A/N: And now for some major angst. Ready? You better be.

I can't believe I forgot last chapter: Shanda! Love you, doll.

At the bottom, I'll explain why it's taken so long. ;D

Credit: Jess for her lovely part in this story. The Cake Eaters for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie. All the lyrics in this chapter are the property of Blue October.

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

Chapter Eleven: The July Fourth Incident of 2010

Isabella Swan - Age Nineteen

"Well, I don't see anything physically wrong with you other than the bruise," Carlisle said, snapping off his gloves. I rolled my shirt down and sat back on the couch. He looked into my eyes, "And you're sure you didn't hit yourself on anything?" I nodded silently, rubbing my hands down my arms self consciously. "Well, there's always many things that aren't seen with the naked eye," he sighed, pulling off his glasses and depositing them on the coffee table.

We were in the Cullen living room, with Edward pacing behind the couch I was sitting on, making me want to turn around and slap him to get him to stop moving. But I stayed put, letting the man who had became my second father throughout the years think. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back up at me and started talking. "I've seen bruises this bad associated with leukemia patients -"

The room was suddenly spinning. I could tell that Edward wasn't pacing anymore, but stunned into stillness and silence like myself. Seeing that the color had drained from both of our faces, Carlisle quickly tried to amend his words. "Now, don't jump to anything yet," he held up his hands, with his palms out, like he was surrendering, "I'm only telling you what I know. Cancer could be crossed out with a blood test. And with the same sample, we can look for anything unusual,"

His voice was like that of any doctor, comforting and reassuring. He had been trained to sound like this, to make the patient feel like they were welcome and should trust them. I had never felt so sick in my life.

Cancer? I could have cancer?

~*~*~

Renee and I picked Grandma Jo up from Houston-Hobby International Airport on July third at exactly 11:41 in the morning. I knew this only because I was annoying my mother by asking if Jo's plane was in yet, if she could see the flight number on the board, if that was Grandma Jo, right there. So when I saw her red-gray hair through the crowd of people coming down the stairs, I practically bowled her over.

"Why, look at you!" Jo exclaimed, hugging me never too tight against her. She smelled like strong perfume and makeup powder and my childhood. She held me out at shoulder length and examined me in a way that didn't make me blush because this was Grandma Jo, and she did this to everyone. "Darlin' look how pretty you've gotten! Not like you weren't beautiful before," she winked at me and I quickly took hold of her carry-on bag.

Only when I swiftly took the handle from her hands did she notice the way I moved. She hadn't seen me since I was sixteen, but my FA had been bad even then. "Isabella," Jo said, a breathless astonishment lacing her tone. When I looked up from my hands at her, she had her hand over her heart. "Dear God and Heaven above!" And she threw her arms around me again, and whispered thanks to God and Jesus, while I silently placed Edward's name between her words.

"Mama!" Renee was suddenly there, affectively averting Grandma Jo's attention for now. There was comfortable chatter from Grandma and Renee as I searched along the moving belt until I found Grandma's big black suitcase. I could only tell the difference from the bright yellow ribbon she tied to the handle. I lugged it from the conveyor belt and pulled up the handle before rolling over to them.

"Really, Mom, how long are you staying?" Renee asked as she took in the tank that was the suitcase behind me.

"Oh, I guess I like bein' prepared, Renee!" Grandma Jo replied, her eyes lingering on me as I wheeled everything out to Renee's car. "So, Bella, dear," she started when we were safely buckled in and on our way home.

"Hmm?" I responded from the backseat, looking out the window for a moment. Here comes the long, two-hour drive.

"Even the religious woman I am, I know that my prayin' didn't get you so better." She looked at me in the rearview mirror and I felt my face heat up.

Thankfully, my mom came to the rescue and spoke for me. "Well, Bella's got herself a little lovesick puppy dog," she began, and I blushed a deep shade of red, "who you know as Edward Cullen,"

"That boy across the street, now?" Jo asked and I nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"Uh huh," Renee continued, "The story's long, and I probably only know half of it, but Edward did some research with the help of his father, who, as you know, is the chief of medicine at the hospital, and suddenly, we found that he was a match for a stem cell transplant. When Bella went in for her heart surgery, they did the transplant and she got better faster than anyone expected."

I tried to stay silent for the rest of the trip home, only adding my two cents when it was needed. Instead, I let my mind work at full speed as I tried to think ahead. Carlisle told Edward and I it would take almost a month to get the results back because Constance didn't have the most up-t0-date laboratory and my blood samples had to be shipped to Houston to be examined. The bruise on my back was yellowing around the edges, but otherwise was still as black and painful as the night of the reunion was.

