(AN)- Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or plots, Stephenie does. I just shuffle them around and have a little fun.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

Every living thing pushed into the ring.

Fight it out to wow the crowd.

Guess you thought you could just watch.

No one's getting out without Stadium Love

~Stadium Love, Metric

Chapter 10- Find Your Fight

At first, the dreaded day approached with lazy abandon, seeming eons away. When I opened my eyes and realized that it was Tuesday, I understood that I had lulled myself into a false sense of security and was now suffering for it. The day had snuck up on me, like a lion leaping from the bushes to pounce upon an unsuspecting gazelle.

Rose was still asleep as I padded into the kitchen in search of breakfast. I felt jittery and nervous about my impending workout with Edward. For me, nerves made me restless and manifested in even more clumsiness than usual. It was a combination that usually meant there would be some bruising in my near future.

I devoured my spinach and mushroom omelet so fast that I barely tasted it. Looking up at the clock, I realized that it was only seven. What was I going to do with myself all day? Heading back to the kitchen to wash my plate, I began humming under my breath in an attempt to distract myself. The humming turned into foot tapping as I scrubbed, which then merged into hip swinging as I rinsed, and finally, turned into an attempt to slide across the kitchen floor a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

This was a mistake. Hardwood floors did not play well with socks, and I didn't have the coordination to mediate between the two. At first I was sliding smoothly across the floor, but then I felt my balance shift, and gravity began to drag me down mercilessly. My hands instinctively sought for something to grab onto. There was a brief moment of success when I felt my fingers curved around something solid, but my success was short-lived when it became apparent that my 'something' was the handle of the fridge which swung open and smacked me right in the face. I went down like a knockout in a boxing ring.

Much like a stunned bird that has flown into a window, I lay immobile on the floor, struggling to blink past the throbbing pain. Even when I heard Rose's bedroom door creak open I still could not move. The sound of her footfalls came closer, and then stopped.

"Did you fall?" Her voice was a shot of amused and a dash of concern.

"Maybe," I groaned back.

"Are you okay?"

I sat up slowly. "Are you referring to before or after the fall?"

With a snicker, Rose grabbed hold of my outstretched hands and helped me to my feet, leading me to the table before grabbing a glass of water and some Tylenol. She knew me too well. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Put me in a padded room where I can't hurt myself? Wait, scratch that. I think my klutziness would still prevail in the end."

My head, which had received a double dose of pain from the fridge/floor combo, throbbed steadily for what felt like hours. By the time I'd rid myself of the last vestiges of dull aching, I was left with just enough time to grab some lunch and get ready.

"You do know that you're going for a workout, not a date…right?"

Rosalie shook her perfectly coiffed blonde hair as she watched me attempt to make my brown, dry, flyaway mess look mildly presentable.

"I know, Rose, but I wanna make a good first impression."

"He's seen you around on numerous occasions. I think first impressions are over and done with." Rose knew however, that her wise logic very rarely infiltrated the paranoid and worrisome confines of my mind. With a reluctant sigh, she stepped forward and gently coaxed my hair into a ponytail. "You don't want strands in your face when you're all sweaty. Relax, Bella. It's not about how you look. Just do what he tells you and take it seriously."

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As I pulled into the parking lot, I began to wonder if my problem was that I was taking it too seriously. This wasn't a test or a job interview. There was no punishment awaiting me if I did badly. The worst case scenario was that I did pathetically bad and Edward hated me, but professional courtesy would hopefully keep him from voicing such opinions. After all, I was paying him for his services.

Unfortunately, no amount of logical banter could quell the butterflies in my stomach. Those butterflies weren't just fluttering about. No, they were rocketing around at hyper speed. It almost felt like they were playing touch football in there.

Prepared to be greeted by Alice's not so friendly face, I was surprised to see Emmett at the desk when I walked in. The smile I received gave me a mental picture of the kind of smile I imagined the Roman Soldiers would give a Gladiator about to enter the arena and attempt to fight a lion. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

"How ya feeling?" he asked, his tone making me think that he could smell my fear better than a bloodhound.

I gulped. Emmett's grin grew wider.

"Don't worry; he won't hurt you too bad; although…a lot of people do blow chunks during their first workout."

Thank you, Emmett, for that lovely mental picture. I feel so much better.

The walk to the locker room felt long. I peered around the gym, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. I pictured Edward in a dark room, cackling wickedly as he plotted my torture.

I had never come to the gym at this time on a Tuesday. It was bustling, and far more crowded than I was accustomed to. After locking up my belongings, I forced myself to take a deep breath and made my way back out into the gym.

