"We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land.

It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other,

to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is:

each the other's opposite and complement."

- Hermann Hesse -

The Moon and The Tide

"What was his name?"

Sammy's voice was careful, but curious. I gave her a quick glance, trying to keep my expression neutral, as I filled the coffee machine. "What makes you ask that?"

She shrugged, adjusting her apron. "Nothing. It's just that...well, you've stopped smiling. And also...I can sort of recognize a broken heart. Takes one to know one."

I glanced at her again, frowning. "What do you mean?"

She gave me a sad smile. "My boyfriend broke up with me two days ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugged again. "I'm sorry, too. But, you know, these things happen." She turned to look across the café, nodding toward a young man standing next to a table and taking an order from a customer; the guy was our new waiter. He'd started two days ago, replacing one of the part-time waitresses.

"So," Sammy said, giving me a small smile. "You or me?"

"You or me, what?"

"Come on, Bella. If you don't ask him out, I will."

I gave a soft laugh and shook my head, turning my back to the coffee machine and wetting a rag. "First of all, we're working. Second of all, finding a rebound doesn't solve anything, and they usually mess you up even more. And third...do you really want to get involved with someone you work with?"

She rolled her eyes. "You think way too much. And also, you're way too sensible and prudent. Actually, I sometimes find it hard to believe you're only twenty-five. Sometimes, you seem like you're at least forty-five. Mentally."

I gave her a sad smile and began to wipe the counter clean, not bothering to explain why her comment made me a bit sorrowful. I nodded toward the new waiter – his name was Josh, if I remembered correctly – and flicked Sammy another glance.

"By all means, go for it. But if you just broke up with your boyfriend two days ago, I'd wait for the emotional roller coaster to come to a stop first."

She shrugged. "It already stopped. In fact…well, there's a part of me that feels a little broken-hearted, but to be entirely honest, I'm not sure if there was any awful roller coaster ride in the first place."

I frowned. "Really? How long were you two together?"

"About a year. I know, you think I'm weird. A year is a long time to be with someone, and I shouldn't be over him after just two days. But to be honest...I only feel relief now. Our thing was over a long time before either of us even brought up that we should part ways. Our relationship was...unhealthy. It wasn't going anywhere, and we both knew it. We wanted different things, and you should never be with someone who wants different things than you. If you're going to share your life with someone, there has to be something that binds you together. You can't build a bridge over a chasm, if you don't have anything to build with."

I sighed and put away the rag. "I know." A little too well.

After washing my hands, I grabbed a tray and went to collect empty cups from the tables, wanting to get away from her words. They were too honest, her words. Too true. They opened a deep wound inside me, a wound that had slowly – too slowly – begun to close. It hadn't done it by itself. I'd had to force it closed, and I knew I didn't have the strength to do it again.

I also knew I shouldn't be counting the days...but I was. It had been seventeen days since he had left. Seventeen days, and it felt like a year.

I spent the rest of my shift trying to ignore the way Sammy was watching the new waiter, trying to ignore the way he reacted when he noticed it. I tried not to listen to their innocent, light flirting as the hours passed on, tried not to see how Josh grinned at her when she made a not-so-innocent comment about men wearing aprons. When closing time eventually came, I let out a sigh of relief.

After bidding them goodnight, glad I would no longer have to witness their budding affection for each other – at least not tonight – I made my way to the parking lot. I threw a glance over my shoulder, noticing Sammy and Josh were heading to the small pub across the street. I saw Josh smile and open the door for her like a real gentleman, but the moment was kind of ruined, when a group of three men poured out of the pub, all of them laughing loudly. It was clearly a Saturday.

Sighing quietly, I headed toward my truck, about to take out my keys, when a loud, drunken voice shouted out, "Hey! Sweetheart!"

I stopped at the sound of his familiar voice, whirling around in shock and surprise.

The three men who'd just come out of the pub were making their way across the street. As they passed a lamp post, and I saw them more clearly, I got confirmation that I hadn't been imagining things just now. It was him. If he hadn't called out my name like that, I probably wouldn't have recognized him.

He'd cut his hair. It used to be shoulder-length – he'd always worn it in a neat ponytail – but now, his brown hair was cropped short.

"James." His name came out as a tired sigh. I shook my head and turned away, determined to get to my truck before he'd reach me. I hadn't seen him in months – what was he doing here? Had he been waiting for me? Was that why he had been hanging out in that pub? He knew where I worked, after all.

"Hey! Hey, Bella! Wait up! Come on, Bells!"

