Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns all recognizable characters, plots, etc. Only original content, characters, etc. belongs to author. No copyright infringement intended. Any errors contained herein, are expressly the fault of the authors idiocy, and not her betas.

Word Count: 6993

A/N: As always, thanks to V for fixing the weird, random shit I do, and thanks to Redvelvetheaven for keeping me from fucking this whole thing up.

And thanks to everyone for continuing to read and review. My apologies for the lengthy wait between chapters as of late. Red says I can blame it on her, but I won't throw her under the bus like that. She has a lot on her plate right now, as does V, but I couldn't do this without them, so if I have to wait for them to get to my chapters, I'm willing. I only hope you all are, as well. (The next chapter is nearly ready to send to Red now, I just need to finish writing the last bit of it and do an initial edit.)

We are getting close to the end now—around four chapters left. I think.

Anyway, I'll let you go read.

Chapter 14 – You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Here I stand with head in hand
Turn my face to the wall
If she's gone I can't go on
Feeling two foot small
Everywhere people stare
Each and everyday
I can hear them laugh at me
And I hear them say . . .
. . . How can I even try?
I can never win
Seeing them, hearing them
In the state I'm in
How could she say to me
"Love will find a way"?
Gather 'round all you clowns
Let me hear you say;
Hey, you've got to hide your love away
Hey, you've got to hide your love away

- The Beatles (but I like Pearl Jam's cover a lot)

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Previously . . .

In my head, I pictured Bella standing beside me in a white dress, promising to love me forever, and my gaze locked onto her, once again. A soft smile graced my lips as I raised my eyes to her face, only to be met by an expression that was so contrary to what I was feeling, that it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs (and certainly the wind out of my sails). The look she shot me was so venomous, so full of loathing that I nearly choked on the fumes. Not wanting to earn another glare, I kept my eyes focused on the back of my brother's head, lost in thought, for the rest of the ceremony.

Her reaction to me so far throughout the day hadn't been very encouraging, but despite that and everything else I had going against me, I somehow couldn't believe that things were how they were meant to be.

…don't give the ghost up just clench your fist, you should have known by now you were on my list…

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"And now the bride and groom would like to invite their wedding party to join them for a dance."

This was it. We'd been warned about it, had been given plenty of time to get used to the idea, but none of it had helped. Knowing something hypothetically and actually having it happen are worlds apart.A mix of fear and excitement coursed through me at the announcement and, for a moment, I thought I was going to be sick.

Though internally, my mind and body were rioting, on the outside I was cool as a cucumber, managing to pretend that I wasn't eager to hold her in my arms, to feel her against me (even if it was for a single dance), and nervous that she would reject me.

"I guess we'd better . . ." I trailed off, finishing my sentence by pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. My other hand worried at the ring in the pocket of my pants.

"Right . . ." Her tone matched mine: casual reluctance with an implication of awkwardness. I could only hope that, like me, eagerness was hidden somewhere behind it, but I didn't think I was that lucky.

. . . let's dance, put on your red shoes and dance the blues . . .

Behaving as the gentleman Esme raised me to be, I rose, helped Bella from her chair, and then, after offering my arm, led her to the center of the room. The music started just as we stepped onto the dance floor, a soft spotlight suddenly shining down on us. Tension thrummed through Bella the second the beam hit us, no doubt feeling all of the watching eyes. Distracted, she continued forward after I halted, her hand sliding from my elbow down my forearm. Our palms met first, and then our eyes and I gripped her hand.

"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." The words slipped out with my breath before I could stop them.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?" Bella recited the next line automatically, gasping when she realized what she'd said.

Panic bloomed in her—What the fuck is she so afraid of?—and her eyes darted around as if worried someone had overheard. When they returned to mine, she looked ready to bolt. I needed to act fast, to let go of what had just happened, and distract her from whatever it was that had her so spooked. Luckily, at that exact moment, she hit the end of the line, brought to an abrupt halt by our arms stretched tight between us.

. . . let's dance, for fear your grace should fall . . .

She all but fell into me, my arms wrapping around her before she could stumble again, and then it was panic that was blooming on her face.

"Graceful as always, I see," I chuckled with a soft smile on my face, adding even more softly, serious now, "Relax, Bells, I've got you." And she did.

