A/N again, thanks to my readers, reviewers, favorite clickers and my most amazing beta Saluki168 - she really talks me through difficult moments during the writing of this story. She's also a very beautiful writer herself. Also, I'm a blogger over at come see me there!

The days preceding Charlie's Wednesday appointment were as up and down as an elevator. Sunday he actually made it out of bed, ate two meals, and even managed a shower.

Monday he was like a deflated balloon and spent the day in his bedroom. Edward came on schedule and there was no lingering awkwardness between the two of us, though I didn't make an effort to spend any length of time with him. I actually went on a long walk in the damp air, submitting myself to the deep fog as I roamed the neighborhood listening to the sound of leaves blowing across the asphalt. I didn't think about anything in particular, which was a welcome respite from my almost constant worry.

Tuesday Charlie stayed in bed until two o'clock in the afternoon and then had an abundance of energy, though his limbs were weak. He really wanted to shower but didn't have the physical strength. I was not comfortable in sponge bath territory, so I offered to wash his hair in the kitchen sink instead. He sat on a tall bar stool I had unearthed in the garage and leaned over the counter. I wrapped a towel around his shoulders, turned on the water, and let it warm before holding the spray nozzle over his head and soaking his soft, dark hair. Next, I squirted a dollop of shampoo into my hand, breathing in the coconut scent of the Nexxus shampoo as I massaged it into his scalp. It was rewarding to hear him sigh with contentment.

"Feel good, dad?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Good, keep your eyes shut. I'm going to rinse you now."

After the rinse, I wrapped the towel around his head and shimmied my hands back and forth to dry it as he sat back on the stool.

"Thanks, honey. It feels good to have a clean head. Bed head isn't my style."

I laughed lightly at his remark. "What about a cleanly shaved face to go with the hair?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

I retrieved the shaving supplies from his bathroom as he waited in the kitchen. It was easier to bring the kit to him rather than bring him to the kit. Then, I proceeded to carefully remove the gruff stubble that had emerged since the last time I shaved him. I was used to the task, having been his personal barber for the better part of two years.

"Done, smooth as a baby's bottom," I declared, patting his skin dry.

"Are you calling me an ass-face?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a chuckle. "No but you're kind of a butt head," I returned.

"Oooo...that was quick. Nice recovery."

"Alright, enough is enough. Do you want some help changing out of those clothes?" He had been wearing the same sweats and t-shirt for two days.

He shook his head 'no' and smiled. "I'll bum it for one more day and get nice and purty for the doctor tomorrow."

"You're the boss," I proclaimed.

"Don't forget it."

He watched television in the living room, and I made red wine, slow-cooker stew for dinner. He loved it so much, he even had seconds, and that was something to celebrate; it was rare for him to eat any more than one meal a day since the previous week. How quickly things seemed to change in the span of one week's time.

Wednesday was going to be a busy day, so we had turned in early. I made sure Charlie was comfortably bolstered by his pillows- one beneath each of his arms and two supporting him from behind- and kissed him goodnight. I found sanctuary in my own room, turning on the video monitor and placing it within earshot on my nightstand. Edward had given me quite the gift in that small device. My resentment towards him began to lift at the thought, and I gave myself a little mental beating for allowing it to evolve in the first place. He obviously cared for Charlie and, to some extent, me. I fell asleep, the thought of him fresh on my mind. I had to remember to be more gracious...

I slowly came awake to filtered light trickling in through my window. I stretched my arms toward the ceiling, yawning as oxygen filled my lungs. I looked at the clock; it was seven-thirty. I pushed the button on the monitor to see if my dad was awake. He was still asleep; his head tilted forward and his chin resting against his chest. I watched his ragged, choppy breaths and felt relief that the day would finally bring some clarification with regards to the status of his health.

The appointment was at ten o'clock and Billy, Sam, Paul, and Josh were all coming over for dinner. Edward would also be coming per his schedule. I hoped that when Charlie did wake up, he would be feeling robust; it was going to require a power plant's stock of energy to get through the day.

I was already dressed and ready when he woke up at eight-thirty.

"Hey, how are you feeling, dad?" I greeted him as I entered the room.

"Okay. Very rested," he answered. His speech was slow but decipherable, which was a good sign.

"Do you want to get up and have breakfast? Or would you rather get dressed first?"

"Dressed," he answered. I helped him into a full sitting position and pulled the t-shirt over his head. He still couldn't lift his arms above his shoulders so I always helped with his shirt. I retrieved a collared shirt with a zipper at the neck. Zippers were manageable for him, while buttons were impossible; I indulged in anything that awarded him prolonged independence. I didn't have to fully help him with his pants; we had developed a method that spared us the incommodious reality that would come with undressing your father and being dressed by your daughter. While his briefs remained in place, I would pull his pants down by the ankles. Diverting my eyes, I would pull his new pair of pants up as far as his knees, where he could reach them and shimmy them up. He would scoot slowly towards the edge of the bed and when he reached it he would allow himself to essentially fall into the pants. After he zipped his pants, I finished by performing the unavoidable task of buttoning him up.

