Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Many thanks to Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1, my amazing beta team for this story. You ladies rock!

I updated the blog with Bella's outfit for this chapter. You can find the url on my profile.

24.

The waiting game.

"Is it wrong of me to sometimes wish James was dead?"

He turned, catching Isabella's honest gaze with his as his fingers continued their lazy trek up and down the bare skin of her arm. "If it is, then I'm just as guilty as you are," he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "I know what you're saying though. As much as I want to hate the guy for what he's done to you, I know the disease is guilty of most of it. It's just…fucked up."

They were lying side by side, the bed shifted so they could look out through the window at the clear, starlit sky. He knew that all too soon the time would come for them to say goodbye; the moments they had stolen together always too short when set against the many hours they would spend apart.

Still, he would cherish every second he had with her. It was all he could do. Well, at least until they could be together permanently.

"I wish we could stay here all day," she muttered, turning onto her side as her fingers traced the lines of his face. "Watch the sun rise and have breakfast….just act like normal couples do."

"We can have that, you know," he answered, taking her hand in his as his eyes sought her out with a promise he was dying to make. "And we will, I promise you." He couldn't wait to take her away and show her just how great the world could be outside of her isolated one. He'd show her Chicago, take her to the lake for a boat ride at Navy Pier and to the library, of course, since he'd noticed she had a great liking for books and reading. The museums were also a must as well because some of his favorite haunts when he was a kid was spent inside of those walls. It seemed almost surreal for Edward to think of doing all that stuff with Isabella, but he made a promise to himself and to her that he was going to make good on his resolve.

One way or another.

Isabella's smile was sad, her body falling back flat against the mattress as she let out a deep sigh. "Don't make any promises you might not be able to keep."

This time he was the one who turned to his side, his stare piercing as her forced her eyes back upon him. "I have every intention of keeping this promise."

"I know." She smiled apologetically. "It's just…with my past, hope is one of the most dangerous emotions to allow myself to feel."

He kissed her deeply, their bodies molding together as she made room, her legs parting to wrap around his waist as their words were replaced with kisses and quiet moans. "I will take care of you, Bella," he panted when they finally broke for air, his erection straining against the layers of fabric that separated it from her.

It took everything he had to remain a gentleman; to keep himself from thrusting blindly and finding the satisfaction he so craved. He knew he had to, though. As far as kissing and some light touching went, she had opened up to him and became more certain, and even slightly bold, as they spent time together but there was still something which made her hold back; something that stopped her from letting him inside her soul completely. And as long as that something was still there, and he could feel it standing between the two of them even when they were closely pressed together like they were at that moment, he would hold back and somehow keep himself from pushing her, knowing it was the only right thing to do.

Even if it killed him.

"You already do," she whispered, her fingers lightly cradling his face as he closed her eyes, her lips finding his as she shifted against him, bringing her center even closer to his. "If only you knew just how much you already have."

"Isabella," he breathed, his self-control slipping as he tried to still her movements, though his less rational side of him wanted nothing more than to give in; to allow her to pull him under. "We have to stop…we have to…I can't…."

"Then don't," Isabella panted, her voice breathy and almost a moan as she continued to squirm underneath him, seemingly desperate for the same kind of release as he was. "I want this just as much as you," she whispered against his neck, softly touching her tongue to him in encouragement, leaving a trail of goose bumps along its path.

Edward growled as his hips thrust strongly into her, eliciting a gasp from Isabella lips as her fingers dug into his shoulders, keeping him against her in an almost vise-like grip.

"Don't stop," she whispered, their bodies moving on instinct as they found a rhythm – pushing, brushing, holding – that would have brought both of them to their bliss had it not been for the alarm on Edward's phone going off, signaling the end of their assignation.

The growl he let out this time wasn't anything like the one with when he'd pounced on Isabella, her eyes conveying a same frustration as she tried to ignore the inevitable. "Don't stop?" she repeated herself, though the question in her voice made it clear that she was already giving up the fight.

