A/N: *No infringement intended, all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do, however, own the plotlines to this particular story as well as a serious love for all things chocolate.*

WARNING: This chapter may be a little emotional and the themes are a bit intense. And again thanks to super RN, Kat, for help with the medical stuffs.

Thanks for stickin' with me this far. I love you all, hard!

Oh check out the End Notes, couple of announcements and shit.

Chapter 20

~O~

A Small Town Hate

EPOV

He was hardly recognizable; his face was swollen to such an extent that even if he had been conscious, he wouldn't have been able to open his eyes.

"Michael Newton, are you sure?" I looked to Liam as I counted out his pulse.

"Yeah, Doc, his wallet was in his jeans pocket."

"So we can rule out mugging. Are police involved yet?" I looked to the EMT.

He shook his head. "No one called the police. He phoned for the ambulance himself before he lost consciousness. We found him by his car in the parking lot at his store."

"Charlotte, call Chief Swan immediately. Tell him his son-in-law is here then call this number…" I scrolled through my phone until I found Bella's cell phone number, "…she'll want to be here, and she'll know who else to notify."

"Who's Bella?" Charlotte asked, taking my phone from me.

"She's my girlfriend and his estranged wife."

I took out a pen light and pried his left eye open. "Mike, can you hear me? If you can hear me, Mike, I want you to wiggle your fingers for me. Can you do that, Mike, wiggle your fingers?" His pupils indicated brain trauma, but until I had the scans in front of me, I wouldn't have a clue how far it reached. I watched Mike's hands as I worked over him. No movement. Shit.

"Charlotte, where the fuck is ultrasound? And I want a CT scan now! Call down and tell them we're on the way. Liam, judging by the bruising and distension here, he's got some internal bleeding. Set up a catheter and let's keep an eye out for blood in the urine, please." I probed gently along his rib cage, feeling for fractures, counting at least two on the right side. "Looks like a fucking boot mark. Are you seeing this, Liam?" I pointed to the rather large mark on Mike's lower abdomen. It was a deep red, and was slightly swollen.

"Yeah, that's a boot mark, Dr. Cullen. Do you want me to grab the Polaroid?" he asked.

"Yeah, please," I said to Liam.

"Michael, what happened to you?" I whispered, leaning over his body examining a deep laceration above his right eye. "Okay, go ahead and clean these. I'll need to stitch the one above his eye."

Charlotte buzzed back into the room. "CT is prepping the room, ultrasound will be waiting for us down there, and Chief Swan is on his way. As soon as we get him down stairs and situated, I'll call Bella." She was a quick young woman who handled stress like a pro. She was truly cut out for the emergency room. She was compassionate, effective, and efficient and those were all must haves in this profession.

"Thank you, Charlotte. Sorry about the F-bomb," I apologized as we unlocked the wheels on his bed and began pushing him out of the room.

"No problem, Dr. C."

Liam met the three of us at the elevator with the Polaroid camera. I pulled the sheet back, and he took pictures of the boot print, as well as Michael's face, and the marks on his knees. "Looks like he was crawling, Doc." He pointed to Mike's knees.

"Jesus Christ, Michael," I whispered as violent pictures played across my mind. Scenarios, that given the types of injuries he suffered, were both frightening and likely.

Once the elevator doors opened, an ultrasound technician grabbed the foot of his bed and helped to steer it into the hallway and into the CT room. "Okay, we can do this right here, Dr. Cullen. I'll have the scans sent to your computer for review, and I paged Dr. Laden."

"Thank you," I said, looking at the badge hanging from her breast pocket, "Chloe."

I briefed Chloe on my suspicion, and she quickly squeezed out blue jelly across the area, flipped the portable ultrasound machine, tapped on a few keys on the main board, and then ran her wand over his abdomen. "There, look, pooling. He's bleeding." Chloe pointed to the monitor and, sure enough there was a large area of the lower abdomen that was dark.