. . . let's dance, for fear tonight is all . . .

She was so close, yet still too far away, and the urge to pull her ever closer . . . always closer . . . was strong as I waltzed us around the parquet floor. I wanted it so much, but was well aware of the eyes upon us, watching intently, searching for any improprieties they could use against us; the last thing I wanted was to cause a scene. Not that I thought Char would, but who the hell knew. She hadn't been acting like herself since the night of Em and Rose's party. Her reactions were slightly off, and there was something else strange . . . but I couldn't put my finger on it.

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"I can't sit with you at the reception?" she repeated. "Why not?"

"Rose only wants the wedding party seated on the dais." Knowing my explanation wouldn't be enough, I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, 'It's her fucking wedding; I don't know why anything is the way it is, and there's nothing I can do about it regardless.'

Honestly, though, that wasn't the entire truth. Knowing Rose like I did, I was pretty sure that her not caring for mine and Bella's dates influenced—hell, inspired—the seating arrangements, but I wasn't going to voice to my suspicions.

"Right," she snorted mirthlessly. Her next words—well thought out and carefully spoken—surprised me. "Well . . . I'm not exactly thrilled about it—I'm not really going to know anyone there—but I don't have to like it; it is her wedding."

"O-okay," I stuttered, repeating what she'd said in my head, but not quite believing it.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded after taking in my dumbfounded expression.

"Just . . ." surprised, I guess, I finished in my head, keeping the words to myself. She was taking the news much better than I expected. I had anticipated a fight, or maybe I wanted a fight—I don't know—and her not giving me one definitely threw me off. Char was still looking at me, waiting for me to finish. I cleared my throat. ". . . how exactly am I looking at you, hmm?"

My tone was playful, if not a bit choked still. Charlotte noticed—a brief second of panic that I couldn't explain, flashing across her face—but she shockingly ignored it . . . which annoyed me even though it was what I had been hoping for.

"Oh, I don't know," she answered coyly.

I felt sick. It had only been a couple of days since I'd slept with Bella and I'd been keeping my distance from Charlotte, avoiding physical contact with her like the she had the plague; I just couldn't go there, couldn't do that to either of them. Just contemplating it made me feel as if I was being unfaithful to both of them simultaneously, a weird juxtaposition since Char was the only one I owed any fidelity. But then again, not really; Charlotte may have my present and presence, but Bella had my past and still had my heart.

I suddenly felt alien to myself. Just a year and a half ago, I wouldn't have batted an eye—at least not consciously—about being with two different girls in such a short time. Hell, I would have happily slept with Char the same night I slept with Bella – possibly in the cab on our way to her place and then again when we finally got there. Now look at me, how much I had changed due to Bella. But as much as I had changed, I still remained so much the same . . . the situation I found myself in with Bella and Char proof of it.

Bitterness crept up on me. I found myself both pleased with the man I'd become and disappointed about the man I still had yet to be. I didn't deserve Charlotte or Bella. Not really.

I realized then that I couldn't continue on the path I was on. Staying with Charlotte while chasing after Bella only served as proof that she had made the right decision when she left me, that I hadn't changed at all—was maybe even more of a monster than I had been back then—and that I still couldn't be trusted. And Bella possessing my heart while maintaining my relationship with Charlotte was doing the same thing to her that I had done to Bella. I could tell myself all I wanted that it was different—that Charlotte knew where my heart really lay, that I'd been honest with her from the start—but I had maintained the façade for so long, done nothing to dissuade her of my affection and, in fact, had propagated it, for long enough now that I knew it wasn't.

I still needed to tell Char about the dance, but in a sudden attack of either conscience or cowardice, I found myself unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to tell her. The way she was looking at me—with such devotion and . . . love—was too much. I couldn't be responsible for breaking two women the same way. I knew I was going to have to choose.

Bella had made it perfectly clear how she felt about me; she might have given me her body, but that was all she had given me and it had made me feel cheap and used. That must have been how I had made her feel for all those years. I couldn't fix things with her, but . . . perhaps I could still be saved. I suddenly looked at Charlotte in a different light, thinking, Maybe she can be my redemption.

At that moment, I came to a decision. I would give Bella what she wanted—I would leave her alone and let her be happy—and I would give Charlotte and me a real go.

