A/N: Thanks so much for all your varied thoughts on this story. Love hearing from you guys, even when you get frustrated with either one characters or the other. I know it's a difficult subject that raises lots of questions and opinions. :)

Michelle Renker Rhodes helps me keep all this straight.

All characters belong to S. Meyer.

Ch. 11 – The Bar, Washington, D.C.

Now:

The next morning in D.C. proceeds much as the first did. Austin and I spend the first half of the day behind congressional chamber doors; he's taking more pictures of Edward, while I'm simply observing him – the way the lights from above play with the copper strands of his hair, capturing the different shades every time he moves, the way he rolls his shoulders every fifteen minutes or so to keep from being still as a statue, the way his dark suit molds around those shoulders crisply. When he stands to speak again, the room once more goes respectfully silent, and the result of this day's vote – once Edward has made his passionate proclamation – goes the same as yesterday: all yeahs.

It seems that the man cannot go wrong. I write about the implications of this. What does it mean when a country's citizens are so taken with an individual? Can they see his flaws? Are they willing to accept that he may possibly have some, or is his undeniable charisma all that they're willing to observe?

One cannot deny, though, that he cares about what he speaks; it's in his voice, in its depth, in his serene yet passionate countenance. Yes, that's what it is; he's passionate. It's this passion for the issues that resonates with the people in this room, and with those who see him speak outside of it. When was the last time this country saw such passion? Can you blame a people for falling in love with a man who displays such fervor and intensity in everything he does both in his work and in his private life?

No, you can't blame anyone for falling in love with that zeal.

When Congress breaks for afternoon recess, Edward comes to meet us.

"Congressman, I was hoping we could take a few minutes to-"

"Ms. Swan, I'm sorry, but I have a couple of closed committee meetings to attend this afternoon. Jasper will be more than happy to assist you with anything you need for the next couple of hours."

I sigh and look down at my watch.

"Very well, I'll just head over to your office then. Perhaps later this afternoon we can-"

"I'll let you know, Ms. Swan. I might have a couple of other meetings later on today."

"Alright," I say slowly. "We'll play it by ear."

He nods, his eyes shifting from side to side. "I'll be in contact."

And then he's off.

OOOOOOOOOO

Austin and I make our way back to the Congressman's office. As promised, Jasper is more than helpful, allowing us the use of one of the empty rooms to set ourselves up. There's a desk and a couple of chairs, and as we plug in our equipment, Jasper asks us to make ourselves comfortable.

Austin goes off to take a few more pictures of the staff, and I take a walk around the office myself, interviewing a couple of interns, both have nothing but glowing words for their employer. As I'm leaning against a wall and writing down my thoughts, a flowery scent of perfume wafts my way.

"Ms. Swan, is there anything I can help you with?"

I look up at Edward's press secretary.

"Thank you, but I'm quite well for the moment." I offer her a quick smile and look back down.

She doesn't leave.

"Is there anyone you'd like me to call over for you?"

I sigh internally and look back up at her. "Thank you, but I've got it."

Her red-stained lips appear to stretch tautly over her mouth. "I think it would be a good idea if you consulted with me before approaching any of the staff."

I drop my notepad and pen down to my sides and stand up straight – not a very impressive height, but my posture gets my point across.

"Kate, was it?"

She nods stiffly.

"Kate," I smile flatly, "Jasper, as well as your boss himself, gave me the impression that I am free to speak with whomever I please and that if I do need to check on something I should consult either Jasper, or Edward himself."

Her nostrils flare. "Yes, but I am the Congressman's press secretary, and as such, I think any issues-"

"Kate, calm down."

I turn away from Kate and glance up at Emmett's smirking face. He's got his lips pursed at her, and when he looks at me, he rolls his eyes in a "she's a ridiculous bitch" sort of way, making me grin.

"Emmett," – she says his name through clenched teeth – "this is a press issue, not a security issue."

"Regardless, Kate, Edward didn't ask you to monitor Isabella while she does her job, did he?"

She narrows her mouth, lips drawn in a straight line, and shakes her head.

"Alright then," Emmett grins.

Kate huffs angrily and walks away.

"She's just very loyal to Edward," Emmett says once she's out of hearing range.