Cancer.

Evil, horrible, terrifying word. Never as scary until the prospect of it being directed at you, that you might die of this painful thing that takes over your body. I'd lived eleven years thinking I was going to die until Edward finally smacked my denial right in the face and turned my view of life around.

Even after all of that, those long years of nervous system degeneration and the pain in my feet and the problems with my heart and the emotional torture I went through, I would have lived it all over again. These weeks of waiting to see whether or not I had cancer was far, far worse than years with Friedreich's Ataxia.

I'd have to go through chemotherapy. I'd lose my hair. My hand unconsciously reached to my shoulder and pulled the silky strands through my fingers, over and over again until all the tangles were gone. I hadn't cut my hair since I was seventeen, and now it fell to the middle of my back. Edward loved my hair. And I loved it when he threaded his fingers through it and kissed me.

If I really thought about it, if I took into account all the symptoms I knew about leukemia - the fatigue, the bruising, the paleness, and weakness - then I could pick out little things about me that pointed towards that horrid diagnosis. I'd been pretty worn out, and normally I would have thrown that up to the mind-blowing sex with Edward. But what if? The bruise was the worst I had ever seen before in my life. I'd always been pretty pale. Had I gotten paler, or was that my imagination?

But I knew that if I went looking for these things, I was bound to find them.

Cancer.

~*~*~

Edward Cullen - Age Nineteen

Cancer.

Oh God, no. Not Bella.

When I saw her on Fourth of July morning, I was determined to not think about our troubles, at least for today. Her grandmother had been kind enough to invite my family over for their little event of BBQ food and illegal fireworks that Emmett bought from a friend on his side of town and Charlie pretended not to notice because even a cop liked good fireworks.

Bella waved from the crack in her front door at 9:22 in the morning, and I didn't care whether or not it was twelve hours until we would be setting off fireworks. I headed over to her, quickly wrapping my arms around her waist. She stepped fully out onto the porch and shut the rickety door behind her. I leaned in to kiss her and she welcomed me warmly and for a moment, I was able to forget about everything we've been through and what we may have to face, and just be with Bella and kiss her.

"Edward . . ." She sighed, and I noticed for the first time the purple bags under her eyes and her eyelids rimmed with red.

"What's wrong?" It felt like someone was squeezing my heart to the point of exploding and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Bella let out a sob and buried her face in my chest, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of my shirt. I kissed her hair, unsure what to do while she cried except for hold her and hope to whatever was listening that I wasn't going to lose her.

Why her, dammit? I wanted to scream. My arms tightened around her, as if that would stop anything more from hurting her. I kissed her head again, and wished I could stop everything and just make it better.

Goddammit.

"What are we going to do?" I caught between one of her cries and I wanted to say something - anything - but couldn't find my voice or an answer. There wasn't an answer that would make her feel better, anyway, so I simply held her and kissed her skin where she let me.

She had just allowed me access to her lips when the front door behind her swung open, and there stood Good Ol' Grandma Jo, just as I remembered her. She had lighter hair than Renee, but the resemblance was there. I'd never seen pictures of Bella's grandfather, so I wouldn't know whether or not Renee looked like him or Jo. But this woman, with her love for chunky belts and jewelry and the welcoming wrinkles both from age and smiling on her face would be what I imagined Renee to look like in about thirty years.

"Edward. It's good to see you!" She threw herself between her granddaughter and I, giving me a squeeze around the torso that I returned. One glance at Bella's guilt-ridden face and I knew she hadn't told anyone.

I was at a war inside. I knew what was right - that Bella should have let her family know that she could possibly have cancer. I knew what she wanted - to not have Renee flip a shit and get all protective like she had Bella's entire life. And we all knew Charlie would just internally revert even further until he just stopped expressing any kind of emotion.

So I kept my mouth sewn shut, letting the information eat away at me until I was sure there was a gaping whole where my heart should be.

Alice showed around four o'clock, doting even more clothes for everyone so she was sure we all had at least ten pieces of her own, personal designs. I'll admit, she had an affinity for dress shirts that I quickly snagged up and thanked her for.

She gave me a knowing look and a kiss on the cheek, murmuring a "Thank you," in my ear. No one noticed.

At some point, I found myself alone in Bella's room. The family downstairs had decided that, instead of staying home and barbequing like every year, they were going to go to the town 4th of July event. There was a band playing that I had forgotten the name to, but Bella had practically screamed when she heard they were here, in this tiny town.