Smiling, I shrugged off the feeling that I was making the wrong decision and took the bait. "You don't know, huh? I bet I could help you figure it out."

"I think I'm starting to get an idea, Dr. Cullen, but I could use a hint."

. . . let's sway, you could look into my eyes . . .

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I made good on my decision, locking Bella away deep in my heart and devoting myself to seeing things through with Char. I even went so far as to invite her to stay over at my place for the first time ever, letting her fully into my life. So what if it felt as if I was missing a large portion of myself? I told myself it was only because Bella had been such a large part of my being for so long that I was bound to feel her absence for a while, and that eventually Charlotte would fill that space and make me feel complete. And when I reminded myself that I hadn't felt that same hollow absence while Bella had been gone, I ignored it.

It had worked, too . . . until the second I glimpsed Bella again and then all my resolutions went to shit.

So yeah, I needed to be careful before Char caught on.

. . . and if you say run, I'll run with you . . .

My selfish, Bella-deprived side told me that if I was already in trouble, I might as well enjoy myself and do something to warrant it. However, my protective side reminded that doing so would only make Bella's life more difficult, and I couldn't fathom doing that to her. I'd caused her enough trouble already. So, I walked a wire, trying to balance somewhere between what I wanted and what was right, taking as much as I could without causing either of us any problems.

. . . and if you say hide, we'll hide . . .

At some point—entirely unbeknownst to me—I lost my balance as we got lost in each other's eyes and started to fall, and as much as we both wanted to, neither of us could look away, the pull between us was too strong. The moment seemed too big for words, but I opened my mouth to speak anyway, feeling the need to say something. Big brown eyes, solemn and reverent, widened, and with a slow, almost imperceptible shake of her head, I was silenced. I nodded, pulled her closer, and then allowed myself to relax and bask in the moment and her arms. Everything else fell away, just like it always had, leaving just her and I.

. . . because my love for you would break my heart in two . . .

Something was rising between us—and it wasn't just me—and I was certain she felt it, too. Both things. She raised her eyebrows at me in that cute way she had—she still hadn't learned how to raise just one, but it calmed me because some things never change—and gave me a wry look. Really, Edward? Now? Embarrassed to be called out on my hard-on, I had the decency to look abashed, but at the same time, I was thrilled she wasn't running from me . . . or it. I gave a slight shrug. Sorry, can't help it. And it was true – I couldn't help my body's reaction where she was involved.

. . . if you should fall into my arms and tremble like a flower . . .

Before we knew it, the song was over, the live band being replaced by the D.J., the rest of the guests were being invited to join the bride and groom on the dance floor, and Bella was suddenly slipping apologetically from my arms as she gazed at someone . . . Dickhead Dog, I assumed . . . behind me. Which of us her contrition was for to—him or me—I couldn't tell. My fingers reflexively tightened around her wrist just before it slipped from my grasp, allowing her to walk away.

I shoved my empty hands into my pockets, my right hand immediately wrapping around the ring I had secreted there and clenching it so tightly that if it hadn't already held a diamond, it would have when I was through with it. The pain of the setting slicing into my palm grounded me and helped me focus, but did little to help me regain rationality.

. . . let's dance, to the song we're playing . . .

"Why would she leave when we both know she doesn't want to?" I asked the heavens, hoping Bella would hear.

She did and she halted. Hesitating for a moment, she squared her shoulders before turning to face me with a pleasant but fake smile painted on her face.

"The song is over, Edward," she stated as if I didn't know it.

"No shit," I jeered with an edge to my voice, unable to hide my aggravation. Over her shoulder, at the edge of the wood floor, I noticed Jacob looking at us with concern, so I forcefully smoothed out my sneer into some semblance of a smile because the last thing I needed was for him to come over just then.

My brother and Rose would never forgive me for starting a brawl at their wedding reception, no matter who threw the first punch, and I was fairly certain that was exactly what would happen if he were to interrupt. A small amount of self-satisfaction bled through my mask at the thought of my fist connecting with his face, my small smile becoming bigger and more genuine, growing until it bordered on a cocksure smirk as I returned my attention to Bella.