"Well, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it must be internal bleeding. Shit. That area is pretty damned extensive too, but I don't see anything in the urine, which is a bonus," I said, looking down at the drainage bag Liam had set up at when he fitted the catheter. "Dr. Laden's en route?" I asked, looking to Chloe.

"Yes, he should be here in about twenty minutes."

"Alright, let's roll him in and see what's going on with that brain of his." I was more than a little discouraged by the fact that Michael had yet to show any signs of responsiveness, and if the bleed in his abdomen was as extensive as it looked, he would very soon be undergoing surgery to stop from bleeding out.

After consulting Dr. Laden, the neurologist, and the general surgeon, Dr. Bevan, it was decided the priority was to get the bleeding in Michael's abdomen under control. He had some minor swelling in his brain from the injuries, but no bleeds and no fractures were detected.

When I heard my name being called over the loud speaker, I left Michael in the capable hands of Dr. Bevan who had an O.R. booked and a team prepping the room as we spoke. I made my way back to the nursing station in the emergency room and was met with the worried looks of Isabella, Rosalie, Emmett, and who I presumed was Chief Swan.

"Edward, what happened, is he okay?" Bella asked.

"Chief, I think some men need to get down to Newton's and check things out. Michael's been assaulted. He's being prepped for surgery right now to stop some pretty serious internal bleeding. He's also got some swelling in his brain that we're trying to get under control, but it's minor, and we're confident we can stop any further swelling. That aside, he has two fractured ribs and plenty of nasty looking scrapes and cuts littering his face and body—the worst of which I've already stitched up."

Bella grabbed her father's arm and began to sob. Her knees buckled, and both Rose and I reached out to grab her arm and hold her up.

"Bella, come sit down." I waved toward the family waiting area and steered Bella into a seat. Rose sat down next to her and then dug a Kleenex out of her purse. Emmett and the Chief remained standing. "Bella, do you know of any allergies to medications he might have?" I asked.

"No, he doesn't have any allergies."

Emmett, though he looked tired, had his arms crossed over his chest and was looking down over the two ladies with concern set heavy on his face.

"Dr. Cullen, if you could show me to a phone, I'll call the office and have my deputy in there in ten minutes."

"Of course, this way, sir," I said as I lead him back to the nurses' station.

"Liam, if you could hand over those pictures to Chief Swan here, that'd be great." Liam reached into his pocket and removed a small pile of photos and quickly handed them to the Chief.

"Christ, that's boot print," he remarked as he flipped through the photos. He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a slow, long breath of air. I looked at his features carefully, and I could see hints of Bella. Their relation was most evident in the colour of his eyes. They were the same deep chocolate brown as Isabella's. They were equally as expressive. He was angry and worried, and I could see hints of conflict racing through his face. He wanted to hate Michael for what he'd done to Bella, but he would never wish this on someone. He was a man of the law, and a father, and he had loved Michael like a son for years.

"Yes, sir, that's what I thought."

"Charlie, you can call me Charlie, son." He held out his hand, and I shook it. He had a firm grip, but his palms were sweating.

"Edward, and under normal circumstances, I would have said that it was nice to meet you." I gave him a slight smile.

"Edward, can I say something?"

"Of course," I said as I looked him in the eye.

He shifted his weight back and forth for a moment before he spoke. "She likes you. She's told me as much. But, she can't take much more crap in her life right now. You seem like a decent man, but I have to say, I don't mind hurting you if things come to that. Understand me, son?" he said in a matter-of-fact tone. He wasn't trying to intimidate me in the least; he was speaking as a father who would do anything to protect his only daughter from further heartache, and I very much admired him for it.

"Understood, sir," I said, nodding in agreement.

Charlie called the police department and had a small team of officers sent over to begin the investigation. "...Right, he's got security cameras set up both inside and outside that store. I want those tapes in my office in the next two hours. Tell Mark to head to the family's home, please. Carole and Stephen are going to want to be here when their son gets out of surgery."

