Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that Stephenie Meyer created.

She was sleeping now, no longer unconscious; now and then she'd mumble something unintelligible. Those were good signs. She wasn't dead.

But he would be. He'd figured it out; he knew what he had to do. He couldn't keep her.

Bella needed to be both safe and happy, obviously she was neither. He couldn't protect her from herself and as long as she was away from the place she longed to be she would be in danger. He could not allow that, it was unacceptable. If there was a way for him to fix the situation and remove his Bella from harm's way then he was obligated to do so. She was his first priority.

Now he needed a new plan. Giving her back wouldn't be as easy as taking her had been, the police were on the lookout and primed to take advantage of any leads. It would have to wait until the search died down. Eventually they would stop looking and she would be declared dead, but who knew how long that would take?

If that was the future plan then his current ones needed to be refined.

For the past several weeks he'd been keeping Bella's mother and father updated on her condition in a unique way. Unlabeled packages were left in fairly obvious places around the little town of Forks and inside were pictures and video tapes, all of Bella. Those would have to be discontinued.

Edward recalled Alice's briefly mentioning the updates to Bella, but he doubted the information had stuck with her. She wouldn't have attempted the suicide otherwise.

He wondered what exactly had been going on in her mind. What had led her to the decision that the only way out was death? He would have given in eventually...maybe.

As much as it pained him he came to realize that possibly this terrible occurrence had been her only means of communicating her extreme suffering. He had been so blind to every emotion she'd displayed. So wrapped up in his hopes and dreams was he that nothing she'd said or done had really made an impression on him. Well, this latest stunt had and he was never going to recover from it.

He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, stomped on repeatedly and then cut into a million tiny pieces.

That didn't matter though, this was about Bella and clearly she was worse off than he was. He could get over his hurt if she grew to be happy again. He had to do what was best for her.

It would take time, a lot of it. He didn't know how long it would be before the police and her parents gave up on the search. How long had it been since he'd taken her? He'd gotten her at the end of November and now it was nearly Christmas. About a month then, he'd lost track of time, it hadn't really mattered. He had been convinced that Bella would always be with him and in that desirable scenario time wasn't of much consequence.

Now time was everything. He would have to follow her story carefully, watching for anything that might help him in his quest to get the search disbanded. A call to Emmett was in order.

That would have to wait though. First, Bella needed to awaken so that he could gauge her level of health and reassure himself that what he'd now chosen to do was right.

(LINE BREAK)

Her eyes felt heavy, very heavy. Even if she could have opened them she wouldn't have, she didn't want to see what was beyond this pressing darkness. Still a coward then; apparently some things never changed.

Was this all that death had to offer? Darkness? She could still think, she had conscious thought. So, what did she do now? There was nothing to see, or to hear. She was alone.

That frightened her, there was no one else, just her. Just Bella. She would go insane. Already a feeling of loneliness had settled upon her, what was next?

Guilt, guilt was next.

Bella wondered what Edward was doing right at that moment. He may not have found her yet, but that didn't matter. She tried to imagine what it would be like to find the one you loved the most no longer living. He would be in pain and no matter how much she'd hated him she still didn't find any joy in bringing him sadness, not like that.

This must have been Hell. She regretted it now, already. She'd been dead for only a few minutes, or so it seemed, maybe it had been a long time, either way she was already drowning in her unhappiness.

This was forever, an unending, unchanging midnight.

"Bella?"

Someone had said her name. It was a voice she recognized, yet couldn't quite place. It sounded very far away and she didn't know how to get to it.

"Isabella," the voice was more demanding now, it must really want her to respond. She didn't know how to though!

She heard a sigh. "Bella, please."

Where was the dang light for her to follow? She needed more than an unknown voice. Maybe if she wanted it enough she'd be able to find it. She just had to find that beautiful voice and the person it was attached to.

It was growing fainter though, as if the person speaking was whispering rather than simply talking. It was very frustrating, she wanted to get to where it was, and clearly that was what the voice wanted to, so why did it insist on being difficult?

Bella had made a sound, one of frustration if he wasn't mistaken. Did that mean she could hear him?