I didn't have any charming speeches prepared, or flowery words meant to woo her back into my arms. Pshaw, as if flowery words would work. Truth be told, I didn't have a fucking clue what to say to her, so I just went with what I knew to be the truth, stating plainly, "The song might be over, Bella, but we're not."

She stiffened, her eyes clouding over and her forehead scrunching up. Her gaze left my face, shifting to look past me, and whatever she saw there caused steel shutters to slam down on her eyes and thick walls to rise between us. The suddenness with which her guard came up was a blow that nearly knocked me on my ass, but far worse was the way her next words deflated me.

"We never even started, Edward." The expression on her face was one that I'd never before seen there, so full of vehemence and choler that it nearly choked me. She turned to leave again, but I grasped her wrist, stopping her.

My smile fell, nearly disappearing completely, but I caught it and myself at the last second when I remembered who was watching. Feeling as if it were an Herculean act, my face became a study in politeness that belied the tone of my voice.

"Stop fucking lying, Isabella!" I growled. The anger surging through me needed to find an outlet, and my grip on her wrist unintentionally tightened.

"Ouch, Edward, you're hurting me; let go." I relaxed my fingers the second I heard her soft whimper, but I refused to let her go, telling myself that if she truly wished to get away from me, she wouldn't be struggling so feebly, but I wasn't sure that it wasn't another lie I was telling myself.

I bent down just enough to bring my face level with hers, wearing my earnest desperation on my sleeve, no longer caring at all who might see.

"I don't believe you, Bella. You don't even believe you. When are you going to just admit that you still feel something for me? That you don't love him?" I demanded.

We were both shaking and standing much too closely, practically touching as we snarled into one another's ear. It was surprising that we hadn't yet aroused suspicion or been interrupted, but why would anyone, excepting the few sets of eyes with reason, find anything worrisome about the Best Man and Maid of Honor having a private conversation? To most everyone, it likely appeared that we were having a reception related pow-wow. Even the scrutinizing eyes of our families and close friends couldn't really have found anything outwardly inappropriate about our behavior. I think. Mostly.

"When, Bella?" I asked again, more forcefully this time.

Her face twisted with what appeared to be either unadulterated disgust or extreme agony. Maybe I'd pushed her too far?

"The only thing I feel for you is sorry because you can't face reality. There is nothing between you and I now and, as far as I'm concerned, there never was. I am nothing more to you than your sister's best friend, and the girl you used for sex once upon a time," she spat with steel and fire, adding after a moment in a softer voice, "And I do love him . . . not that it's any of your business."

Definitely too far, but since I was already one toe over the line . . . might as well keep going. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

She turned away from me with a jerk, wresting herself free of my slackened hold and walking to him with nary a glance back at me. This conversation is not fucking over, I silently vowed, the pledge the only clear thought in my fragmented mind.

Before she could take more than a step—like a child, but still with a smile on my face so as not to alert the Pound Puppy who was still watching me with barely disguised loathing (What? Alice had them when we were kids, and I wasn't always a shitty brother.)—I flung bitter words at her back. "Keep trying to convince yourself of that, Isabella. Maybe one day you'll actually believe it."

All too soon she was far away from me and beside him. Rage clouded my mind when I saw her willingly lean into him as he wrapped her up in his arms and then held her while they briefly conversed. She was doing that shit on purpose, flaunting him in my face. Well, fine. If that was how she wanted to play it . . . game on. She allowed him to shift her to his side, wrapping her arm around his waist as he tucked her under his, and then guide her toward his assigned table and their fathers.

Hand extended in greeting, dog-boy was slobbering all over Charlie before they even reached him, and Charlie ate it up. Gripping his hand, the Chief tugged him forward into the universal 'not gay!' man-hug, complete with back slap and chest bump . . . literally giving the over-eager pup a pat on the back. The pup had to bend down—doing so without letting Bella go—to return the gesture, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the big grin on Charlie's face. Dude hadn't been gone from the table for even five minutes and Charlie looked tickled fucking pink that he'd returned! I watched, trying to shake it off, but the red haze obscuring my vision grew steadily worse.