When he finished on the phone, he went to join his daughter in the waiting room while I went to attend to the new patient that had just been brought in. A nine month old baby with a high fever. I told Charlie I would update them as often as I could.

~O~

CPOV

"Edward said he'd be back when he could, honey, but he's got patients to see." I looked at my daughter sitting with her arms wrapped around the middle of her body. She looked so tiny to me.

"Did you call Carole?" she asked. Her voice was thick with tears, and her face was all swollen from crying.

"Mark is on his way there now, baby. I'm sure they'll be here soon." I sat on the other side of her, Rose rubbed Bella's arm and gave me a weak smile.

"Good." She looked down at the floor and nodded.

"Emmett would you mind doing a coffee run, son. I'm sure we could all use some caffeine right about now."

Emmett jumped up out of chair, hands in his pockets. "Sure thing, Charlie, what do you take in your coffee?"

"A little sugar, none of that fake sweetener shit."

He smirked and shuffled out of the room, leaving me with the two girls.

"Someone found out, Dad," Bella said in a voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "They found out, and they beat him."

"Don't go jumping to conclusions, Bella. We don't know the whole story." I didn't want to admit that it sounded about right to me. Crime in these small cities was usually born of boredom, poverty, or hate. Edward had already informed me that they found his wallet on him and nothing appeared to be missing. That ruled out poverty. All that was left was boredom and hate, and in my experience the leap from one to the next was short indeed.

"I should have... if I'd just..." Bella's chin was trembling, and she was fighting to keep herself in control. For me Bella's always be consistent, easy to read. Everything was still directly connected to her tear ducts. Her emotional reactions hadn't changed so much over the years

"You should have what, Bella? Stayed in an awful marriage? Pretended like he did? No, sugar, none of this is on you, so stop it right the hell now," Rose barked at her. I always liked Rose. She was a straight shooter and possibly a saint for putting up with that husband of hers. Don't get me wrong, Emmett was a great guy, but he still had a lot of growing up to do.

Bella grew silent again, and anyone who didn't know any better would think she conceded to the point. We knew better. She was analyzing, looking for a way to make it her fault. Rose was on to her stoic routine and gave me an eye roll.

Nearly a half hour had passed, and Emmett had long since returned with the coffee before Bella spoke again. "I told Jake. And the baby shower…half the town knows."

"So?" I knew where she was going with this.

"Everyone knows why we separated. If I'd just kept my fucking mouth shut no one would have known. This never would have happened."

"Charlie, did you happen to bring your taser gun with you?" Emmett asked in a calm, even voice.

"No, Em, I didn't." I huffed.

"Maybe we can get one of the nurses to sedate Bells then. She's talkin' bullshit, Charlie."

"Screw you, Emmett. You're not the one—" Bella's words were cut short by the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Newton.

I stood and straightened my shirt. "Carole, Stephen," I greeted.

"Charlie, is he…" Carole was already crumbling. She clung to her husband for support.

"He's in surgery," I said, reaching out and touching her arm.

Bella appeared by my side. "He was assaulted at the store. He has a lot of injuries and internal bleeding. That's what they're trying to fix right now. They mentioned some swelling in the in brain due to his injuries, but they don't seem as concerned about that. The doctor said the bleeding was the priority. Dad's got a few men at the store, investigating." She sounded so put together when she spoke, and that scared me a little.

"Why the hell are you here? You left him," Stephen spat. I was tempted to punch him in the face, but I figured that whatever Bella was sitting on was likely far more deadly than anything physical I could dole out.

"Stephen, don't start," Carole warned. I respected the hell out of this woman. The look she gave could bring the devil to his knees.

"No, Carole, she's the reason my son is on a goddamn operating table right now."