"Oh, I'm sure she is," I drawl meaningfully.

"Bella…" He says my name reproachfully, but I'm surprised to hear him call me that at all, though I shouldn't be, should I? When I look at him, he's got the distinct look of someone who wants to say more.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asks.

"No."

"Come on."

OOOOOOOOOO

We end up at a steakhouse on Constitution Avenue right here in Capitol Hill, and sit surrounded by well-dressed politicians and lobbyists as well as waiters dressed as sharply as those they wait on. Emmett settles on the Tuna, and I go for the sirloin that he recommends.

"So tell me about yourself," he grins impishly as we cut into our respective dishes. He's got dark blue eyes that seem to be constantly amused and a ruggedly handsome, honest face. Then again, I've thought that before.

He wasn't lying about the steak though; it's absolutely brilliant.

I raise a brow. "Tell you about myself? I thought I was interviewing you."

"Is that what this is?"

"What else would it be?"

Those impish eyes laugh at me, not in a spiteful way though, so I simply chuckle back and figure there's no harm in playing this game for a while. I take another bite of my smooth, silky steak and swallow.

"I'm from the outskirts of London. My father was a policeman, my mother is a teacher. I have a younger sister. I attended University in London, and…then I got a job in Michael Newton's corporation."

He listens intently. "You seem to have risen quickly in Newton's corporation, Bella." His tone is full of curiosity rather than accusation - unlike when Edward accused me of sleeping my way to the top.

"I'll admit I've been lucky – though I'll also say I've worked hard. Michael has taken me under his wing and I won't deny there've been benefits to that."

"So there are benefits?" he smiles, leaning back in his chair.

"There are always benefits and drawbacks," I smile back. "But Michael is a good friend as well as an excellent businessman. I'm nowhere I don't deserve to be. With him, I know exactly where I stand."

He holds my gaze as if he wants to ask more, but recognizes the limits of this game.

"Enough about me, Emmett, let's talk about you."

He studies me once again, but then leans forward and pops a piece of tuna in his mouth. "What about me?" he asks once he's swallowed.

"How long have you known the Congressman?"

He raises a brow. "I think you know the answer to that, Bella."

I chuckle humorlessly. "I'm afraid I know a lot less than you seem to think I do, Emmett."

He takes another bite of his tuna, obviously enjoying the bloody hell out of it.

"I've known Edward for almost ten years. I met him during our time in the military. I was assigned to his unit." There's a pause. "He saved my life."

I almost choke on the silky steak in my mouth. After taking a long sip of wine, I say, "Pardon?"

He snorts. "You didn't know that, did you?"

I shake my head, wide-eyed.

He takes one more huge bite before setting his utensils down; his smiling eyes are no longer smiling.

"We were stationed in Afghanistan, in a small town by the border with Pakistan. Our unit's job was to dismount explosives the other guys would leave for our boys and other innocent people on the roads."

"That's not-" I interrupt, remembering. "That's not what he once told me. He told me you guys cleared roads and…" I stop and snort to myself when I realize what that meant, even without Emmett's helpful raised brow.

"One night, we were in the middle of a job," Emmett continues, "when we were attacked by enemy snipers. They got a couple of our guys, and had another guy and I cornered by the side of our Humvee. We'd run out of ammo, and if we tried to move, they'd shoot. The sergeant, Edward," he explains, "came and got us even though he was pretty safe where he'd been, even though those snipers kept shooting at him left and right."

A shudder runs through me as I picture the Edward I once knew dismounting explosives in the middle of an enemy road with snipers wanting to blow off his head from every direction.

"He stayed there with us for hours, fighting off those snipers. By the time dawn broke, we were all out of ammo. They were coming closer, so Edward created a diversionary tactic and while a couple of them were busy shooting, he snuck up behind them and took'em down. Back-up finally arrived, but by that time, the threat was over."

For a long time, I simply stare at him, no idea what to say. The picture he paints has my hands shaking. Eventually I relent and put my utensils down – appetite completely gone.

"I…he…he never told me that."

Emmett grins, but it's a melancholic grin. "No, of course he didn't. It's not exactly the kind of story you tell a girl you've just fallen in love with."