He watched her closely as her face scrunched up, her eyes tightly pressing closed before suddenly, they opened.

Edward flinched backward with a start; she'd surprised him with her sudden awakening.

For a while she seemed to stare at nothing and he wondered if she was actually conscious. Soon though, a few minutes after her initial eye opening, she turned her head and looked at him. Straight through him.

He felt as if she was seeing everything there was to see. He felt bare, he was sure that she could see his thoughts, his pain, his plan. Everything. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes seemed to be looking for something, but he didn't know what.

"What are you looking for?" he asked in a whisper.

Bella blinked at him, evidently confused. She opened her mouth to respond and found, much to her annoyance, that her throat and mouth were unbelievably dry. She tried swallowing, but it didn't do much good.

"Water," it came out as more of a croak than anything and her face turned tomato red in embarrassment. Edward couldn't have cared less; he was riding the high that had come from hearing her voice for the first time in hours that had been filled with unending agony.

He rose from the bed. "I'll be right back."

As soon as he'd gone from the room, Bella pushed herself up into sitting position and surveyed the area. Wasn't she supposed to be dead? She didn't feel dead, in fact she felt very alive. And very sore.

She glanced down at her hands, finding them well bandaged. So that really had happened then, she'd actually tried to kill herself. It seemed almost like a dream now, but she remembered it.

She remembered looking out at the snow and knowing that it would be the last thing she ever saw and she remembered how dizzy the rust and salt smell of the blood had made her, but beyond that there was nothing. That must have been when she'd lost consciousness.

Her most recent memory was of hearing the strange, musical voice calling to her. She realized now that it had been Edward who was speaking to her, he must have found her not long after she'd fallen unconscious. Had he sat with her all this time? How long had it been anyway? It felt like only minutes had passed, if that. It must have been longer than that though, she wouldn't have been as thirsty as she was if it had only been a few minutes.

Where was Edward anyway? How long did it take to get a glass of water?

Edward was actually wondering the same thing, only for a different reason. He was wondering how long he could prolong his return to Bella's room. As happy as he was to have conscious again he was also worried about how she would react to being...well, not dead. Her intention had been to escape and he had once again thwarted her attempt. The last time she'd failed in an endeavor to get away from him she'd been miserable to be around and bratty. Now, when she'd been as desperate as she could get, how would she respond?

Well, she hadn't immediately tried anything violent, but that could be from shock. She should be in shock, she'd just tried to commit suicide and had lost a good amount of blood doing it. She would need sugar and lots of liquids.

As frightened as he was to return he knew that he couldn't hold off on seeing her any longer. Bella needed him whether she wanted to admit it or not. Right now he had to take care of her, he would deal with the rest later.

That decided he made his return to her room quickly. She was sitting up in bed when he entered and her eyes were fixed on the glass he held. With a soft chuckle her held it toward her, but pulled it away again when she reached for it.

"I put a straw in there for a reason," a frown made it's way onto his face. "I don't want you to hold it."

Bella's first reaction was to glare, but she repressed it and instead leaned forward to meet Edward halfway. The water washed down her parched throat, instantly relieving the uncomfortably dry feeling.

After sitting in silence for a moment Bella glanced at Edward, wondering what she was supposed to say. He'd saved her life not once, but twice. The first time when she'd literally run away from him and now after she'd attempted to do herself in. If it wasn't for him she'd be six feet under. What did you say to someone who'd done everything they could to make you happy when all you wanted was for them to go away? She was glad that he had saved her and she needed to thank him for that, but could she?

Would he understand that she'd made huge mistake, that she owed him?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when Edward shifted and took her hand. Startled by his action she looked up into his face and was surprised to find that tears were glistening in his emerald green eyes.

"Bella," he whispered. "I am so sorry," he shook his head. "No, I am more than sorry and I don't know how to ask your forgiveness for what I've done, for what I drove you too..." he took a deep breath. "I cannot adequately describe the—the pain, the sadness that I feel. I did this to you."

She felt the need to interrupt, Edward had this completely backwards. She was the one who should be sorry, she'd tried to kill herself and though it had been in response to his actions it had still been her choice.