"You're right, I probably am. But maybe, just maybe, if your son felt safe talking to you, neither one of us would be here. You can stand there, point your finger in my face, and I'll gladly take whatever blame I'm due. But you need to shoulder some of that, too. If he wasn't so goddamn afraid of what his parents and the community thought of him, I'd be happily married to someone else rather than going through a divorce at thirty years old. You'd have a happy son, who might be in a committed relationship, and neither one of us would be in a hospital wondering if he's going to be okay." She exhaled when she finished and wiped the rapidly falling tears from her face.

I looked at Stephen and he looked defeated. I was right. The blow to his ego was worse than the one that would have landed on his jaw.

"Bella, darling, I don't blame you. I've had plenty of good, long talks with Michael since you left. You're right, we didn't always have the most open door policy when the boys were growing up. We all should have talked more, listened more." Carole looked directly at Stephen when she said that, and I swore on the Seattle Mariners shortstop I saw his knees knock. Like I said, that woman could bring the devil to his knees. "But, darling, this might have happened regardless. Whether he'd come out or not, we don't know this wouldn't have happened. So you need to let it go. We can start pointing fingers and laying blame when we find the people responsible. Right now we're here because we all care about Michael, so let's focus on that, okay."

She was good. Not only did she put her husband in his place, but she stopped Bella's guilt trip dead in its tracks. This woman was chalked full of gumption and had balls to boot.

"Stephen, go call Paul and Corrina and tell them what's going on. Michael's going to want to see his family when he wakes up." With that, she pulled Bella back to the chairs and sat down next to her. She held Bella's hand and offered a small smile to both Rose and Emmett.

"Well, baby, I'm going to head to the station for a while. We both know the longer I sit here and do nothing, the crankier I'll get. Keep me posted, okay, kiddo."

"I will, Dad," she said, looking up from her chair.

"Emmett, take care of my baby. Rose, keep him in line, would ya?" I winked at them both and left the hospital.

When I got to the cruiser, I radioed the station to see who was there. "Hey, boys and girls, this is your Chief talking. I'm on my way in, who wants what?"

The radio crackled and I heard Miranda's voice. "Hey, Chief. Mark's on his way in. How's he doing?" Miranda was our dispatcher, and she normally only worked days, but I had a feeling the whole team would be there when I rolled in.

"Miranda, why aren't you at home with that beautiful little girl of yours?"

"Josie woke up and while I was rocking her back to sleep, I heard the call over the scanner. I knew damn good well every officer would be in tonight, and you know these boys can't be trusted, so I handed Josie over to her daddy and came on over," she explained.

"Owning a police scanner is illegal, Miranda," I chastised in a teasing tone. "And he's in surgery. He was banged up pretty bad, kid."

"Sorry to hear it, Charlie."

"So how many coffees am I picking up?" I asked as I made my way out of the visitor parking lot. That street light needs to be replaced, I thought to myself as I looked up at the dead bulb that hung over the hood of the car. It was meant to illuminate the crosswalk in front of me.

"I've already got the coffee. How about you pick up some doughnuts for us?" She's too good to me. She always has fresh coffee going, and most of the time she comes in with an armful of baked goods too.

"Deal, see you in a few." I put the handset back in its place and headed for the nearest Dunkin' Donuts. There was a twenty-four hour one a block away from the station, which, I'm sure was the only reason it's still in business.

After tossing the doughnuts down on the counter in the staff room, Mark and I went to the back room to review the tapes he pulled from Newton's.

"So what's the deal?" I asked, sipping on my coffee.

"The spray paint on the side of the store leaves no doubt in mind we're dealing with a hate crime," Mark affirmed as he pulled the digital camera out his pocket.

I shuffled through the images and nodded. Small town hate strikes again. The words 'fagot' and 'cocksucker' were spray painted across the walls of the north side of the building, facing the parking lot. I shook my head, disappointed by the ignorance and lack of originality. It had all been done before. The insults were old and the act was based solely on ignorance. We always feared what we didn't fully understand.

We sat down with the surveillance tapes and went through each one until we found what we were looking for. "I should have fucking known," I spat as I pointed my pen tip to the images of the two boys on the screen in front of me.