Family don't shake hands; family gotta hug! The modified words of Tommy Boy popped into my brain, the memory of the look on Rob Lowe's face as Chris Farley embraced him took some of the stinging bitter out of the sight before me. Still, I wanted to cry or blow my brains out or . . . something. I needed to leave, but my feet wouldn't budge, so I needed a distraction . . . something . . . anything . . . to keep me from losing my shit. What I really wanted to do was go somewhere . . . over to that table . . . and punch the fuck out of something . . . preferably someone . . . but I wasn't going to let that happen.

Instead, I was going to suck it up, and be the better man. For a little while, at least, until everyone forgot about me, and I could slip away and collect myself. In the meantime, really needed that distraction.

Ask and ye shall receive . . .

My date suddenly materialized before me—not looking very happy, I might add. At best, she was a half-assed distraction as she only partially blocked my view and barely drew my attention. And just to spice things up (because some higher power . . . Loki maybe, or perhaps Eris? Better yet, Ate . . . obviously had it out for me), the moment Charlotte appeared, Bella finally chose to look back at me, craftily . . . gratingly . . . disguising it as affection for Jake. She turned into his side, wrapping her arms around his middle and lifting her chin to rest on his arm, allowing her eyes to seek me out. Taken in by her ruse, the mutt swiftly swooped in and pressed his lips to hers, lingering as long as was acceptable in her father's presence.

As much as I didn't like having to witness it, I could have tolerated it had Bella not lifted up on her toes as he pulled back, drawing their kiss out as long as possible. Bella's heels back on the ground, their lips separated and he continued chatting with the Chief while Bella squished her face against his dark suit-covered bicep. Her eyes immediately back on me and, for one unguarded, fleeting moment, I swore I saw something that looked an awful lot like regret . . . doubtful; stop imagining things . . . but she blinked, hiding her emotions once more.

The already volatile cocktail of emotions coursing through my blood was growing even more toxic the longer I watched her, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. My emotions twisted and turned inside of me, forming something new, something destructive and dark. Experiencing another shift, each emotion became negative particles, and seeing the shutters come down over the windows to my soul split the atom of my heart in two, setting off an uncontrollable chain reaction.

My splitting heart collided with my jealousy, which collided with my possessiveness, colliding with my desire, with my need, with my hurt and so on and so forth. Incapable of harnessing it, I exploded. It was my personal Hiroshima.

I was Maximus the gladiator, Hammurabi, and Shylock all rolled into one, wanting my vengeance, an eye for an eye, and my judgment and my bond. My thoughts were unforgiving and vindictive as I pulled Charlotte against me, wound myself around her, welded our lips together and then proceeded to give her the most over-the-top, ostentatious, lustful kiss imaginable . . . all while staring Bella straight in the eye. Take that! Two can play at this game.

What I had forgotten, and what the look on Bella's face reminded me, was that Maximus died for his vengeance, Hammurabi's Code was illogical, and Shylock got more justice than he desirest. I had just cut off my own foot. I was such a fucking fool.

By the time I ended the kiss with Char, Bella had mastered her emotions. The flash of hate, anger and hurt that had momentarily overtaken her were gone, and in their place was a small, contented smile that would have been believable if it weren't for the distraction in her unseeing eyes as she gazed off into space. A cursory glance told me that no one else noticed the showdown that had just taken place, and I smiled. However, it was a hollow kind of satisfaction and my spirits plummeted back to the gutter where they belonged.

I was abruptly yanked back into the here and now, my focus pulled away from Bella, by Charlotte, standing right in front of me with a face-splitting grin, jabbering on about something or other; I wasn't listening, as usual. She was so close to me that she eclipsed Bella in my sight (but never in my eyes), and I found myself leaning from side to side, trying to see around her, but she matched me move for move until I finally had no choice but to give in.

". . . haven't heard a word I just said, have you? Edward? Hello. . . earth to Edward. Come in, Edward," she taunted, the pissy pre-kiss expression slowly returning.

"Hmmm? What was that?" I responded, still distracted.

Char huffed, pulling a way a bit and crossing her arms. Annoyance surged through me and I just barely managed to keep myself from snapping at her. Instead, I took a deep breath, holding it as I allowed myself a final, longing glance at Bella from over Char's shoulder. Shaking my head to clear it as I slowly exhaled, I brought my focus and eyes back to Charlotte.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I just spaced off. You were saying."

"I was wondering what in the hell brought that on . . . not that I'm complaining or anything; it was just unexpected."