Edward was at the front desk when I emerged. We spotted each other at the same time, and he motioned for me to come over. Emmett began ominously snickering as I approached, until Edward shot him a glare. Turning to me, he pointed in the direction of a metal 'jungle gym' like apparatus. "Five minutes of stretching, and then a five minute warm up on the elliptical or treadmill. Then we'll get down to business."

"O…kay," I whispered, turning obediently.

"Bella?"

His voice pulled me back around, and the quirky crooked smile on his face made the breath catch in my throat. He winked and leaned forward against the counter. "Relax," he advised, humor clinging to the edges of his words.

I managed a forced smile before heading to the area he'd directed me towards. Apparently what I called the jungle gym was technically referred to as the Stretching Cage. It was a half circular shape, made of metal bars which curved upward and over to create a slight ceiling. A large plaque in the back displayed written and pictorial directions on how to position oneself on the bars and stretch various muscles.

I am going to break body parts on this thing.

Scanning the plaque with enormous amounts of hesitation, I looked for something easy. My eyes stopped on a pretty straightforward position which was meant to stretch the arms. All I had to do which reach up and grab the two outermost bars hanging above me, while keeping my feet firmly on the floor. It seemed simple enough.

Lesson for future reference. Simple can hurt like a bitch.

My arms were screaming obscenities at me, all the way from my wrists to my shoulders. The directions said to hold the pose for 30 seconds, rest for 20 seconds, and then repeat two more times. The next five minutes of my life involved pain. Lots of pain. I stretched my legs, my torso…even my butt. My muscles, unfamiliar with such forms of torturous abuse, were all attempting to flee my body. I clenched my teeth and pushed through it. I was not going to be the loser who couldn't even make it through a little stretching.

So it was with extreme amounts of determination and a fatigued waddle that I headed for the elliptical. I could feel Edward's eyes on me as I started coaxing the machine's peddles into motion. The heart rate monitor screamed at me to grab the handles where the sensors were located. Not surprisingly, my heart was already racing, a mixture of exertion and nerves.

I became so absorbed in watching the time blink by on the dashboard; 30 seconds turned into a minute, a minute to two. As I was counting down my last 30 seconds, Edward's voice sounded from my left, scaring about ten years off of my already pitiful lifespan.

"After you've finished and wiped down your machine, meet me at the dumbbells."

"Okay," I gasped, trying to regulate my breathing as my five minutes ended and the machine beeped at me. For some reason, however hard breathing was while I was moving, it was even harder for the first few minutes after I stopped; almost as if my body didn't recognize the full effect of the exertion until it stopped. I pictured it going 'hey…you moved me in a fairly vigorous fashion for a moderate amount of time. What gives? This is not part of our couch potato regimen. Let me retaliate by making all the fatigue and lack of breathing hit you all at once when you're trying to rest.'

It could be said that I took my sweet time wiping the elliptical down. Some would call that a stalling tactic. I prefer to think of it as a healthy understanding of the necessity of sanitization in a gym setting. Finally satisfied that I had done an adequate job of making sure the machine was nice and clean for its next user, I tossed my paper towel into a trashcan and headed over to meet Edward.

He was leaning against a part of the wall not blocked by machinery. The furrow of his brows, the glare in his eyes, and the half scowl carved out in his lips, were reflected in the row of mirrors that lined the adjacent wall.

God he has the sexiest scowl I've ever seen in my life.

Curious as to what was irritating him I followed his gaze and noticed a big, frighteningly muscular man making a big show out of lifting a heavy barbell. Every few seconds he would wink suggestively at a nearby female and flex with exaggeration.

Looks like I'm not the only one who's annoyed by the antics of egotistical show-offs.

I motioned towards the object of Edward's discontent as I came to stand before him. "I guess you see a lot of that in a gym."

He shook his head in disgust. "Not usually. This is a gym for the average joe's workout needs, not body builders. They usually go to Port Angeles." With a shake of his head, Edward traded his scowl in for a sly grin. "So Miss Swan, are you ready?"

I suppressed the desire to scream "No!" and run away as quickly as possible. Instead, I gathered the little scraps of determination and confidence that clung to me, stitched them together in my mind, and wrapped them around my heart like a blanket. "I'm ready," I said. As the words passed my lips, I knew that they were true. It was time for change; it was time to take control of my self. Besides…this was just the first workout. It couldn't possibly be that bad.

Perhaps I did not come into this plan with realistic expectations. I had pictured this first session being less 'hands on'; that he would take it easy on me. My mind had imagined watching him go through the motions of the workout while I made notes and tried not to drool as his lean muscles rippled. This delusional daydream was promptly destroyed when I found myself with a 15 pound weight in my hand.