"The Call boys, Embry and Demetri," Mark confirmed.

"They were adopted when they were seven, but the more I get to know these boys, the more I think they should have been drowned at birth. This will be the fifth time, but this time it's not about disturbing the peace at 2 a.m., or mischief, it's a damn felony assault charge. Oh, Mom and Pop will be real proud," I seethed, tossing the pen down on the table.

~O~

BPOV

More than two hours had passed since they brought Michael into the O.R. His brother Paul was on his way from Seattle, and Rose had since passed out on Emmett's lap. Mr. and Mrs. Newton took turns pacing, and occasionally Mr. Newton would lose his cool and moan about no one having come to update them yet. I just sat quietly and waited. Sitting with no distractions left a lot of time for thinking.

I blindly stared at a cheap oil painting hanging on the wall across for me. It was your typical calm waters at sunset type of painting in various shades of nauseating pastels with a hideous gold frame encasing it. The scene brought me back to our honeymoon.

We sat on the beach in South Carolina, sipping Long Island Iced Teas and watching as the sun tucked itself away for the day. I remembered feeling good in that moment, happy. Of course, looking back, it may have been due to the wonderful amount of booze coursing through my veins. I was sitting and watching one of the most beautiful sunsets I'd ever seen, and next to me was a man I loved more than my own life.

That was the night we'd finally consummated our marriage. Of course, it didn't matter what I'd worn —or didn't wear, for that matter— there was no enticing my husband back to bed. Happy was quickly snuffed out and replaced with a quiet frustration.

Edward made me happy. He made me the kind of happy they wrote about in those stupid happily-ever-after romance novels peddled at every bookstore in the world. True love and romance was a pretty universal theme, and everyone wanted in on it. Even the most bitter harpies dreamed of passion that swept them off their feet.

"Bella?" I came back from my mental stumbling to see Edward standing in front of me.

"Oh, I'm sorry I was lost there. Is he out of surgery yet?" I stood up and put myself at a casual distance from Edward. I was very aware of the heavy judgment vibes rolling away from Mr. Newton right now. He'd do well to rein that in before Carole catches him. She might make him stand in the corner or something.

"No, not yet, but I would venture to guess that he'll be out in the next half hour or so. I spoke to Dr. Bevan and she said everything is going very well. His vitals are strong and healthy. She will come and talk to you all just as soon as she can." Edward turned to address the Newton's. "Dr. Bevan is an excellent surgeon. She's incredibly skilled. Your son is in good hand with her."

"Take a walk with me while I have moment," he requested and nodded toward the door. Again, Mr. Newton tossed daggers at me as I walked passed him, Edward's hand on the small of my back.

Just as I breached the threshold of the door, I caught the ear tug Carole gave to Stephen with a warning look, I was sure would have most eighth graders shivering where they stood. Carole was good at doling out the 'shut your mouth' looks. She taught eighth grade for the last ten years of her teaching career. Inspiring fear was part of her repertoire.

I chuckled and rounded the corner into the corridor. "How are you? I'm sorry. It's been pretty busy since Mike was brought in," he apologized, ridiculously.

"I'm okay. Things got a little dramatic in there for a little while, but Mrs. Newton's like some kind of ninja. She's quick to keep everyone in line."

"My shift is over at nine, in about an hour in a half, if you'd like to come home with me. I live closer, and you look like you're dead on your feet."

"I just might take you up on that offer, Dr. Cullen." I leaned into him and inhaled the strange scent that engulfed him. His smell was all wrong. There was no cinnamon, chocolate, or mint, and very little Edward. What was left was a hermetic, stale smell that was heavily laced with disinfectant and illness. I could smell the hand sanitizer on him, and I could smell sickness clinging to him. "You smell like sick people," I said, winkling my nose.

"You're absurd, Isabella, sick people don't have a smell," he said as he kissed the top of my head.

"They do, and you smell like sick people."