I heard quick, slightly uneven steps behind me, and I threw a glance over my shoulder.

"What do you want?" I asked, refusing to stop.

Apparently, James had other ideas. As I felt him grab my arm, I whirled around, sparing a quick glance at his two friends, who were hanging back and grinning stupidly. It was obvious they'd had a couple of beers as well, but they seemed more lucid than James.

"What do you want?" I asked again, relieved when he let go of my arm. "Just spit it out and quit wasting my time."

"Aw, come on," he slurred. I had to take a step back and wrinkle my nose; his breath smelled like vodka. "I just saw you come out of the café, and I thought I'd say hi."

"Okay. Hi. And now, goodbye." Without waiting for his answer, I turned around and took out my keys.

"Hey, don't be so rude! What did I do to deserve that?"

His two friends began to chuckle quietly, and I started to get pissed off. "I'm not being rude. And if you have no idea what you did to deserve my foul mood, I can't help you. Look, I have to be somewhere, and you have to go home. You're drunk."

It looked like he had trouble focusing his eyes. "Yeah, well...maybe a bit, but...hey, come on, Bella. I missed you." He grabbed my wrist tightly. This time, he didn't let go.

"James–" I began, trying to twist out of his grip.

"Bella, come on. Give us a ride. Or better yet; can I come over? I miss you. I've told my friends things about you...in fact, I've told them so much about you that they know you as well as I know you, if you know what I mean."

He tightened his hold on my wrist and pulled me closer, and I tried to shove him away as he leaned in to kiss me roughly. As soon as his lips released mine, I tried to push him away from me, but he tightened his hold around my wrist, grabbing my shoulder with his other hand. Even as drunk as he was, he was a lot stronger than me, not to mention a lot taller.

"Let go of me. Now," I said slowly. I barely heard my own voice - I was so furious that my ears were ringing.

"Aw, come on, babe. Don't you miss me at all? Just admit it. I know you miss me...I'm sure I was the best lay you've ever had..."

"Shut up, and don't you ever kiss me again," I spat. "You've crossed the line. Now, let go of me." My voice trembled, not from fear but anger. Maybe I was getting a little nervous, too; it was late, and even though it was a Saturday night, there was no one around. Just my luck.

His friends began to laugh again; apparently, my irritation amused them. I tried to step away from James, moving quickly in the hopes of beating his slowed reflexes, but his hold on me was too tight. As he pulled me closer again, his grip becoming painful, I began to see red. As he pressed his mouth to mine again, I stepped on his toes – hard – and pushed at his chest. My heart was beating in my chest so hard, I almost couldn't hear anything else.

James toppled back and fell on his behind, cursing.

"Son of a bitch. Damn it," he mumbled.

His two friends stopped laughing.

Breathing hard, I turned around and squeezed the keys in my hand. I began to walk briskly, berating myself for not parking any closer to the door when I'd arrived for my shift a few hours ago.

"Hey! Don't walk away from me like that! Look what you did!"

"You asked for it," I threw over my shoulder and walked faster, almost running now.

Maybe my words angered him, or maybe he felt humiliated after falling on his butt in front on his friends. Or maybe he was too drunk to realize what he was doing, or maybe he was just that much of an asshole. Whatever the reason was, he got up – surprisingly fast, given his drunken state – and closed the distance between us with a few long strides.

"I said," he growled, as he grabbed my wrist again, "don't walk away from me like that!" He squeezed my wrist so hard I could actually feel the blood stop flowing. I gasped in pain and dropped my keys. James pulled me back against him, his other hand grasping my collar.

"Oh, come on, James, calm down now," one of his friends said, his voice appeasing.

"I don't think so," he slurred, reeling slightly and trying to focus his eyes on my face.

"James, don't be an idiot. Let go of me," I hissed, trying to twist myself free and preparing to knee him between his legs. I was about to do just that, but then...

"Hey!"

I couldn't recognize the feeling that washed over me as I heard the voice, and I didn't really have time to give a name to it. A second passed, and a hand appeared on James' shoulder, and another second later, I suddenly realized all I could see was the back of someone's coat.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Carlisle's voice was dangerously soft.

"Who the hell are you?" James roared, and I realized he was picking himself up from the ground for the second time in less than one minute.

Letting out a quick breath, I touched Carlisle's arm and tried to step past him, but he caught my elbow and stopped me. I noticed there was a silver BMW parked a few yards away, and I saw Edward climb out of the driver's side, leaving the engine running.

"James, just go," I told him, when he was back on his feet again. His two friends had come closer, one of them grabbing his arm and supporting him as he staggered.