I didn't know what to say. I certainly couldn't tell the truth. I kissed you in retaliation for Bella cozying up to her boyfriend in front of me. Yeah, that definitely wouldn't have gone over well. Putting on my most charming smile, I fed her a line. "Oh, you know – gotta keep you on your toes. Would you like to dance?"

She blushed prettily—although she had nothing on Bella's—and extended her hand. "I'd love to."

Longest three and a half minutes of my life. I pulled her off the floor as soon as the song was over, citing needing to prepare to give my best man's speech as my excuse why I needed to run. Truthfully, I just couldn't stand being so near her with my hands on her in such a familiar way in front of Bella. Luckily, I didn't have to do so for long. Just minutes after having replaced Bella with Charlotte in my arms, Alice discreetly warned the wedding party that we were needed back to our table.

With an apologetic look and shrug of my shoulders, I reluctantly led Char back to her seat near my parents before making my way back to the front of the room. Speeches were made, toasts were given, the cake was cut—no, Em did not smash cake in her face, to my disappointment—and then the guests were encouraged to get down. Through it all—no matter what I was doing, whom I was with, or where I was at in the room—my attention remained fixed on Bella, plotting, waiting, anticipating the moment I could finally get her alone to continue our conversation. I had the patience of a saint for waiting as long as I had.

More than an hour after we parted ways, I saw her quietly slip from the room after speaking with my sister, leaving through a door hidden in the wood paneled wall.

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. . . no, I can't forget this evening or your face as you were leaving, but I guess that's just the way the story goes . . .

Standing across from Bella throughout the ceremony, listening to vows that I almost certainly would never get to say to her, had been the best—or worst—reminder of everything I'd forfeited because I was a fucking fool. And then dancing with her, holding her so close, and having to pretend that none of it meant anything . . . The way she'd gazed at me with that expression on her face that made me believe that she felt the exact same way . . . Wrong again, dipshit. Throughout the day, all of these moments had piled on top of me, burying me so deeply that it was hard to breathe and Bella was the only one who could make it right, so I went to her.

. . . you always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows, yes, it shows . . .

I made my way over to the hidden door as quickly as I could without drawing any undue attention, and slipped through it just in time to see Bella disappear around a corner at the far end of the long hallway. A quick look around to assure that no one I knew was near, and I set off, all but sprinting to catch up to her. Bella moved decisively through the catacomb-like maze of halls, while I trailed after her, staying just far enough back to not be caught. We really needed to have this conversation alone, so I couldn't go revealing my cards—or myself—too soon.

She eventually came to a stop outside of a generic hotel room door, pulling a key card out of the tiny purse thing hanging from her wrist and swiping it through the key reader while I hovered silently around the corner, watching and waiting. The moment she entered the room, pulling the door closed behind her, I made my way over to it . . . to her. I allowed myself a brief smile when I saw that it hadn't closed all the way; she was making catching her alone much easier than I hoped.

As much as I wanted to seize the moment and rush inside—guns a blazin', so to speak—I forced myself to exercise caution. After all, I didn't know if she was alone. So, I hesitated just outside pressing my ear against the crack and listening intently for any sign that she had company. Only when I was as sure as I could be that she was alone, did I hold my breath, say a quick prayer to the patron saints of ex-lovers, unrequited love and stalkers . . . do they even exist? Has to be; there is a patron saint for everything . . . close my eyes, and creep inside.

Stepping inside the room, I froze with my hand still on the door knob, just waiting for . . . something. When the shrieking didn't come, no objects were thrown at me, and I hadn't been attacked, I opened my eyes and stared into the . . . empty room? Dude, some tracker you are. You did creep into the correct room, right? I flipped the Doubting Thomas in my head the bird because it was so not the time for that shit, and took inventory of the sitting room and adjacent dining area of what appeared to be a rather nice suite just as Bella stepped out of an unnoticed doorway on the far side of the room.

I braced myself for her reaction to seeing me, but her eyes passed right over me as she turned away, fully focused on her task and completely oblivious to my presence. Her back to me and lost in her own thoughts, she made her way to the teak credenza at the back of the room to search through the assortment of bags and girly clutter littering it. I stared at her eagerly, indulging in the opportunity to observe her unawares; she was so completely natural and just . . . herself, and it was beautiful. What the fuck? What is she, the honeybadger being observed in her natural habitat? This isn't the Discovery Channel. Yeah, but if it was, you know what you would be doing . . .