I stood in front of her desk for a moment, staring at the little trinkets that had become part of Bella. A delicate chain with a ring on it. Half of a pumpkin gum eraser. A chipped, uneven bowl that she made in ceramics freshman year before her hands got too bad, filled with pencils and pens that had probably never been used, even now. The corner of a worn and personal journal that my hands made their way to.

This was wrong, opening this cover and reading Bella's words. She didn't write like a normal person would in a diary. The first date told me she started this journal at the beginning of sophomore year. She'd gotten into tearing and cutting pictures out of magazines and pasting them onto the pages, scrawling out little captions to explain her reasoning. This would be the only way for her to keep a diary without causing pain to her fragile hands.

As I flipped through, I learned of her depression in junior year. She had taken half a bottle of Charlie's blood pressure medication before chickening out and forcing herself to purge only two minutes after swallowing. She'd written down the exact time she'd taken them - 4:27 PM. Two pages later was just angry black scribbles and stains of saltwater. I skipped this section completely, my head starting to throb at the thought of losing my Bella.

Just after senior year, something turned around for her. She seemed almost determined to write entire passages, her writing looking like a lie detector test. For nine pages, she just wrote lyrics from songs I'd never heard:

"Blue skies,
Calling on blue skies
Don't take them away, boys. . . ."

"Now here we are,
We're licking skin to wipe us clean.
Strike a match, pour gasoline,
Ditch the scene, and watch the city burn. . . ."

"I dreamt you seduced me just to walk away.
I dreamt you inspired then rewired what I say.
I dreamt you spread you bottom wings and pulled me to the bed,
But I woke up feeling nauseous, you danced around my head. . . ."

And suddenly, I realized, as I turned the page, that those lyric chunks were from last year, right after our time in my secret area. I smiled, so glad I had been able to make her feel like these verses.

And then they changed drastically, but the dates were strange. These dates were from before her heart surgery, and only one after.

"I kick the daydream,
And remain independently happy.
I'm independently, I'm independently,
But you know, I'm still working on happy. . . ."

"I wish I could go to sleep
And wake up with amnesia. . . ."

"A heartbeat skip, relationship,
Inside a bubble bath
An icing drip below your lip,
So we undo the math. . . .
I might crumble, I might fall again,
Still missing you. . . ."

And her longest:

"Learning to love life by living through loss and mistakes,
Lessons learned, then gradually surfacing,
Letting go, stripping naked to scream.
I am not perfect, nor do I strive to be,
I am alive in this world of face-first falls and public breakdowns.
I'm a Retarded Disfigured Clown,
Dying to be heard for the simple art of letting this heavy wall finally fall.
I'm an equal being, of no race or color,
A hallucination, if you will.
Sneaking into the lives of strangers, and letting them fall apart, to a new rhythm,
Just to feel better."

"What are you doing?"

I slapped the journal shut and dropped it like it burned my fingers at the sound of Bella's voice from the doorway. I looked up at her, guilt clogging my throat and a radiant blush covering my cheeks.

She walked over, and picked up her notebook. "Were you reading this?" She didn't even wait for an answer. "Edward, this is private," her voice, so thick with hurt made a knife twist inside my gut. She threw the book across the room, knocking her alarm clock off her nightstand, her hands going to fist at her sides. Not looking up at me, she stood trembling, looking so vulnerable standing there, like I'd taken off her clothes and skin and left her exposed to everything.

"Bella, I'm sorry . . ." I whispered, and moved to touch her, but she flinched away.

"I hope you found what you were looking for," Bella snapped, and then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

Even as I'd been caught red-handed, reading her clandestine and personal thoughts, I itched to pick up her diary again and write down those lyrics. But I forced myself from her room, planning on searching her out. Instead, Alice was standing in the hallway, waiting for me.

"You're the only one I can trust with this information, but I plan on loosening up my sister a bit tonight, okay? I brought some Italian liquor that Jasper introduced me to; the stuff's amazing."

I just stared at her, unsure what I should say or do with this news. "And?"

"And you're going to take her home and ruffle her feathers like you've never done before, because she deserves it - and you two are hiding something big, again, from all of us, so you both need to keep your minds on each other for right now."

When I continued to stand there like an idiot, she rolled her eyes as exasperatingly said, "Just keep an eye on her and the first time she makes a move for you, take her home." And then she walked away, too.

Running my hands through my hair, I made my way down the stairs. In the living room, I looked for Bella, but she was gone. When I asked about her, Charlie told me she went for a walk with a pointed glare that blatantly read "Fix this."

Before anyone could stop me, I was across the street and in my Volvo. There was no way I was going to let this boil over. I found her on the road towards the lake and pulled over on the side of the road, pulling the keys out and running over to get to her side.