After he was dressed, he made his way to the bathroom and I took off in the direction of the kitchen to pour him some cereal and a cup of coffee.

Thirty minutes later and we were in the car and headed in the direction of the doctors office. The morning had gone smoothly, and I hoped we would have an afternoon and evening to match.

Instead of waiting while Dr. Cullen examined my dad, I joined him during the examination. Charlie had asked me to because he thought it would be better if we heard the same thing at the same time in the hope that it would lead us to the same feelings. If only it were that easy.

The nurse weighed him and then escorted us into the room where she took his blood pressure and listened to his pulse. We waited about five minutes before Dr. Cullen walked through the door.

"Charlie, Bella, good morning. It's nice to see you both."

"Hey, Doc, how are you?" Charlie offered.

"Still a bit jet lagged from the trip, but in good spirits. By the way, thanks for having Edward over for Thanksgiving, I know he quite enjoyed himself."

He flashed me a knowing look as he said "enjoyed." Hmmm.

"We were happy to have him," I replied.

"So, Charlie, tell me about how you're feeling."

My dad relayed everything in detail as Dr. Cullen listened patiently. Afterward he listened to his lungs for what seemed like forever and then followed through, checking his reflexes (which appeared to be poor).

"Would the two of you like to come with me to my office? There is a lot we need to discuss, and I think you might be more comfortable there."

"Sure, we'll be right behind you," Charlie replied.

Dr. Cullen proceeded to leave the room as I waited for dad to get his bearings. We made it to the office, just three doors down, five minutes later. Most of dad's upper body weight was relying fully on the support of the walker, as he hunched over it slightly, looking much older than his fifty-four years. He moved like an elderly man, and I could hardly believe the changes in him. Although I knew his condition would only deteriorate, my mind refused to actually believe it. A part of me kept waiting for him to get better.

Dr. Cullen had left his door open and we walked right in, taking seats in the chairs that sat opposite him.

As we settled in, Dr. Cullen grimaced slightly – just like Edward had on Thanksgiving - they had the same tell. I knew immediately that whatever was coming would be heavy.

"Charlie, Bella," he started. "I want to be as clear about everything with you as possible."

"Of course, doc, you know I like things on the level," my dad answered.

He nodded and then started relaying everything in detail. "First, I'm concerned about your weight. You've lost fifteen pounds in the course of a month. Have you been having trouble with food?"

Charlie struggled to shift in his chair. "I just don't have much of an appetite these days. I love food but instead of enjoying it, I'm getting exhausted just eating it. I needed to lose a few anyway. Maintain my girlish figure, ya know."

Dr. Cullen chuckled, "Ah, Charlie. You are refreshing, but in all seriousness your weight loss is a matter of concern. I want you to start supplementing your meals with high calorie drinks like Ensure."

"I'm no geriatric, doc."

"This I know," Dr. Cullen said, looking down and chuckling to himself again. "I'm going to have Edward monitor your weight on a more frequent basis. If you keep losing, we will have to consider a feeding tube."

"What? He can still eat though," I interjected, alarmed.

"It's a simple procedure." He went on to explain what it entailed. It didn't sound so bad, but the thought of him replacing actual food with a high-calorie liquid that was pumped directly into his stomach was completely depressing.

The news, along with his disease, was progressively worse. His lung capacity had decreased, and he would need the Bi-pap machine that Edward had mentioned. And, if that didn't work, he would need the permanent tracheostomy ventilator. Charlie's response when Dr. Cullen mentioned it was vehement. He shook his head with such conviction.

"I won't need one of those. Feeding tube, no big deal. The big blue tube? I don't even have to think about it. It's not something I want. I don't want to live that way."

Perhaps in reaction to the distraught emotion I wore on my face, Dr. Cullen looked directly at me as he responded.

"It's not something we have to decide today. The Bi-pap could provide you with a great deal of time and the flexibility you desire, Charlie. Let's not worry about the next step for now."

"You can check the little box "no." This is something I'm confident about."

I was immediately a ball of unfathomable emotion. I felt as if I was going to be ill, like if I opened my mouth I might vomit out my entire stomach rather than just the contents.

I barely remember the rest of the conversation, besides realizing that Dr. Cullen had changed the subject. He was suddenly talking about the wheelchair, and Charlie agreed that he was ready to "go there." I was there but I was not present. I knew I had missed things as I lost myself in the distressing reality of my situation.