"You know I have to, love," he answered her, reluctantly pushing his body off of her and back onto his feet as he tried to will his erection away. It wasn't easy, though, with her still lying on the bed, looking all kinds of disheveled and thoroughly kissed. "My shift starts in half an hour and you have to get back to your room before James will notice you missing…." He grinned, his eyes hungry as they roamed over her. "…or catches you sneaking into the house looking like that."

He smiled proudly at her wrinkled clothing and messy hair while she pouted, her face pulling into a scowl as her eyes traced the trail leading away from the cabin and back to the house, the moonlight illuminating the pathway just enough for it to be seen underneath the trees and undergrowth. "He wants me to make his mother's recipe for braised lamb today."

"Sounds delicious," he hummed, his mouth watering at the prospect of food as he tied his tie after vainly attempting to sort out the wrinkles in his previously so flawlessly starched Oxford.

We're both wrinkled, he thought smugly.

"Believe me, it doesn't taste as good when you've spent two hours in the kitchen preparing the damn thing," Isabella grumbled, trying to smooth out an impossible case of bed-hair as she hopped off the bed. "And when there's perfectly good pie I could buy at the grocery store."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss into her now hastily tied back hair. "At least you won't be puked on today." He grimaced, remembering a particularly unfortunate event the previous day involving a violently sick five-year-old and Edward's favorite button-down shirt.

"At least you won't be interrogated all day long," Isabella quipped, matching his complaints one-by-one as if they were playing a tennis match, then reaching up on tiptoe to right his tie before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Do you really want to play this game? You already know I'm going to win in the end." Her smile didn't reach her eyes and, though she tried to make light of the matter, he knew her feelings were anything but.

He hated it. And what he loathed most of all was that she wouldn't let him help her. There was nothing he could do except for trying to make the hours they got to spend together as good and happy as they could be so they might tie her over until the next time they met.

"I give," he smiled, his arms reaching around her waist as he pulled her flush against him, breathing in her tantalizing scent one last time before he had to go. "I'll miss you today."

"So will I," her voice was muffled by his shoulder as she held on to him. "You have to work the night shift, don't you?"

"Yeah." He sighed, wishing it wasn't so. "I won't be able to get away until Friday." Four fucking days. Four days of working nights, meaning that he couldn't sneak away to the cabin. Four days without seeing her. How on earth was he going to manage that?

"It's probably a good thing, though," Isabella reasoned, except he could see that her heart wasn't in it. "I don't think he suspects anything yet, but he might if I keep sneaking off every night. We have to be extremely careful, as much as I don't want to be." She sighed, pulling another half-assed smile onto her lips as she went on jokingly. "Besides, I could do with a good nights' sleep every once in a while to keep me from keeling over dead."

"So in reality you're happy to see the back of me as I walk away?" he teased, quite enjoying the fierce blush that tainted her cheeks as she registered his words.

"You know that's not how I meant it," she admonished him.

"I do." He kissed her again, groaning when his alarm kicked in again; the second alarm telling him that if he wanted to make it to the hospital on time, he'd all but have to fly down the damn mountain road. "Fuck! I have to go."

"I know." She smirked, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to draw strength she didn't possess. "Here, take this." She fished around in her purse – the one he'd been curious about for most of their time together - to produce a sandwich wrapped in cling film. "I noticed last time how you seemed to be kind of hungry when you left. I don't want you to skip out on meals because of me."

"God, I love you," he groaned, forgoing all other ceremony as he tore the plastic off the sandwich and inhaled it.

Both their eyes widened, the words said, though often thought and implied, never having been said between them.

"I…I mean," he stuttered.

"You have to go, right?" she interrupted him, her eyes wild with that same kind of panic that ruled her mind whenever he got too close.

He tried not to be hurt by the quick way in which she dismissed his declaration but still his shoulders slumped as he accepted her withdrawal. "I'll see you on Friday?"