When I snort he moves in closer, lowering his voice. "Not unless you're an asshole who's simply trying to impress, and that's never been his way, not in politics and not in real life." He backs away slowly. "He's not a perfect man, Bella, far from it, but you can't judge him by one action - though admittedly fucked up. There's a lot more to him than that."

"You speak like you know him very well."

"Like I said, we've been buddies for almost a decade."

"Well, I think you and I knew two very different Edwards."

"No, Bella, I don't think we did, and I think that as angry as you are – and have every right to be – somewhere deep inside, you know that."

I finish my wine quietly.

"Will you be around if I need to speak to you further, Emmett?"

He holds my gaze steadily. "I'll be around for a couple of days. After that, I have an important business trip that can't be put off any longer."

"Well then, I'll make sure to find you again in the next couple of days."

He gives me another one of his hearty, friendly chuckles. "Bella, I'm completely at your disposal."

OOOOOOOOOO

When we return to Edward's office, I excuse myself and head to the room Austin and I have been given to type up some notes.

"…can't just show up here unannounced!" It's Edward's voice, and as I open the door fully, I see him and Irina standing together. She's looking down at her feet, her expression livid, while he stands over her.

"You only want me around when it's convenient for you!"

"Irina, it was never that kind of relationship and I made sure I made that perfectly clear to-"

I clear my throat and both their heads whip up. Irina narrows her eyes while Edward's widen.

"Pardon me. I didn't mean to interrupt. Jasper told us we could use this room."

Edward looks around and blinks a couple of times, as if just realizing that the room isn't as empty as he may have been expecting.

"Isabella-"

"I'll return later."

I close the door and walk off keeping my head high; movements well controlled though my heart races.

"Ms. Swan! Isabella!" I hear Edward call me, but I don't turn around. Suddenly, I feel his hand around my wrist. He grips me carefully yet firmly, guiding my arm so that I have no choice but to turn around.

There are people all around us. Edward looks up and scans the room, plastering one of his serene, pleasant expressions on his face.

"Ms. Swan," – he lowers his voice – "Bella, I'm…sorry, I didn't know-"

"I'm not sure what you're apologizing for, Edward." I give him an easy smile. "This is your office and you may occupy any room you want for anything that you want – though I'm not sure what the taxpayers would think about that. And if you're apologizing for telling me that you'd be busy in meetings all day when in actuality you simply needed some time for your girlfriend, then I'll tell you that I don't need an apology for that either. I'm sure we'll be able to make time at some point."

He glares down at me, his hand still round my wrist. Scanning the room once again, he runs a hand through his mane and looks down at me once more.

"I didn't even know she'd be coming."

I don't answer him one way or another.

"Bella…she and I…it's not how it-"

"Edward, I sincerely hope this is on the record."

"Damn it, Bella!" He hisses a bit louder than I think he meant to. He looks around again. Everyone still appears busy doing his or her job.

"When you have time, Edward, then we can discuss your love-life, on the record, as we agreed last night. Now I have some work to get to, as I'm sure you do too." I move my eyes meaningfully towards the door to the semi-empty office before discreetly pulling my wrist away from his grasp. He lets me go.

OOOOOOOOOO

That afternoon, once the day's session is over, Edward walks over to us once again.

"Will you have time this evening for the second part of our interview, Congressman?"

He shakes his head, face impassive. "I have meetings this evening."

I nod slowly. "Very well, perhaps we can get to it tomorrow." I turn to Austin. "Do you want to go grab a bite over at-"

"Ms. Swan," Edward says, "May I have a word with you?"

I hold his gaze. "Certainly."

"Isabella, I'll wait for you outside," Austin says, and I nod, eyes still on Edward.

"Congressman, I get the distinct feeling that you're trying to avoid me today."

He chuckles humorlessly. "I'm not exactly looking forward to the next topic of discussion you have planned for us."

"I don't see why not. You must have known that we'd have to discuss the topic for this piece. As a public figure, your love life is a topic of great interest to the people, as is your relationship with your ex-wife. People are still fascinated by you and Tanya and can't understand how a couple so well-suited to each other could've failed, while a few others - the skeptics - maintain that it was a marriage of convenience from the very beginning. They say that you simply married her to advance your political career quicker than would've been the case on your own - even if your father was a Congressman – and the President wanted the marriage because he saw the potential in you and the type of control a marriage to his daughter would give him in the long run. Can you blame me for wanting to once and for all get to the bottom of that great mystery for my magazine? Imagine all the issues I'd be able to sell if I could finally solve it!"