"I want you to hold the weight like this," he said, as he grabbed a dumbbell and held it lengthwise, his hands cupping around one end so that the other hung down heavily. "Then you're going to come over here and do wall squats." Again he demonstrated, bracing his back against the wall and dipping down into a squat, holding the weight level with his knees. "You're going to hold this position for as long as you can."

I pretty much felt like I was going to pee my pants out of fear. The look on my face must have adequately express that, because when Edward straightened and looked at me, his whole face was beaming with amusement. "You'll be fine, I promise."

The opposing groan caught in my throat, sounding like a whispery whine instead. I swallowed my nerves, gripped my dumbbell and positioned myself against the wall like he'd showed me. The minute I let my body slide down, my legs began to quiver, unaccustomed to such use. Little tendrils of fire began to scorch through my muscles, protesting my position with everything they had.

"Hold that position, Bella."

I closed my eyes and strained to remain still. My whole body was shaking now, a full scale revolt. It had only been a few seconds. This was too much too fast, it was too hard. Why did Edward think a fat couch potato like me could do this? Couldn't he have started with something easier?

Resigned, I gave up, and let my grateful body slump towards the floor. I had only held my position for eight measly seconds.

"Again."

My eyes shot upward in a panic, settling on the serious narrowing of his eyes and the tight line of his mouth. He wasn't kidding.

I glared at him in indignation. "If I couldn't do it the first time what makes you think I can do it a second?"

Pools of green hardened, their gaze raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Edward bent down on one knee, observing me sternly. "Don't you see? You did do it. I don't expect you to be able to lift gratuitous amounts of weight, or run a marathon mile. This is about taking little steps. Though just because they're little, doesn't mean they're easy. If this is going to work, you have to be willing to push yourself. Part of my job is to help you see that you're capable of more than you think you are. So we do this again, and this time you shoot to hold it for 20 seconds, okay?"

Instinct made me want to argue with him. How did he know what I was or wasn't capable of? But I'd asked for this, paid for this. It was too late to turn back. I was here, and if I didn't give 110% and take advantage of this opportunity then I was a fool. So I did as I was told, standing against the hard coolness of the wall and taking a deep breath before I slid down, both hands firmly grasping the weight. The burn returned immediately, and with a vengeance. After 5 seconds, my legs slid outward slightly from the strain.

"Keep that position Bella," Edward ordered.

But it hurt. My legs were shaking again. I slipped another inch.

8 seconds…9 seconds.

"Bella, you can do this and you know it. Find your fight."

Find my fight? Philosophy in a gym, really? All he needs to do is start talking backwards and he'll be my very own Yoda.

I could feel tears of shame pooling at the corners. I wanted to fight, but what was it that I was fighting? After all these years I was tired of trying to fight my self. So I struggled to hold onto all the times in my life I had not fought for myself and regretted it.

I thought of every person who had ever cut me with their words.

Fat. Ugly. Stupid. Worthless.

I should have told them that they were wrong.

It struck me suddenly, that every second I held this position I was doing exactly that. I was telling them that they were wrong. That I had value as a human being, and I was not going to let their words stop me from finding that worth. I gritted my teeth.

Edward was counting out the seconds. "Fifteen, sixteen…you're almost there."

With all the emotional pain that my weight had caused me, that I had let it cause me, it made sense that my redemption was going to have to be pulled from physical pain. This was a pain that was going to build me up instead of tearing me down. I deserved what was waiting for me at the end of this pain.

I can do this.

All my life I had been a quiet, meek little lamb surrounded by lions. It was my turn to roar.

Strained grunts filtered through my mouth as I struggled to dominate my revolting muscles. Then I realized what number Edward was on.

"…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Excellent work Bella. You can relax now."

I crumpled like a soda can against a frat boy's forehead. My breath tore through me in ragged gasps.

I did it.

Edwards hand came into my line of vision, offering to help me up onto my unsteady legs. My poor legs, I could almost hear them screaming 'What was that you just did to us? What kind of vile, black hearted torture was that?'

The triumph lacing around the edges of my heart tied a double knot of joy when I saw that Edward was looking at me with a pleased smirk upon his face. I liked that he was proud of me. More importantly, I liked feeling proud of myself.

"What's next?" I asked.