For a while we just walked, the tension sizzling between us. Bella was the first to break the silence, and what she said completely kicked me mentally.

"I think we have too much sex,"

What? The sex was incredible - there had never been a woman that could make my fingertips burn just by the simplest touch. Being connected with her rendered me breathless. And she thought we were having too much? I could never get enough! Was it not as good for her as it was for me.

"Please, elaborate," I said a little bit hysterically. I had to admit, going longer than two weeks without some sort of intimacy with Bella would need me in rehab.

She thought for a long while, and we turned down the dirt road towards the lake. "I just want our relationship based on something more than the sex. You saved my life, Edward. I don't want you thinking I'm only with you because you gave me my first orgasm."

"I did?" I found myself saying, like a typical horny boyfriend. Well, that made me feel . . . How did that make me feel? Either she tried giving herself one and it didn't work, or she just never tried.

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "You mean a lot to me, Edward." She whispered, and moved closer to me. Her arms were still crossed under her chest, but she was closer. And at this point, that's all I could ask for.

"I'm really sorry for reading your journal, Bella," I told her, trying to get her to look at me, but she seemed set on keeping her eyes straight ahead. The gravel crunched under our shoes in the lull of conversation. "I'm not mad, or anything you're probably thinking, at you."

"I don't think you're mad at me," she explained, but when I waited, she didn't continue.

"Then what?"

"You're not disappointed? That I've considered, and even tried, to commit . . . Suicide?" The word burned my ears as much as it hurt her to say it.

"Of course not."

"You're not upset that, even after a prospect of getting a life, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to even live? You're not mad that, at the age of thirteen, I got the courage to pull that goddamned trigger, but Charlie had taken away his bullets, so I couldn't do it? You're not mad that I knew you spied on me went we were younger and awkward, and I didn't scream at you? You're not mad that I've had dreams of smothering Renee just to shut her up?"

"No," I answered immediately.

Bella stopped and turned to me, resting her hands on my chest, but keeping me half and arm-length away. "Why?"

The question was simple, and the answer was even easier. Because I love you. That's why.

"I love you, just the way you are, Bella," I said.

Her eyes spilled over with tears and she buried her face in my shirt, breaking the space between us. I sighed in relief, wrapping my arms around her. She cried for two minutes before I picked her up and cradled her to me. Closer to the dock, I danced with her in my arms, and after a few minutes, she started laughing, and I started laughing. She played with my hair, and I pretended to drop her, and I knew that this was what we were.

I fell back in a patch of grass and she laid her head on my stomach, staring up at the blue sky. "I love you, too, you know," she whispered, and I twisted a strand of her silky hair around my finger.

"Do you really think we have too much sex?" I asked hesitantly. I earned a hysterical laugh from her chest, and she shook her head, telling me there was no way she was going to live for longer than a week without me.

She could last longer than me, then.

~*~*~

Ugh.

Why had I drunk so much last night? Well, I hadn't, but I didn't realize the kind of stuff Alice had brought - Italian white liquor. I didn't even know they had made that kind of alcohol. My throat still burned from it.

There was a sigh next to me in the bed. Hopefully Bella hadn't drank any of that stuff. As of what I knew, she had never been drunk.

I pealed open my eyes and sat up in the bed, finding myself completely naked, next to the pale, warm body of . . .

Alice?!

A/N: ;D Cliffy.

I was going to put a whole 4th of July scene in, but I didn't want to. Too much, too much, too much!

Now, to explain. One, I'm going to start a new story. Don't hit me, but I'll let you know when the prologue and the first chapter are up. I'm liking it, but I'm not going to give up on Remembering Sunday.

Two, I went to the Bite of Las Vegas (yes, I live in Viva Las Vegas, babies!) with my friend, and we enjoyed the best concert ever. Who, you ask? Why, none other than Blue October. That's right, and it only cost eight bucks. The show was amazing; never before had I thought a man who was married, whore eyeliner and nail polish, and had a kid, was sexy. Justin, you're sexy. No doubt about it. I got a guitar pick, and met Matt and Ryan (bassist and violinist/violist) and they signed my "Dirt Room" bag. I technically was within five feet of Jeremy, Justin's brother, but I didn't realize it was him until he was gone. My friend knows the band personally, so this ought to be fun.

Now, for those of you who have only heard Blue October's singles, you need to go buy their CD's, because they're so dark and deep and just a story of a guy's life in music and lyrics. Depression beyond belief, and when Stephenie Meyer said "you have no choice but to feel the emotion in the songs," she was 100% correct. Go listen, my pretties.

Please Review!

-R.I.