Maybe I shouldn't have said his name, but I realized my mistake too late. Carlisle's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You're James?" he asked, his voice still incredibly soft and pleasant. A chill ran up my spine.

"Carlisle, just leave it. He's drunk," I murmured, and now it was me holding his arm and stopping him from taking a step forward.

"Carlisle? What kind of a name is that?" James said tauntingly and snorted loudly. "And who the hell are you? This is none of your business. Can't you see we're in the middle of something? Why don't you just fuck off!"

"I don't think so. And if you ever come near Bella again, you'll regret it. That I can promise you."

James snorted again and wriggled free from his friend's grasp, taking an unsteady step forward. "Oh? You think so? Well, you sure look like a tough guy."

I didn't see Carlisle's expression, but I assumed something in his face changed, since James' other friend came up to him now, too. His voice was nervous. "Come on, James, let's just go."

James ignored him and flicked me a look. "Don't tell me this is your boyfriend or something. Since when have you been into blonds? And what, are you picking up men from retirement homes now?"

"Easy now." During the exchange, Edward had sauntered closer; I'd almost forgotten he was there. He stopped close to James and his two goons, smiling softly. When he spoke, his voice was light and slightly amused. "My brother is a nice guy, but you know what they say. Even nice guys have their limits. Actually, the nicest guys make the scariest assholes. Ever heard that? And he also used to be a doctor, by the way. So, I guess he could fix you up, after he's through with you, but..."

He paused, pretending to consider. "Well, under the circumstances, I think he might go for the other choice. Let's just say that, if something...bad...were to happen to you, well, he'd sure know how to make it look like an accident. Doctors are interesting that way."

James' two friends began to look unsettled. James was still too drunk – or too much of an idiot – to back down. He looked from Carlisle to me, his eyes full of resentment and also something far deeper. "You should know better than to mess with me," he said in a low voice.

"Mess with you?" I asked. "Excuse me, but I wasn't the one sitting outside of your workplace and waiting for you like some messed up creep."

"You walked out on me!"

"Yeah, I did. And I'm still thanking myself for that decision. Do you have any idea why?"

James took a step forward. Carlisle took two. When he spoke, his voice was still perfectly smooth and calm, but there was a chilling edge to it.

"You have five seconds to leave," he said softly. "My brother here seems to be under the impression that I'm responsible enough to...clean up...after making a mess, but...sometimes I can be a little sloppy. No one's perfect, right?"

James' two friends began to mumble nervously.

"James..."

"Come on, man, let's just go..."

James' eyes were slightly unfocused as he looked from Carlisle to me. He opened his mouth to say something again, but Carlisle's soft voice interrupted him.

"One," he began to count quietly. "Two..."

Edward chuckled. "You'd better run, boys."

"Come on, James..." James' buddies took him by his arms and began to drag him away, ignoring his loud, drunken protests. Carlisle didn't turn around, until they'd crossed the street and staggered their way back inside the pub.

It took me a while to realize I was shivering. I wrapped my arms around myself, avoiding Carlisle's eyes, as he turned around and closed the short distance between us.

"Are you alright?" he asked, touching my chin.

I just nodded, giving Edward a glance. He wasn't looking at me – his eyes were on his brother.

"I'm going to head home now," Edward said, nodding toward his car.

Carlisle nodded, sighing quietly. "Thank you, Edward."

"No problem." He flicked me a glance, before looking at Carlisle again, giving him a strict stare. "Don't mess it up this time, alright? I mean it. I'll have your ass if you do. If there's anything left of you, that is, since Esme will probably beat me to it."

Carlisle just nodded. Edward went to his car and got in. Soon, the soft humming of the car's engine was gone, and then, it was way too quiet.

Carlisle bent down to pick up my keys from the ground. Instead of giving them to me, he put them in the pocket of his slacks. Then, he took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"Carlisle, I'm fine..." I protested wearily.

"You're trembling."

I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. "It's just the adrenaline. I'm alright."

"Did he hurt you?"

When I didn't look at him, he touched a finger to my chin, tilting my face up to his. There was a lot going on in his eyes, I noticed. The look in them was kind and concerned, but also worried and a bit angry. I had a feeling all he wanted to do was cross the street and drag James out of the pub.

I shook my head, suddenly tired. "I'm fine. He just grabbed me, that's all."

"Is that all?"

I blew out a breath. "Look, why do you even care? Fine, he kissed me as well, but I managed to push him away."

He nodded. "Yes, I saw that. And as for why I care..." He paused, swallowing. "I understand why you feel the need to question it, but I do care, Bella. Of course, I do."