The next 45 minutes were far from easy. I whined and almost cried, thought I was going to throw up twice, and felt pain in muscles that I didn't even know I had. Edward taught me lunges, made me lean back on a bench and bring my knees as close to my chest as possible while pinching a ten pound weight between my feet. He showed me that if I oriented the position of my feet between pointing straight, inwards, and outwards, I could work three different muscles on one machine. I perspired like a pig, I begged him to have mercy, and I often couldn't go as long as he wanted me to with an exercise. But I let him push me, and made attempts to push myself.

That was until he declared that it was time to do exercises on my abs. I had promptly looked down at my protruding gut and said "What abs?" which had made Edward dissolve into some deliciously husky chuckles.

It became immediately apparent that the ab-oriented exercises were going to be my least favorite. Pain was pain no matter where it was located. Edward had focused on my legs for most of this session and I pretty much felt like I was not going to be able to walk for weeks, but focusing on the torso area centered all the pain right on my stomach area and made me feel like I was going to lose my lunch and my dignity all over Edward's sneakers.

I managed to get through the excruciating discomfort of sit-ups when I realized that I couldn't see Edward's face while lying down, but would be rewarded with a glimpse of his 'oh so sexy when focused' face when I sat up. But even that started to lose its charm when I was on my third repetition of 15 sit-ups. The exercise he showed me to work my oblique muscles - which were located around the sides of my torso - were even more loathsome. He had me hold a ten pound weight in each hand while lying down with my legs pulled toward me in a sit-up position. Then I had to lift myself up to a certain degree - which I could never get quite right, and alternate my arms as I reached forward and attempted to touch my ankles.

When all was said and done, the exercise that Edward had termed "The Plank' was the worst by far. I had to roll over onto my stomach, which was embarrassing enough, because I knew my ass was right in his face. Then I clasped my hands together and leaned forward onto my elbows, keeping them lined against the floor, while raising my torso up so that I rested on the tips of my toes.

Yeah…I couldn't even hold that for ten seconds. So Edward made me do it like five times, stating that what I had the hardest time with was what I needed to do the most of.

I vehemently disagreed with that theory.

When I fell against one of the blue mats that lined the area set up for yoga stretches and abs for the fifth time, I was pretty much praying for the Grim Reaper to come and collect my battered soul A.S.A.P.

"Alright Bella, we're all done for today."

Never mind Mr. Grim Reaper, sir. I'll take a rain check.

I groaned like an old woman with arthritis as I sat up. "We're done? You've sufficiently broken me for one day?"

"Yes ma'am," Edward answered with a smile, running his hand through his bronze hair. I was almost too tired to fantasize about tracing those fingers with my own.

Almost.

I started to head for the locker room, thinking that the idea of sitting down on the bench for a few minutes sounded heavenly.

"Ahh, you're not free yet," Edward called after me. "I said we were done, not that you were done. You still have to cool down."

"Doesn't that just involve resting? Like sitting on the couch with my legs up?"

He shook his head. "No, your muscles need a little more than that. I want you to do a slow and steady 10 minutes on the treadmill, and then stretch yourself out on the cage. It'll help your heart rate come down, and your muscles relax."

"That sounds like more work. How does that calm my muscles down?" I muttered, though I turned obediently as I griped.

He gave me an encouraging pat on the back as I limped off towards the treadmill. "See you on Friday!"

For a moment, the prospect of having to come back and do it all over again in three days made me wince. By the time I completed my cool down, gathered my things, and headed for the door, that feeling had been doused by an addictive surge of success and pride. I may have walked out to the parking lot with shaky legs and an unsteady wobble, but beneath that wobble there was a happy bounce in my steps.

When I got back to the house, I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch. My heart beat felt faster than normal and I could still feel the heat in my face lingering from all that exertion. I had no intention of getting off the couch ever, or at least, in the near future. I knew that eventually I would have to shower, and eat a healthy dinner, but for now, I just wanted to lie here. My peaceful plans were interrupted however, by Rosalie, who was immediately buzzing around me like an excited bee, wanting to know every detail of my work out and how it had gone.

I went to bed at 8pm that night, my legs still carrying pulsing embers of pain within their muscles. But despite the exhaustion, and the discomfort, I fell asleep with a satisfied smile on my face.

I had found my fight.

(AN)-I know my updates have been scattered. I apologize. School's been insane this semester. I have 6 papers and 3 finals to do between now and May 9th. I'm going to do my best to update between now and then, but if I don't, you'll know why.

I do however have a contest o/s that I committed to which I'll hopefully be posting around the middle of next week. It's gonna be angsty though, just so you know.

Also I will be contributing an original o/s to a compilation for The Fandom Fights Mental Illness. If you're interested you can find out more here:

findingyourvoice-ffmi (.) blogspot (.) com -Remove spaces and paragraphs.