"Edward, this isn't your fault. Really," she paused to collect her thoughts. "What I did was...not exactly the smartest thing I've ever done. I'm not going to lie, you and your insanity had a lot to with the road I chose, but don't blame yourself completely!"

He was shaking his head before she'd finished speaking. "Please don't try to make me feel better about what I've done to you Bella. I cannot endure it, I really cannot," he kissed the hand that was still caught in is. "It is my fault and I've accepted that. I will make this right. I promise you," his eyes blazed with the intensity of his feelings. "I will fix this."

"It is not you fault!" Bella exclaimed, exasperated. She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Are you trying to make me feel worse about myself?" she held up her bandaged hands for him to see. Edward winced away from the sight. "Right here, right now I am telling you to stop with your self-loathing nonsense. I did this," she waved her arms in front of her face. "Me. Not you."

"But Bella," he whispered. "You wouldn't have done it if I..."

"Stop! No more, I don't want to hear it."

Edward fell silent, causing Bella distress was the last thing he wanted to do.

With a sigh he asked, "If I'm not to talk, will you please allow me to go and find you something to eat?"

She deliberated for a moment before answering. "Only if you promise to discontinue the theatrics," a small smile found it's way onto her face.

He nodded solemnly. "I promise," he stood and moved toward the door. "Bella, really though, I..."

"No more!"

Not quite an hour later Edward had left Bella among the books in the library, an added stipulation to her eating of dinner bargain and he was now sitting at his piano. It had been such a long time since he'd played, he almost felt guilty for neglecting his music. Esme had loved listening to his music.

In tribute to her memory he began with the song his adoptive mother had loved best, soon though it transformed into a softer, slower melody. A sort of lullaby. As the music progressed it took on a life of its own, becoming softer still. By its end Edward was feeling thoroughly depressed; the new composition had mirrored his love for Bella perfectly, as well as his sadness in knowing what was to come.

He slumped over the keys of his grand piano, his shoulders hunched, his head down. He felt drained, his playing had brought forth a nearly overwhelming sea of emotions, most of them ones he didn't want to think about. A great pain settled into the area in which his heart resided and he made no effort to dispel it. This was something he would have to endure, it would be staying with him for a long time to come. Perhaps time and acceptance would help to dull the ache or at the very least build a tolerance for it. That was as much as he was willing to hope for.

It wasn't until he straightened and prepared to stand that he heard the quite sobbing behind him. He was on his feet in an instant and at Bella's side not a moment later, trying to understand what had brought on her crying.

"I heard the music," a sniffle. "I wanted to find where it was coming from," a deep breath. "Why were you playing such a sad song?" She once again dissolved into tears as she remembered the tragic sounding ending to the piece.

Edward was at a loss as to what to say. He didn't want to upset her further by refusing to answer nor was he willing to reveal the inspiration behind the piece. He settled for something in between. "It came to me as I was playing my mother's favorite, I'm sorry it upset you as much as it did."

In the time it had taken Edward to formulate a response Bella had regained control of her emotions.

"Don't be sorry, it was beautiful. I...it reminded me of something...I'm not sure what though," she looked up at him, scrutinizing his expression.

He looked away from her, trying to avoid her questioning gaze. She always saw too much; she could see right through him. "I think you should go lay down, you lost a lot of blood," a slight shudder ran through him as he remembered the sight. "You need to rest."

Bella felt it would be best not to argue, the crying had left her feeling tired anyway. A nap would be nice. She nodded to let him know that she was in agreement with his suggestion and then made her way back to the bedroom. She could feel Edward following behind her.

Once in the room he carefully placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the bed. He tucked her in and after giving the room a once over, subtly checking for any objects that might be used for another attempt, left her to herself.

Alone again and in bed Bella tried to fall to sleep. For nearly ten minutes she laid with her eyes closed listening to the silence and still as could be, yet sleep evaded her. The reason was one she didn't want to think about.

When Edward had touched her, leading her toward the bed, her heart had gone into overdrive. She was surprised that he hadn't seemed to notice how stiff she'd been. Why had she reacted that way? Normally she'd be recoiling in disgust. Maybe it was just a fluke?

Probably a fluke.

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!