"Bella, stop. Jesus, just please stop this and let me know what you really want."

I hold his gaze, tightening the set of my mouth because I can feel my bottom lip wanting to quiver weakly – to betray me.

"You let me know when you're available, Edward." I turn and leave.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ellie and I speak over the phone for about a half-hour once I return to the hotel. She's excited because apparently Rose, Alice and Mum took her into London today. I promise her that when I return, we'll all go together because she says that although it was fun, it wasn't as much fun without me.

"Mummy, why is my middle name London?"

"Don't you like your middle name, sweetheart?"

"Yes, but it's funny. Why is it London?"

I sigh deeply. "Because it's where you were created."

"I was created in London?"

She sounds so excited it makes me smile.

"Yes, my love. An angel smiled down on me once while I was in London, and the next thing I knew, you were in my belly."

She giggles and then starts telling me about the flowers she saw at Covent Garden – and I thank God that's where her questions end.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, I'm at the hotel's bar, sipping a glass of wine slowly. It's quite empty, and I'm grateful for both the quiet and solitude. The lights are low, and the music playing in the background equally so, soft soothing rhythms that leave me alone with my thoughts yet make it hard for me not to replay the few things I've learned of the Congressman in the past couple of days. Though I'm taking a break from the piece I'm writing on him, he still occupies my mind. When my mobile vibrates, I'm less than surprised by who the text is from.

I'm ready for our next interview, Ms. Swan, whenever you are.

OOOOOOOOOO

He meets me at the bar, dressed in faded denims and a black t-shirt that make him look younger and take me back to that weekend long ago. It's the first time I've seen him dressed down since then, and for some reason it absolutely guts me. But if there's one thing I've learned from him is how to put on a poker face – how to protect myself with a mask.

"Bella…" he breathes as he sits down at the dark corner of the bar where I've been waiting.

"Thank you for making time for me. I trust your meetings went well."

"As well as can be expected," he responds. "We were done earlier than I thought we'd be, so I figured…" – he draws in a breath – "you seemed pretty determined so I might as well get this over with."

He looks away from me and signals to the bartender.

I snort. "Congressman, if you plan on running this country, you need to learn how to face questions you may not be looking forward to."

The bartender serves him his drink, and he takes a large gulp. "I can face almost anything, Bella." His eyes remain on the inside of his glass. "Almost anything," he mutters almost to himself.

We're both quiet for a while, and then he turns his emerald eyes to me. It's my weakness; I've known this from day one and I force the inner armor up while he holds my gaze.

We each take a sip from our respective drinks, watching each other, waiting. I know the ball is in my court. I wanted to hold this question and answer session, but now that the moment is here, I can't seem to ask the questions that must be asked.

"Do you have a home here, Edward?" I find myself asking instead.

He appears momentarily relieved by the innocuous question.

"I keep a small apartment in Virginia that I rarely use. Most nights here in D.C, I just sleep in the office."

"In the office?" I repeat.

He nods, taking another swig of his drink. "My days here are pretty long and busy, and it's usually easier just to call it a day in the office. There's nothing for me to go back to the apartment for anyway."

"So your home in Long Island, is that where you officially live?"

He shakes his head. "That's my family home – it belongs to everyone in the family; my father, my aunt, my cousin-"

He stops suddenly as if he were about to say something and caught himself. I raise a brow to let him know that I caught the purposeful pause.

"My ex-wife," he finishes, staring straight ahead.

Before I can say anything, he continues. "We all have designated seasons, times of the year when the house is ours. If anyone wants to spend time at the house outside of these designated times, then we have to let each other know."

"So this coming weekend is your designated time?"

He nods.

"So where do you actually live then, Edward?"

"I have a townhouse in New York City, on the Upper West Side by Central Park. Where do you live?"

Caught by surprise, I hesitate. "I…live in London."

"Where?"