"You can't smell illness, Bella." His smile was crooked and cute, and he was making fun of me. Bugger.

"I can and when we get home you're taking a shower before you get into bed. Wash the sick off you."

"Anything you say, Isabella." He kissed my nose and told me he'd meet me in the family lounge when he was finished.

As I headed back the way I came, my phone rang. Checking the caller ID, I saw that my father was calling me.

"Hey, Dad."

"Bella, are you still at the hospital?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Are the Newtons still there?"

"Yes."

"Can you put me on speaker phone so I'm not having to repeat myself?"

I pulled the door of the family lounge open and faced the Newton's. "Sure, hold on, Dad." I pulled the phone away from my face and hit the button so they could all hear his voice. "Okay, Dad, you're on speaker, and the Newton's are right here. Go ahead."

Carole and Stephen shuffled closer, and Emmett woke Rosalie up.

"Carole, Stephen, can you hear me all right?" My dad's voice filed the room. Projection was never an issue for him.

"Yes, Charlie, we can all hear you," Stephen answered as he fished his hands out of his pockets.

"We pulled the tapes from the store, and my deputy and I reviewed them hoping we'd catch the assault on video. Not only did the cameras catch every moment of it, but it gave us a perfect shot of the assailant's faces. Embry and Demetri Call were picked up about a half hour ago and charged with vandalism, hate crimes under the Matthew Shepard Act, and aggravated assault. Demetri is also being charged with attempting to injure an officer of the law and attempting to evade. Bugger put up a good fight, but Mark was quicker."

I watched as an invisible weight lifted off the shoulders of both of the Newtons. Knowing that they would be held responsible for their actions, and this wouldn't be just another cold case, offered me a bit of comfort. I exhaled in relief.

"Oh, thank you, Charlie. Thank you. You certainly didn't have to spend your evening worrying over my son, or the people that hurt him, but I'm more than glad you did."

"Not a problem, Carole. How's your boy doing?"

"He's still in surgery, but Dr. Cullen came to speak to us briefly. He assured me that Michael was in good hands and should be out of surgery shortly."

"You'll let me know how he fairs?' Charlie asked.

"Of course, Chief," Stephen answered.

"Good, good. Alright, Bells, you can take me off speaker."

I clicked the button and brought the phone back to my ear. "That's good news, Dad."

"Yeah, so since you're pretty close to home, feel free to head there when you're done at the hospital." I could hear the concern in his voice.

"That's all right, Dad, I'm going home with Edward when his shift is done. He doesn't live far from here either." I vaguely registered the faint sound of a chest being smacked and wondered which one got it: Emmett for an inappropriate look or comment, or Stephen for another nasty glare.

"Er, hmm, okay. Well, in that case, call me later, okay?"

"Sure, Dad. Love you." I said, walking back to the chair that had been my resting place for the last few hours.

"Bye, kiddo, I love you too."

I slid the phone into my purse, slunk down into the chair and went right back staring at the painting across from me. I wasn't sure how those two small town delinquents found out, but they did, and they used their juvenile, narrow minded view of what they thought was acceptable to fuel them. Their bodies became their weapons and their prejudice their motivation.

And here I was, seething with hate. Hi kettle, I'm hypocrisy. I didn't hate them, per se, but I certainly hated their actions. I took comfort in the fact they'd been caught, they would be made to pay, and —most of all—they were stuck in lock-up with a few over worked, under-paid cops who happened to be part of my extended family. A sly smile grew when I thought about how very uncomfortable those two boys would be right about now.

A gentle nudge ripped me from the horrible dream I'd been having. I sat up, stalk straight, my eyes as wide as saucers and looked around the room. Emmett had been sitting beside me, and judging by the dark wet spot on his upper arm, he'd been serving as my pillow.

"Bella, this is Dr. Bevan, Michael's surgeon." Edward motioned to the petite brunette standing next to him. She looked to be in her forties, with thin burgundy wire frames perched on the bridge of her nose. She had laugh lines around her eyes that were pronounced by the gentle smile she wore.