"What are you even doing here?"

"I was looking for you. We went to your apartment, but since you weren't home, I figured you were working a late shift."

"But why are you here? And why was Edward with you?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. "Let me drive you home, and I'll explain. You're freezing." He wrapped his coat more tightly around me, and then he put a hand on my shoulder and began to guide me towards my truck.

"Give me my keys," I told him, fisting my hands to keep them from trembling. "I can drive myself. Get yourself a cab."

"Please, Bella. Let me take you home."

"Look, I'm tired of this. I'm not putting up with this anymore." I stopped and faced him. "Do you have any idea how hard I've been working to forget you? Look, I appreciate that you came to help me just now, but...you can't just appear out of the blue like this and start making demands. You have no right to do that. I don't owe you anything."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "And you're right. You don't owe me anything. You really don't. But...please, just humor me, Bella. This one last time. I realize I don't deserve it, but..." He swallowed thickly. "All I ask is just a few minutes with you. I know very well I have no right to ask anything from you, but..." He shook his head and sighed again. "Just let me drive you home. Please."

Too tired to protest, I sighed and went to the passenger side, waiting as Carlisle unlocked the doors. After helping me inside, he rounded the truck and got in.

"You're not going to like driving this old hunk of metal," I grumbled, trying to keep the hostility out of my voice. "The clutch is a nightmare. If you're used to your fancy car–"

"My first car was a pickup truck, and let's just say it wasn't the newest model. I'll be fine." His voice was almost amused. He started the engine and turned on the heater, giving me another worried glance.

I stayed silent, as he pulled out of the parking lot of the café, still a little too shocked about the fact that he was here. That I was sitting in my truck with him. I didn't know how to feel about that. My heart was running in my chest, like it was trying to tell me I should be as happy and delighted as it was, but my mind was slamming on the breaks, wanting to remind me why he had left. And how he had left.

I stared out the window as we drove to my apartment, making sure not to look at him; I didn't want to give him a reason to start small talk. His coat around me was warm and smelled like him, and I had to catch myself, when I noticed I was breathing in deeply to draw in his calming scent. I wondered if he noticed. Luckily, it was dark.

The short drive to my apartment seemed longer than usual; maybe it was the silence. As we finally arrived in the parking lot, I turned to give Carlisle a glance, and I was torn between relief and frustration, because I couldn't see his face. He let out a quiet sigh after he'd cut the engine, and I expected him to say something, but he just sat still, staying completely silent.

"So," I began, when it seemed like he wasn't going to start the conversation, "What did you want to say?"

Instead of answering, he got out of the truck and rounded it, opening the passenger door. It was my turn to sigh; apparently, he'd decided to do this indoors, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. Letting him inside meant I'd have to take the risk of seeing him walk out again.

I didn't have a choice, though. Despite wearing two coats, both my own and his, I was still cold, I was tired, my wrist was bruised and aching, and I just wanted to sleep. And if he was here just to clear his conscience, then I wanted this to be over as fast as possible.

He followed me wordlessly, as I went to the door of my apartment, and as soon as I was inside, I shed off his coat and gave it back to him without looking at his face. Taking off my own coat and tossing it over a chair, I turned on some lights in the kitchen and living room, hearing Carlisle trail behind me. Still not speaking. Silence was never a good sign, and it began to bother me a bit.

I turned to face him, yet still avoiding his eyes, absently rubbing my wrist. He noticed it. I could feel his gaze studying me intently as he took my arm and peeled up the sleeve of my sweater. My wrist was swelling, and the skin looked a bit irritated.

"You said he grabbed you?" Carlisle asked quietly.

"It's nothing," I answered. "My wrist is a bit sore, but it's not like it's broken or anything. I'll be fine."

"Can you make a fist for me, please?"

Sighing, I did as he asked, and I stifled the urge to roll my eyes when he asked me to wiggle my fingers. He probed my wrist gently, and I knew even without looking at him that he was staring at my face, looking for signs of discomfort.

"It'll definitely bruise," he murmured after a while, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me toward the couch. After I'd sat down, he turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the door of the fridge open; apparently, he'd come to notice during the past weeks that I always kept a gel pack on the top shelf. The fact that he remembered a small detail like that made my heart catch. Ache.

Burn.

He came back a moment later and sat down next to me, gently wrapping the gel pack around my wrist.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

I stared at coffee table, refusing to look at him. "Cold."