There's something strangely intense about the tone of his voice.

"I have a flat near Covent Garden. I also have an apartment in New York, not far from where your townhouse is, actually."

He snorts. "Funny how life works, isn't it? How's Tyler?"

"Tyler?" Once again, I don't expect the question. I actually haven't heard the name in years. I recall a vague conversation about him with Edward that weekend.

"Tyler is fine, last I heard. He's married, with a couple of kids, living in Wales, I believe."

He snorts once again, perfectly still, still staring deep into his half-empty glass.

"Edward, I want to talk about-"

"Is he still the only man you've ever believed yourself in love with, Bella?"

"That's really none of your business."

Another snort. "No, I don't suppose it is."

"We're here to discuss you, Edward, not me. Let's move on to your time in the military."

"I think I remember we did speak about that once." His mouth twitches slightly.

"Not in too much depth; we were too busy fucking."

I see the way his eyes widen; startled, though he's still staring at his glass.

"Is that how you remember it, Bella, that all we did was fuck? Because I remember it very differently. I remember…a lot of time spent getting to know each other; simply…talking." He looks like he might be smiling.

"Obviously not about anything important, not about any of the things we should've been talking about."

He finally looks back up at me, eyes pained. "Bella…Bella I'm so damned-"

I take a deep breath full of irritation, because I can't believe I've let myself get sucked in like this. "Don't. Just…don't. Please talk to me about your time in the military."

"Emmett tells me he's already filled you in on that, Bella, and I honestly don't want to discuss it further."

"You don't like talking about it."

He shrugs.

"Why not?"

It takes him a while to answer. "Your…father was a cop, right?"

I nod tersely.

"For a long time?"

"Over twenty years."

"What did he ever tell you about what he did? He probably told you he caught thieves," he goes on before I can answer, "arrested criminals, fingerprinted bad guys, looked up information. Did he ever give you the gory details? Did he tell you about the men he had to beat to a bloody pulp, or about the times he was beaten to a bloody pulp, about people he may have seen die, or…may have killed himself?"

I swallow thickly. "So you ignore unpleasant memories, make believe they never happened, relegate them to things you'd rather not waste your time thinking of?"

His emerald eyes narrow, ignited by fire. "No, Bella. I don't ignore unpleasant memories. I'm haunted by them every damned day of my life. I'm haunted by everything I should've done that I didn't. By everything I did that I shouldn't have. By things I didn't say and things I did. I'm haunted by the fact that you look at me exactly the way I always feared you'd look at me if I ever saw you again."

My heart thumps painfully. "Stop. We're talking about your time in the military, Edward. Please stay on topic and on record."

"Damn it, Bella." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "How did I fuck it up so badly?"

"I don't know what you mean. Things seem to be going wonderful for you. Exactly as you always planned."

"Is that how you see it, Bella?" Before I can answer, he looks away, just beyond me. "Do you hear that song?"

There's the soft, melancholy notes of a song I recognize but can't quite recall by name.

"I've always liked this song," he muses. The bartender sets another drink before him, but Edward ignores it. His eyes turn to me, once again taking me by surprise. This time it takes me longer to put up the armor. I bite my lip, because it would be so easy to get lost in those eyes once more, to believe the pain, the hurt in them.

"Dance with me, Bella."

"No," I breathe.

"One dance, Bella. Just one dance and you can ask me anything you want this week, anything, and I swear I'll answer truthfully and completely."

My chest heaves up and down, and though I know I shouldn't, I want those answers. I need them.

He must see my answer in my expression, because he takes my hand inside his warm palm and leads me just a couple of short feet away. He wraps his hands around my waist and I close my eyes, as if somehow that can erase the heat. His grip is tight around me, but I barely ghost my hands over his chest.

The man on the radio croons his wistful tune.

'…and time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?'

He gazes down at me with an intensity that takes my breath away. I drop my eyes to his chest because this is the man who lied to me with that same intensity, who offered me the world at his side and then pulled the rug out from under me in one swoop – all in less than seventy-two hours.

I stare at the way his chest rises and falls.

"Ask me your questions, Bella," he whispers. I feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead.

I close my eyes again and swallow hard.

"Tell me…tell me about…Elizabeth…your mum."