. . . you and me baby ain't nothing but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel . . .

Shut the fuck up, self!

A barely audible sound in the previously silent room hit my ears—a soft humming broken up by muttered curses and grumbles—putting a halt to my anthypophora. I nearly chuckled, it was just so Bella—my Bella—but there was something familiar about the tune that kept me from enjoying more. As I listened intently, trying to figure out what she was humming, I noticed how at ease she seemed to be for the first time all day and I almost left right then, loathe to ruin the small bit of peace she appeared to have found. And then the name of the tune popped into my head; I shut the door behind me, the sound of it ringing out like a gunshot in the room.

She had been humming the lullaby I wrote for her. I felt like an idiot for not recognizing it immediately—I knew that song better than I knew the sound of my own voice, and what kind of idiot doesn't know his own song?—but I chalked it up to distraction, both her and her muttering.

Bella froze, but didn't turn around. She didn't need to. Her hands moved to the edge of the table and she took a deep breath, bracing herself.

"Edward," she said resignedly. I smiled, knowing that she still felt our connection too, that I wasn't the only one.

"Bella," I replied.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"I think we've said everything we need to say." She finally turned around to face me. "You need to leave, Edward," she commanded, eyeballing me. When I made no move to obey, she added with an annoyed huff, "Now."

Despite the distance between us, I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from reaching for her. My mouth was suddenly dry and I licked my lips before hoarsely responding, "No."

"Edward, you need to go. I'm not doing this—" she gestured back and forth between the two of us, "—so just leave me alone. We are through, okay? You've, yet again, made that more than apparent, and I've moved on. Just go; there's nothing left to talk about." The tiniest little waver to her voice taught me hope again, but it disappeared with another angry huff from her.

"Fine. You know what? I'll just go, then. Rosalie didn't really need her Goddamned garter anyway. She'll just have to learn to live with disappointment like everyone else."

She stormed towards the door, snatching her purse up from an armchair as she passed, not thinking about the fact that I stood between her and the door. Her steps faltered the moment she realized her mistake, but it was too late, I already had my arms wrapped around her, holding her against my chest.

Bella was a statue, stiff and unresponsive in my arms. I didn't like it. I desperately needed something from her—anger, glibness, spite . . . hell, I'd even take her tears as much as it killed me to see her cry. Anything was better than the cold, marble nothing I was getting.

I needed a moment to gather myself and figure out what to do, so I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in and savoring the heady scent while tightening my arms around her for a moment. She was intoxicating. I pressed my face further into her flesh and partook of the bouquet until I felt drunk on the perfume of her, the feel of her; I became a hedonistic being and gave in to my baser desires.

A soft, open mouthed kiss to the base of her neck and then I was tracing a line up the length of it to nuzzle into that spot behind her ear where her scent was always most potent. I placed an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, flicking the tip of my tongue out to taste her, and a soft breath of a moan slipped from her lips. The corners of my mouth turned up. I knew she wasn't as immune as she had been pretending.

My delight was only momentary, because in the next second she wrenched herself free, whirled around launched herself at me . . . and I will strike down uponthee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy . . . unleashing years of repressed anger and hurt upon me as if seeking to take her retribution from my hide . . . a pound of flesh is thine . . . I couldn't deny her that, so I didn't. I took every slap, every strike, every blow, as a litany of charges rained down upon me; one for each hit I took.

Smack.

"That's for fucking Tanya!"

Slap.

"For two fucking years!"

Slap. Thwack.

"While you were sleeping with me!"

Smack.

"That's for lying to me!"

She was rapidly approaching hysterical, and I needed to calm her down before she lost it; we did still have a wedding and dates to return to . . . unfortunately.

Slap.

"Bella," I said, trying to get her attention as I attempted to restrain her again before she hurt herself with her wilder growing swings.

"And that's for breaking my heart!"

That just pissed me off. She was acting as if my heart wasn't broken, like she wasn't still breaking it.

Thwack.

"And that's for having a girlfriend!" she wailed, sobbing tearlessly at this point.