He gave a small, dry laugh. I flicked him a glance, but he didn't meet his eyes.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" I asked again. My voice sounded emotionless, even in my own ears. "Why did you want to see me?"

I heard him let out a sigh, and he released my wrist. I adjusted the gel pack, feeling like I needed something to do with my hands.

"I wanted to...apologize," he answered slowly, his voice strangely tired.

"For what?"

"For a lot of things. The last time I spoke to you...how I behaved was disrespectful, and I was wrong about some of the things I said. And...you were right about the things you said. The way I left..." I saw him shake his head from the corner of my eye. "It was...inexcusable."

"I'm sure you had your reasons," I murmured, my voice still distant.

"I did, or at least I thought I did. For days, I tried to convince myself that leaving was the right thing. The right decision." He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head again. "But...I couldn't do that. Convince myself. I just couldn't keep...lying to myself. For the first time in years, it wasn't the nightmares that kept me awake. It was you."

I closed my eyes momentarily, torn between fear and something else. Something like...hope.

"I lay awake at night, because I couldn't stop thinking about you," he continued quietly. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about the mistake I made, when I...when I walked out like that. You have no idea how many miles I've walked in the dead of night, thinking about you. About the things you said. No matter how much it scared me, I began to think things over. And then...well, then Edward and Esme heard what happened. What I did. And they just wouldn't leave me alone after that."

I gave him a glance, raising my eyebrows. "Esme knows about me?"

Carlisle nodded. "Of course. She saw you that one day, when you saw us at the diner. Actually, she knew about you long before that. She was the first person I told about you."

I didn't know what he meant by that, or what he wanted to mean by that. And I also didn't know what to think about his words. What to feel. Something else was bothering me as well, and I glanced down at my hands in my lap, swallowing thickly.

"So, you came to see me, because Edward and Esme made you? What, did they blackmail you or something?" I gave a cool, joyless laugh. "Did Edward have to force you into his car tonight?"

He shook his head, and he tried to meet my eyes, but I didn't let him. "Jesus. That's not what I meant, Bella. What I tried to say was...they would've made me see reason, unless I hadn't managed to see it myself. They would've forced me to acknowledge something I already knew, as simple as that. Something I've known all along. They confronted me about things, just like you confronted me seventeen days ago. They helped me see clearly, but eventually, it was my decision, and my decision alone, to come and see you. Not theirs."

My heart leapt at his words; I wasn't the only one counting days, it seemed to say. I tried to calm down, ignoring my heart's insistent pounding and its soundless whispers, and kept my eyes on my lap. "But...if they hadn't talked you into coming to see me tonight, would you have come to see me at all?"

"They didn't talk me into anything, Bella. That's what I'm trying to tell you. They let me have it, of course – I've never seen either of them so furious. But it wasn't their intervention that made me reconsider and realize I'd made a mistake. And Edward...he just happened to come by tonight, and I told him I was planning on going to see you." He gave a quiet, joyless laugh and glanced down at the floor. "He gave me a ride - maybe to make sure I wouldn't chicken out or start making up excuses on my way to you."

"Were you tempted?" I asked. "To make excuses?"

I heard him sigh. "I'll be honest with you, because honesty is something you deserve after all those things I've kept from you. Because honesty is something you deserved all along, and I failed you when it came to that.

"There was a part of me that wanted to make excuses. To say this would never work out, even if, by some miracle, you forgave me for what I did. There was a part of me that didn't want to admit, to accept...that I was wrong about some of the things I said. And if I'd listened to that part...if I'd believed my own excuses, by the time I would've realized my own stupidity, it might've been too late. And I didn't want that. I don't want that, Bella. I'm sorry about what I said. I can't demand that you forgive me, but I want you to know I'm sorry. I said things that were wrong, I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry."

I nodded, licking my lips. "Okay. I appreciate that you came to say that." I let out a long breath, still avoiding his eyes. "And it's okay. You don't have to feel bad about anything."

"That's not true."

"Look, Carlisle–"

I didn't get the chance to finish. A warm hand was suddenly cupping my jaw, and he turned my head to face him. He framed my cheeks with his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were like churning waters, like endless skies and an ocean full of waves at high noon.

"What are you doing?" I asked, torn between wanting to pull away and staying right there.

His breath left his body in one hard rush. "What am I doing? I'm forcing you to look at me, that's what I'm doing," His voice was low and hushed, just an urgent whisper. "I want you to look at me when I apologize. I want to be able to see your eyes, when I say I'm sorry. Not because you owe me that – you don't owe me a single thing – but because I owe you that. You deserve to have me look you in the eye, when I say I'm sorry. That I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left, Bella, and I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I know some of the things I said insulted you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about so many things..." His voice caught, and he blinked and swallowed, shaking his head.