I stood up and extended my hand to greet her. "Hello, Doctor, how is Michael doing?"

She shook my hand with a firm, comforting grip. "He did very well. We managed to stop the bleeding and repair the lacerations to both his spleen and liver. Though, admittedly we almost missed the tear on his liver, it was so very tiny. He's sleeping comfortably, and he'll likely be out cold for a few more hours. We gave him some great drugs," she explained with a wink and a smile.

"Dr. Laden, the neurologist, will reassess him when he wakes up. He's been breathing on his own, and he is not showing any other signs of distress at the moment. So as far as the issue of brain injury goes, we'll have to wait and see." She pushed her small, but obviously capable hands into her white lab coat.

"What do you mean we'll have to wait and see? What kind of brain injuries are we looking at?" Stephen asked. His body was rigid with stress.

"That's a tricky question to answer, Mr. Newton. The brain is a complicated thing, and it depends on what areas were most affected, if any at all. Given that the swelling was minimal and has been rapidly decreasing, if there is any injury, I would venture a guess and say it would likely be temporary," she advised. "However, this is not my area of expertise. Dr. Laden can discuss this further with you when he has the chance to reassess your son."

"Can we see him?" Carole asked, looking between Edward and Dr. Bevan.

"Of course, third floor and head to the left when you come off the elevator. Ask the clerk at the nursing station what room they've put him in."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Newton extended hands to Dr. Bevan and thanked her, both bolting from the room. Paul was close on their heels when I caught him by the arm and asked him wait for just one moment.

Edward backed away with Dr. Bevan to give me room.

"Paul, if he wakes, tell him I was here. Tell him I'll come by tomorrow. Tell him I'm sorry." I hung my head and tears pooled in the corners of my eyes.

Paul straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'll tell him you were here all night, I'll tell him you'll be back, but I won't apologize on your behalf."

Shocked, my head snapped up to look Paul in the eyes. "I…I understand." My voice crumbled, and I hugged myself in an attempt to sooth my shaky frame.

"No, Bella, you don't," he said, his voice was harsh and clipped. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I half expected him to shake me, but instead the gesture felt incredibly comforting. "I'm not apologizing for you because there's nothing to apologize for. Neither of you have done anything worthy of the shit Mike's gone through. You're not the reason he's here, Bella. Go home, go to bed, and we'll see you soon, I'm sure. Oh, and don't let Dad talk to you like that, eh?" He gave me a stern, brotherly look. "Mom told me he tired to lay into you earlier tonight, tried to blame you. She also said you set him right." His brow picked up and a gentle smirk graced his tired face. "Good, the old man needs to be put in his place from time to time. Don't take any shit from him, Bella."

Before leaving the room to join his family, he gave me quick kiss on the top of my head and a gentle squeeze of my shoulders to let me know he was there, that he hadn't eased me from his life.

I said my goodbyes to Rose and Emmett and promised them I would call later.

Less than a half hour later, Edward was carrying my sleep addled body up the stairs to his bed. I could still smell sick people and hospital clinging to him, but I was far too exhausted to do more than curl into his warm embrace.

*END NOTES* I know, we made a quick sharp turn off Happy Lane right onto Shit that Sucks Avenue, but it's just a detour. We'll make our way back. Promise. Thanks for reading! And no this never happened to my Mike, but we all know that it's not farfetched in the least. Unfortunately.

Announcements: First I'd like to declare war. Yes, war. I post this puppy on both FFN and on Twilighted and they seem to be on equal footing as far as reviews go. Well I'd like to see if someone, or site rather, can tip the scales. Most reviews for this chapter gets a shit-ton of outtakes. I have a whole chapters of stuff that never made it into the cut, so I'd like to offer that up as reward to the readers with the most reviews. These outtakes will ONLY be posted on the winning site. So READY, SET, GO!

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~That is all~

MissJanuary