Hypocrite!

Both fists came down on my chest with a dull thud, and I wrapped my fingers tightly around her wrists before she could pull them away to wind up again, my own anger sharpening my reflexes. I had her trapped so swiftly that Bella was already halfway through shouting the next item on the long list of my crimes against her before she realized it.

"And that's for . . . "

"That's enough, Isabella!" I shouted, shaking her.

. . . no, I can't forget tomorrow when I think of all my sorrows . . .

Her mouth snapped shut to keep her from biting her tongue as I shook her, and I decided to call her out on her bullshit. I could admit that I'd fucked up a lot—I knew that now—but she wasn't blameless.

. . . when I had you there but then I let you go . . .

"You're such a fucking hypocrite. You were with him long before there was anything between Charlotte and me, so don't even go there," I warned, surprised but pleased by the guilt that flashed in her eyes even if it was only briefly.

. . . and now it's only fair that I should let you know what you should know . . .

"And stop acting like you're the only one who got hurt. Fuck, Bella! You're still hurting me – every time you avoid me, every time you push me away, every cutting remark you make, and every time I see you with him, letting him touch you, kiss you . . . If you think that doesn't hurt me, well . . . you're fucking wrong.

"I know I fucked up! I know this, but you . . . you never even gave me the chance to fix it, to make it up to you and prove that I could be the kind of man that deserves you. And I would do that, Bella. I would spend every single day of forever proving that to you. Just give me the chance to prove it to you . . ." I trailed off, not having a clue how to go about doing that.

Bella licked her lips, drawing my eyes and thoughts to them, until they were all I could see, all I could think of. Suddenly, I knew how to prove myself. Or maybe I was justifying my next actions?

. . . I can't live if living is without you . . .

Releasing her hands, I grasped her shoulders and yanked her to me, trapping her hands against my chest between us. One arm slid down her back, anchoring her to me, while the other moved up to grip her hair and bring her mouth to mine. I kissed her hard and fast, slow and soft. I teased her unresponsive lips with my teeth and tongue and mouth until her hands stopped trying to push me away and instead grabbed onto my shirt and pulled me closer.

When she began kissing me back, I knew I was lost.

. . . I can't live, I can't give any more . . .

I pulled away a little, breaking the kiss. Gasping, I warned her, "Bella, if you want me to stop, you have to tell me now. I don't think . . . I won't be able to if we continue."

.

~∞Ѿ∞~

.

Songs Used
(In Order of Appearance):
Let's Dance, David Bowie
Without You, Harry Nillson (and countless others)
Bad Touch, The Bloodhound Gang

Chapter Notes:
1. And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. … Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" – Act I, Scene V, Romeo and Juliet

2. Family don't shake hands; family's gotta hug! – from the film Tommy Boy, theoriginal line is, 'Brothers don't shake hands, brothers gotta hug!' Edward

3. Loki – full explanation is too convoluted, but for the purpose of this story, we'll simplify, he's the Norse God of mischief. (May also be a jötunn (race of giants) or both. For a full explanation, look it up.)

4. Eris – the goddess or spirit (daimona) of strife, discord, contention and rivalry. Often represented specifically as the daimon of the strife of war, who haunted the battlefield and delighted in human bloodshed. The golden apple of discord is associated with her. Known to the Romans as Discordia.

5. Ate – daughter of Eris and goddess of delusion, infatuation, blind folly, rash action and reckless impulse who led men down the path to ruin. Her power was countered by her sisters, the Litai (Prayers), who follow her around and clean up her messes.

3. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy [my brothers, and you will know my name is the Lord when I set my vengeance upon thee.] – Ezekiel 23;17 (famously used in the film Pulp Fiction by Samuel L. Jackson)

4. …a pound of flesh is thine… - Portia, Act 3, The Merchant of Venice

Fic Rec's:
A Cracked and Clouded Mirror, justaskalice
Tantum, Bitter Shade
The Girl, Dolly3078
A Matter of Heart, TheRealRachelGreen
His Bite, mpg
Open Up Next to You, LJSummers
Empty Bloom, ineedyoursway
Blessed Are the Forgetful,
Repudiation, Mortissues
The Cellar, iambeagle
Glimmer Darkly, Rochelle Allison