He grips my hips tighter and its becoming so hard not to hold on to him the way my traitorous hands want to hold him.

"Elizabeth," he repeats. My eyes sting from hearing that name fall from his lips with so much love; so much respect, awe and affection.

"She used to take me to the park when I was a small boy, run around with me. And when I was old enough to make my own friends she used to sit back and just watch me, making sure not to embarrass me around the other boys. She taught me to play piano even though my father thought it was a waste of time. She used to bake…used to call me her 'little man'" he chuckles. "She taught me to respect myself, and to respect others." He's quiet; thoughtful. "She taught me that it was okay to make mistakes as long as I took responsibility for my actions, no matter what the consequence, because 'a world without responsibility is a world without consequences, and a world without consequences is a world full of chaos.' I was about nine when she taught me that one, so I'm honestly not sure if I got it right."

I chuckle despite everything, and I can feel the warmth emanating from him.

He draws in a deep breath and I watch as his chest expands and contracts. Like that night he held me on the Tower Bridge, I can almost feel his heart beating against mine.

"She died when I was ten, and my entire childhood changed. My father taught me what real responsibility meant; responsibility not just to oneself, but to your family, to your country."

The song in the background plays on lowly.

'Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered, hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…'

"Do you think your life would've been different had she not passed when you were so young?"

He doesn't answer straight away. When he does, I feel the reverberations of his words on the top of my head; his lips are on my hair when he speaks.

"I can't blame the mistakes I've made in my life on her death, just like I can't blame my father for them either. My mother gave me a good foundation; she said it was okay to make mistakes as long as you took responsibility…but what if...what if you chose the wrong responsibility? What then? How do you fix that? What if you lose your opportunity to fix it?" He sighs again. "She was gone before she could teach me the answers to those questions...She gave me good principles. The path I took after that was entirely me."

We're both silent for quite a long time after that. The song ends and another one takes its place; possibly another one after that. I'm not even sure when I've begun to hold on to him so tightly, when I moved in so close, when I started feeling so comfortable in his arms again.

"Tell me what she looked like."

He chuckles. That warmth in his voice engulfs me completely. "She had hair more or less the same color as mine, a bit darker I think; more brown than red. I have her eyes too. She wasn't afraid to ask questions, to speak out, but at the same time, she had a way of talking, of saying things that made everyone love her. She held our family together."

I close my eyes and press my head against his chest to hold myself up, hearing the erratic beating of his heart, so grateful that he can't see my face right now because he's just described his daughter to a tee. For a long while, he simply holds me against him while my mind swims with bewilderment.

How do I tell him? When do I tell him? Can I really wait until the end of the week to do so?

He pulls me away suddenly, his eyes searching mine. "Bella, are you okay? You're shaking."

I blink a few times, pushing back the sting in my eyes, willing myself to get under control.

"I'm fine."

He holds my gaze, his eyes and his expression so full of concern. The words are on the tip of my tongue and suddenly I can't remember what exactly I'm supposed to accomplish here. I'd been so sure telling him about Ellie would be a huge blow to him, and I hated him for that. I'd despised him because I'd been positive he would've seen the gift I was given, the gift we were given, as a punishment.

But this man in front of me…he just doesn't seem like the bold, defiant, remorseless man I've been watching on a television screen, reading about in the newspapers, for the past six years. I was so sure that his resignation would be for the best because he's a heartless bastard. But if nothing else, he's cared about two things in his life: his country, his mother.

So what does that mean? Am I falling for his lies once more? Or...could there possibly be more to Congressman Edward Cullen?

I break away from him. "I have to go."

"Bella-"

Without another look at him, I take the couple of steps back to the bar and pick up my purse. "We've a long day tomorrow, traveling back to New York. Perhaps we should leave our next session for after the campaign stops we're making."

I feel his hand wrap around my bare arm; feel it everywhere really. Still. Despite everything, damn it, I still feel it everywhere.

"Bella, please…can we have a real conversation? Off the record?"

I hear his voice behind me, feel it against the nape of my neck. I shut my eyes tightly, shut my heart.

"Edward…no. Not now."

"Bella…"

And with that, I walk out of the bar.

A/N: Thoughts?

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.