took place in Waitsfield, Vermont – just an hour and a half up the road from Lebanon. He double checked that he had the message from the Waitsfield Inn on his phone, confirming his reservation. He had to pick up his race packet and check in on Saturday and really didn't feel like driving back home only to have to turn right back around the next morning. The race started at seven-thirty on Sunday and he wanted to make sure he was fresh.

He triple-checked that he had everything packed before giving Bella a call. They only chatted for a few minutes, because Bella was getting ready for bed. She told him of her plans to visit some city with fortress ruins that were famous for having a thousand steps that led from the fort, high up on a hill all the way down to a secret location in the city below. She wished him luck on the race and said good night.

He was just starting to eat his dinner of whole wheat spaghetti, light marinara sauce, and a leafy green salad when someone knocked on the door. He couldn't imagine who'd be knocking on their door. They rarely ever had any visitors.

He wiped his lips with a napkin and walked to the door. He squinted to look through the peephole and immediately took a large step back. His heart sped up and his hands got very clammy all of a sudden. Another knock sounded, followed by the impatient buzzing of their doorbell.

Resigned, Edward put on a very thick and very false façade of cheerful nonchalance, and opened the door with a forced, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

A/N: Who's at the door? Guesses anyone? Okay, we've caught up to my stash of pre-finished chapters. I've got 11 halfway done, and I will do my best to keep things close to the regular posting schedule I've been keeping. Bear with me though, I've got all the kids off school and we're visiting family right now.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'm sure many of you are heaving great sighs of relief. Let me know what part you liked best!

Keep your eyes open for a new one-shot I'm working on for the Pick-a-Pic challenge.