I covered his hands with my own; the gel pack slipped from my wrist and fell, but I barely noticed. "It's alright," I answered softly. "You don't have to feel bad about anything."

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry about some other thing as well," he murmured. He closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them again and looking at me. "When you said...that I never had to be a whole person...for you to fall in love with me...I'm sorry I didn't want to believe you. I'm sorry I didn't say what I wanted to say. I'm sorry I didn't realize I never needed to be a whole person...to fall in love with you."

My breath caught in my throat, and all I could do was just stare at him. He continued to speak, and I was so bewildered, I had to force myself to focus on his next words.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was afraid, Bella, and I still am." He kept one hand on the side on my face, cupping my cheek, and then he took my hand with his free one and brought it to his chest. I could feel how his heart was beating against my palm; it was like a thundering herd of horses.

"If you're afraid, then...what made you come here?" I asked quietly. "And what makes you stay here now? What makes you...face that fear?"

He smiled sadly, letting go of my hand and framing my face with his hands again. "I've told you before," he answered with a broken, strangled laugh that sounded almost like it might turn into a sob. "You draw me in. You're the moon to my tide. You stay there, in the sky, and I withdraw and come back again, because I can't help it.

"And no matter how many times I draw back, no matter how many times I escape, every time I return, you're still there. And I'm afraid...afraid that someday, you no longer will be. I'm afraid that...if I tell you I love you, my words will make you fall from the sky. My sky. And all I'm left with is an empty horizon, and your invisible gravity that keeps pulling me to you. And...I don't want that. I don't want you to fall from my sky."

I didn't realize there were tears on my face before he brushed them away with his thumbs.

"You love me?" I asked in a broken whisper.

He leaned his forehead against mine. "I do. I love you, Bella. I love you, and it scares me, and that's why I left. I love you, and it thrills me, and that's why I came back. I know saying these things..." I felt him shake his head. "I know a few months is a short time. I know I haven't known you for long." He pulled back to see my face. His other hand stroked my tender wrist.

"All I know is your ex is an incurable idiot," he began, making me give a soft laugh, as I remembered the conversation we'd had that one Sunday weeks and weeks ago. "All I know is you get into all sorts of trouble all the time, like tonight, and that's why I came to meet you in the first place. All I know is you love your mother, and you have her smile. All I know is you drink way too much coffee, and that you talk in your sleep, and that you love books. All I know is you sometimes wear mismatched socks and don't give a damn, and I think it's endearing.

"All I know is, if you happen to find out the man you're seeing has a dead daughter, you go right up to him and fearlessly bring it up, instead of tiptoeing around the subject. All I know is...all I know is you're nothing like me, that you're a whole, intact person, and you're in love with me, in spite of the fact that I'm not whole. And all I know is…I love you because of all those things."

I couldn't speak; it was like he'd said everything there was to say. But still, my lips kept asking for more. It was like I'd never get enough of his words. "Since when?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know when I first realized it. When I became aware of it. Maybe...maybe it was when you offered to take a walk with me in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. Maybe it was as early as you served me coffee, and I saw you in that little red apron for the first time. Or maybe it was when you were mad at me, and you cursed at me, and then you threw up on your doormat."

That made me laugh a bit, and I wiped a hand across my eyes, brushing away more tears.

"Or maybe it was when I woke up that one day, and I saw you'd made me pancakes, regardless of how I'd treated you the previous night. Or maybe...maybe it was when...when I gave you that necklace." His eyes dropped to my chest, and a small frown crinkled his brow, when he noticed the necklace was gone.

I gave him a sad smile. "I took it off...a few days after you'd left. I couldn't..." I shook my head. "Every time I looked in the mirror, it reminded me of you. That you were gone."

His hand cupped my cheek again. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You're here now."

He gave me a wary glance. "Where is it now? The necklace? Is it in your bedroom?"

I nodded. "It's in a drawer."

He smiled and got up, pulling me up with him.

"Wait," I said, when he was about to turn and head to the hallway. "It's…it's locked. The drawer."

He smiled confusedly. "And where's the key?" He frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Did you...throw it away or something?"

I chuckled, shaking my head and blushing furiously. "No, um...it's...it's, uh, in the freezer." I kept my eyes on the floor, not looking up. But when it had been completely silent for several seconds, I gave Carlisle a curious glance.

It seemed he was struggling to keep his face straight. Pressing his lips together, he cleared his throat and quirked his eyebrows. "Uh...in the freezer?"