While I appreciated his candor, Dr. Cullen had rattled me during the visit. If I didn't know better I would have thought that I had been abducted by aliens during the latter half of the appointment. There was definitely missing time.

I could only think about how my dad had outright denied the ventilator, a modern miracle that could prolong his life for years.

The thought of Charlie's decision assaulted my mind, attacking it from all sides without relenting. As we sat silently in the car headed home, the subject dominated my every thought.

When we finally arrived home, I couldn't refrain from bringing it up again. I was not a sales expert, but I was determined to sell him on anything that could prolong our time together. Dad sat down in his arm chair, and I pulled up a dining room chair next to him.

"Dad, why are you so sure about the ventilator? I mean, won't you even consider it, for me?"

"I have a lot of time to think. A lot." His deep brown eyes found mine, and I could see hesitation in them.

"And?" I asked, prompting him to continue.

"If I agree to a vent, I won't be living, I'll be existing. I want to live, Bella, just not like that. Then there's you."

He huffed as he readjusted his position.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. When you were a little girl my dreams were all for you. Even now that you're my grown up girl, my dreams are still for you." He started to get visibly choked up but persevered. "This is not what I want for you. The greatest gift that you could give me right now would be to tell me that you will not waste your life on sorrow and regret. I need you to live for me... for us."

In an open display of emotion, tears sprung from my eyes and fell down my cheeks. "Are you giving up?"

"Never." He looked me sternly. "You know me better than that by now. I just have to prepare, say things while I can. But, I promise, I will fight as long as I'm not just a brain preserved in an unmovable body."

I sniffled as he reached out to comfort me with his quaking hand. It stilled as it landed on top of the rounded part of my shoulder.

"I know this is hard for you, honey, but you're strong. You have the Swan constitution and you're going to get through this. All of this. I wish I could keep you from it, but I could only do that if I sent you away, and I'm too selfish to do that."

"You couldn't make me anyway."

I threw my arms around him as I knelt down on the floor, and he put his hand on the back of my head as I cried against his chest. In that moment I forgot that I was caring for him; I let go of the weights that I had worn for the past four years and I was just his little girl, seeking comfort in her daddy's arms.

"I love you, Dad," I said, sucking in air in between sobs.

"I love you...Now I think I'm going to go lie down and rest up a bit before the guys come over."

"Are you sure you don't want me to call them and make plans for another night? It's already been a big day."

"My life isn't getting any longer, sweetie. I'm looking forward to hanging with my boys tonight."

"Okay, I'm making that mushroom lasagna you love."

"Sounds delicious," he replied, getting up from his chair in an execution of great effort.

"Dad?" I asked as he started his trek to the bedroom.

"Yeah, hon?"

"Do you want help?"

"Nah, I got it." And he turned his back as he left the room.

About ten minutes later I heard the faint sound of Patsy Cline's lulling voice coming from his bedroom. I sighed internally; he only listened to Patsy Cline when he was feeling low. I wanted to find a way to comfort him, but I knew that he just had to go through it. If he wanted my help, he wouldn't have gone to the room and shut the door.

I sunk into my own pit of despair as I tried to find the motivation to get up and do the prep for dinner. Before I discovered the inspiration, my phone buzzed on the coffee table where I had set it down.

I looked at the caller ID: Em.

My heart fluttered in my chest, and I decided not to press "Ignore" and took the call.

"Hey Em," I answered.

"Iz! I'm stoked you picked up. It's been a couple of weeks, and I've been thinking about you. How are things?"

"Today has been all sorts of difficult to tell you the truth." Normally I would reserve my emotional confessions for Alice, but he caught me at a point of vulnerability, and I needed to get it off my chest.

"Tell me about it. I'm here to listen...I'm here for you." His voice was comforting and without its usual sarcastic undertone. In an instant, I craved to have his arms around me; I wanted him with me.

"For starters, his lungs are showing decreased function and that means he'll have to be on this machine called a Bi-pap for at least a few hours a day and while he sleeps. He's also lost some weight and will probably have to have a feeding tube implanted within a month or two. Then there's the wheelchair being delivered this week and the hospital bed next week...and now, he's in his room listening to Patsy Cline. You know what that means."

"Damn, Izzy, that's a lot to swallow. I can understand why he might be feeling depressed. Are you okay?"

"No."

"I know it might be crappy timing, but I'm going to be heading there tomorrow to meet with a client. I was hoping I might be able to take you to dinner."

"Oh," I said, caught off guard. "Um, I don't know. I'll have to see if someone can come hang out with dad for a while. Otherwise I think it sounds...nice." My stomach, to my surprise, did back flips. Old feelings began to unearth themselves from the graveyard in my heart.

"I hope you can find someone; I would hate to come all the way there and not get to see you. Of course, I could just hang with the two of you."