I shrugged and didn't say anything, feeling like all my blood was in my face and ears.

He cleared his throat again. "Well, did it help at all? Putting the key in the freezer?"

"Well, maybe…a bit."

He began to laugh softly, and after a while, it turned into full belly laughter – I'd never heard that before. Smiling widely, I covered my face with my hands, only to have Carlisle remove them. He stroked my hot cheeks with his thumbs, letting out a few more breathless laughs.

"I missed this," he murmured, drawing in a deep breath and smiling like I'd never seen before. He cupped my flaming cheeks; his hands felt cool against my burning skin. "This. Your blush."

I rolled my eyes and gave his arm a gentle tug. "Let's get that key. I miss my necklace."

He chuckled and followed me to the kitchen. Still looking like he was trying very hard not to grin, Carlisle went to the freezer and opened it, digging out the drawer key from under a bag of frozen vegetables. Since the key was made of metal – and since it had spent many days in the freezer – it stuck to his warm fingers. I chuckled, as he plucked it away from his skin, hissing quietly.

"I guess I deserved that," he murmured in a dry manner, once he'd managed to shake the frozen key from his fingers, dropping it on the kitchen counter.

"Why don't we give it a minute. Let it melt for a while," I suggested, smiling softly.

"Or we could run warm water over it?"

"Yeah, we could," I answered slowly, sauntering closer to him. "But I think it's better if we let it melt by itself. Some things...they shouldn't be rushed, don't you agree?"

He pretended to consider for a moment, and then he nodded mock-seriously. "You know, I think you're right. Rushing is bad. Very bad."

"Very, very bad," I echoed. Then, I crossed the distance between us with two hasty strides and wrapped my arms around him, assaulting his lips with mine. He sighed against my mouth, and then, his hands clutched my waist and pulled me against him demandingly.

Kissing him...it was like listening to your favorite piece of music, after spending endless amounts of time in a soundless, isolated space, or opening your eyes after a lifetime of darkness and loneliness. Kissing him, feeling his body so close to mine…it was like every inch of my skin was coming alive with sensation, like every drop of blood in my veins was leaping and dancing and doing somersaults.

Then, I felt like the rest of my body was doing somersaults as well. Carlisle pulled away from my lips, and the floor disappeared from under me, as he literally swept me off my feet and carried me out of the kitchen.

As he sat me down on my bed a few seconds later, his every move, his every touch, was tender and slow. Very slow. It kind of made me regret my earlier words; I shouldn't have said rushing was bad. Because the truth was, there were situations that required speed and efficiency. Undressing, for instance, was one of those things. It seemed, though, that Carlisle disagreed, and apparently, he had taken my earlier words more than seriously.

He divested me of my clothes like trees shed their leaves. Sweetly, slowly, reverently, his lips running over every angle and curve his hands exposed. He wasn't just undressing me – it was like he'd decided to worship every inch of my body with his eyes, lips and hands. And every time I tried to reciprocate, his hands caught mine and stopped me, as if the mere thought of discontinuing what he was doing was unbearable to him. I kind of wanted to tell him, then, that seeing him fully dressed, while my clothes were disappearing one by one, was unbearable to me, but I had a feeling it would have only made him smile and slow down even more.

By the time he was done, and there wasn't a stitch of clothing on me, I was squirming and gasping. As he placed a soft kiss in the valley between my breasts, his hands palming my hips, I decided I'd had enough. Or not exactly. I hadn't had enough, and that was the problem.

"Carlisle," I groaned, as his tongue circled my nipple. "Not fair..."

He chuckled quietly. His warm breaths caused goosebumps to break over my skin wherever it hit. "What isn't fair, sweetheart?"

"This," I somehow managed to answer, though the clever caress of his tongue and fingers made it kind of hard. My hands found the collar of his shirt and trailed over his chest. "This. Too many clothes." My trembling fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and I managed to get one of them undone, when he caught my hands again, pulling them away from his body. "Carlisle..."

He just chuckled, nuzzling my nose with his. "Say that again," he said in a low tone that made the heat in the pit of my stomach intensify. "Say my name like that."

It wasn't my intention to obey – not after he'd stopped me from undressing him again. Two could play this game, after all. But my brain was all fuzzy, and the pleasure his mere gaze was giving me was running my lips. "Carlisle," I whispered again. It made him squeeze his eyes shut, like hearing my voice whispering his name like that was more than he could bear. He dropped a hasty kiss on my lips before pulling away.