"As much as I would like that, I could use a night away. Especially after today. Let me see if anyone is willing to hang around and give you a call later, kay?"

"Sounds good, babe. I'll talk to you soon. And hopefully I will see you tomorrow."

"I hope so too."

Almost immediately after I hung up, Edward arrived for his regular Wednesday.

"Hey, Bella," he greeted me as I opened the door.

"Hey. I nearly forgot you were coming today. I think my brain went on an unapproved vacation after the appointment this morning," I admitted.

"I spoke with my dad. I understand today was pretty daunting."

"Yeah, that's probably an understatement," I replied, motioning to the couch for him to take a seat.

"Is Charlie sleeping?" he questioned, sitting down.

"Yep. It was a lot to take in for him...and me."

"I can imagine. The most difficult thing about a terminal disease is waiting for things to get better but knowing deep down they never will."

His words were in direct accord with my feelings. I nodded my head, affirming his statement.

"How did he take it?" he asked.

"He seemed to be okay, but when he went to his bedroom, he started listening to Patsy Cline. He only listens to her when he's depressed. I always knew when he was thinking about my mother when I was a little girl because he would play her music. It's funny, he never admitted it to me, but somehow I always new it was related to her. Guess there's a new bitch in town," I said sardonically, the ALS being the "new bitch."

"I'm sure he'll snap out of it. These things take their toll but your dad is resilient, and I know he'll be back in fighting form soon, at least mentally."

"It just seems like it's all happening so fast. I'm so afraid." He reached out to me in his comforting way and put his hand on my shoulder.

"I know it's scary to watch all of this and to hear about everything that's around the corner, but I think once you have the chair, the Bi-pap, and the hospital bed that things will level out again for a while. They will be different but also stabilized. I promise I will be here for you, every step of the way."

My eyes, which were brimming with tears, found his and I asked, "Will you?"

With a firm and assuring squeeze of my shoulder and conviction in his green eyes he said, "Everyday if that's what you need."

I laughed. "Are you just looking to make some extra money?" It was a completely defensive reaction. I didn't intend to be callous, I was just trying inadvertently to protect my heart, spare it any more pain.

"No. Absolutely not. I know things are confusing, but I'm here because I care...about both of you." His firm grip on my shoulder deepened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that; I just never expected this," I reversed, gesturing back in forth between us.

"To be completely honest, I didn't expect it myself. But, it's quite the job perk if you ask me. Having found a friend in you and in Charlie is a gift, one I won't take for granted."

There was that word again. Friend. It didn't matter; I wasn't going to be a "Bitter Betty" about it any more. I was going to appreciate it and be thankful for it.

"I'm glad that you consider knowing me a part of your benefit package." I giggled under my breath and felt better than I had all day. He had a knack for doing that to me.

"I'm hoping that it's a mutual benefit," he said with a smile.

"Oh, it is. Definitely. Would you like to stay for dinner tonight? The guys are coming over and I'm making a killer lasagna."

"Hmmm. Let me think about that," he said, tapping his chin while looking towards the ceiling.

"Okay, I would love to. But it better be killer," he joked.

The look on his face turned slightly more serious as his hands began massaging the base of my neck. His lips were parted just barely and his eyes were not leaving mine. Part of me wanted to let my head drop back and submit to his soothing touch, but I knew it was best to keep my head. His touch seemed more than friendly to me. No wonder my brain was completely scrambled when it came to Edward. He was quickly becoming king of mixed messages. Of course, maybe it was just my own lack of experience with male friends that led me to misunderstand his ministrations.

"Edward, you should stop that or I might not ever let you..." I trailed off.

"You're very tense, just relax."

"I really should start my prep work for dinner..."

"Shhhh," was his only response.

I had no more strength to voice protests; his hand was working some sort of magic on the stress I held in my neck. I actually had grown so accustomed to the tension I barely realized it was there; it had become a part of me.

About ten minutes into him working my tight muscles, we both heard the stirrings of my dad in his bedroom.

His hand slowly left my neck and dragged across my shoulder as I came out of my massage-induced foggy state of mind. I much preferred it to my earlier unconscious consciousness at Dr. Cullen's office.

"Thank you."

"Did it help?" he questioned, foolishly.

"I think the answer to that is fairly obvious."

He smiled crookedly and started to stand. "I'll go check on him now. Looking forward to dinner. Thanks for the invitation."

"No thanks necessary."

He left the room, en route to attend to my dad. I retreated to the kitchen and settled into the therapy that cooking had become for me.

End Note: Edward is a Private Duty Nurse, this allows him to have a more intimate relationship with his patient and their families. He's not governed by a board or rules that prevent him from this type of interaction. I am trying to write this story with honesty and realism so sometimes I like to point these little things out. ;) Reviews? Pretty please with Edward on top?