Holding my gaze, he sat back on his heels, and the breath left my body in a rush,as he began to unbutton his shirt. The feeling that surged through me was more than relief. It was almost like a sense of release, as he slowly uncovered his body, as my eyes finally took in his bare skin. The sight of him undressing himself while I watched...it was so erotic it made my toes curl and my stomach clench. And I decided he did it so much better than me. I was suddenly very glad he'd stopped me earlier, that they were his hands unbuckling his belt and drawing off his clothes, his fingers that were hooking under the elastic band of his boxers. That particular visual stimulus made my skin flush with new heat. He shifted to kick off the garment, and then he sat back on his heels again, smiling softly, as I growled in frustration.

"What's the matter, Bella?" he asked, his hands grasping my ankles and his thumbs rubbing the skin there. A violent shudder went through me.

"You," I moaned. "Are you going to tease me to death? Is that what you're trying to do?"

He chuckled low and deep in a sensual manner. "Of course not. Was there something you wanted? If so, why don't you come and get it yourself?"

He barely got the words out; I sat up so quickly my head spun, and I pushed myself to my knees and crossed the short distance between our bodies. I wrapped an arm behind his neck to bring his lips to mine, while my hand traveled over the soft skin of his chest, down his stomach, until my fingers reached the trail of hair beneath his navel.

He moaned against my mouth when my hand found him, and as I wrapped my fingers around his arousal and gave it a firm, sensual stroke, his quiet moan turned into a strangled cry.

He pulled away from my kiss and leaned his forehead against mine, soft pants and gasps leaving his parted lips. As I ran a thumb over his weeping, swollen head, he hissed and bucked against me. I could actually feel how the muscles of his lower stomach seized, and suddenly, he was wrapping his arms around me, his hands cupping the backs of my thighs and spreading my legs. He pulled me closer, until we were chest to chest, and I was straddling him. After catching my lips in a brief, soft kiss, he pulled away again to look into my eyes, as I positioned myself and lowered myself onto him.

His eyes never left mine, as our bodies slowly entangled into one. I curled my fingers into his soft, golden hair, and he wrapped his arms around me, a sound something between a moan and a sigh escaping his lips, as I rocked myself against him.

"God, Bella," he whispered, before leaning his forehead to mine. "I missed this. I missed you."

I pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "What did you miss?"

He ran his hands up and down my back, his breathing heavy. "This. The feel of your body against mine." He groaned, as I moved my hips again in a slow, rocking motion. "And this." He brought his other hand above my left breast, pressing his palm against my skin. "The way your heart races when we're together like this."

I closed my eyes for a short moment, before opening again. "What else?" my question came out as a breathless whisper.

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me tightly and shifted, gently laying me down on the bed, without breaking the intimate connection between our bodies. He took my hand and laced my fingers with his, pressing a soft kiss on the long scar on the inside of my arm.

"This," he answered. "Your skin. Your scars. Every one of them."

My soft chuckle turned into a moan, as he moved against me, hooking an arm behind my knee and bringing him deeper into me.

"You know what?" I managed to say, as he slowly rocked his hips against mine.

"What?" he asked, gazing at me.

"I missed you, too," I said in a hushed, breathless whisper. "Even my scars missed you. Every one of them."

He smiled, and then his lips found mine again. Just like his body had found mine again. Just like...just like his heart had found mine, after seventeen days of hiding. Or had it simply returned to something it had known all along? Was this a rediscovery of something we'd both acknowledged a long time ago, but had feared to admit?

Maybe. All I knew was, I loved him, and he loved me. All I knew was, when he was gone, even my scars missed him. All I knew was, his skin and his body knew mine inside and out, and when the pounding of my heart grew so loud,it seemed to drown out both my moans and his, and when the tight knot in my stomach came undone, that was when his body unraveled as well.

As the tension broke inside us, we collapsed against each other like the waves of a stormy sea, like the tide crashes against the rocks on the shore. Because I was the moon, and he was the tide, and we belonged together, in spite of the fact that the earth was turning and trying to keep us apart.

A/N: Edward's line, "Actually, the nicest guys make the scariest assholes," is taken from a Pinterest post I came across some months ago. I'm still not sure who's behind those brilliant words, but the original line went something like this. "Even the nicest people have their limits. Don't try to reach that point, because the nicest people are also the scariest assholes when they've had enough."

I wasn't sure about writing Bella as the damsel in distress once again - I know some people find that frustrating. But then again, that's how B&C came to know each other in this story. She's the incurable trouble magnet...and he just happens to be in the right place at the right time.