She nodded, picking up her purse as she followed him out of the cabin; one more wistful look and a quick kiss shared between them before each went on their way; Edward down the one trail towards the spot near the road where he'd parked his car, Isabella back to the house.

It would never get easier, walking away from her, especially not when the words he'd spoken were left hanging between them; not discussed and unexplained.

Edward loved Isabella. He knew that, and had known it for weeks now, maybe even since that first time he'd seen her. It was just the practicalities of love and being together that they needed to work out before they would really be able to acknowledge their feelings to the world…to each other.

But time was against them.

As they continued to meet in secret, the weeks had flown by; Christmas passing with much homely celebration and frustration over not being able to see as much of each other as they would have liked and one year flowing into each other with a naturalness that belied its loud and exuberant celebration.

But yet, instead of cheering along with the crowd and marveling at the big firework extravaganza the city council had arranged, his unease had been growing even though he hadn't showed it on the outside. It was already January which meant that he had only roughly one more month until he was expected back in Chicago to resume his 'normal' job. The problem was, though, that with Isabella bound to Forks, there wasn't a bone in his body ready or willing to leave her behind.

If only she'd be willing to leave…

He sighed. Over the past weeks he'd tried reasoning with her countless times, using arguments of safety, happiness and need. But every time her answer had been the same - No.

If only he knew what bound her to the old man. There had to be more than just a sense of obligation, he could feel it in the tenacity with which she stuck to her guns; something going so deep that she wouldn't risk it for the world.

If he knew, he might have a better shot at convincing her to go with him.

The next couple of days at the hospital dragged; the cold weather and slippery roads causing the only break in the monotony since it meant an increase in patients ending up in the emergency room with concussions, broken bones and other falling down or crash-related injuries. He felt sorry for the ones who had to suffer through those injuries and relieved that none of them were so bad that with some medical attention the patients would be good as new again, but he was happy for the distraction the full ER caused.

It kept his mind off Isabella and the intense sense of longing which wanted to pull him up that damned mountain and up to the Harrisons' property every time he stopped to think.

Or even breathe.

So he buried himself in work, cherishing the few, short text messages Isabella was able to send him at night, when there was no risk of James finding out she had a phone and trying to catch up on some sleep whenever he could. For Isabella wasn't the only one feeling the strain of their late night and early morning meet-ups, not that he wanted to change it for anything in the world.

It was on the third day, with the prospect of seeing her again later that night driving him almost insane with impatience, he was waylaid by a jumpy looking Carlisle the minute he stepped out of the OR after an emergency decompressive craniectomy, saving the life and brain function of a fifteen-year-old who'd landed in the ER after an unfortunate crash in the high school's parking lot. It was the closest he'd come to performing neurosurgery – his own chosen specialty – in all of his stay in Forks and the rush of finally being able to do what he loved so much indescribable.

"Did he make it through the procedure okay?" Carlisle inquired, his footsteps quick to fall in line with Edward's.

He nodded. "I think so but it's hard to tell since he's still unconscious." He sighed, only now feeling the exhaustion that came from a good, lengthy stay in an operating room and having to be on top of his game for the duration of it. "We'll know more when he wakes up. Has the helicopter been ordered?"

"They are on standby to take the boy to Seattle as soon as you clear him for transport," Carlisle nodded, his smile filled with pride as he clapped Edward on the back. "I have to say, it's incredibly exciting to see you at work. I don't think the kid would have made it if you hadn't been around."

He shrugged, feeling both intensely proud and slightly uncomfortable under Carlisle's praise. "I was just glad I was here to help." And he was. Carlisle had been right when he said that the kid might not have survived without a neurosurgeon around to alleviate the pressure on his brain. With Forks being a small hospital which only offered basic care and the closest hospital that offered neurosurgical care being almost a whopping hundred miles away, the poor kid's brain would have fried from the pressure the trauma had caused before he would make it there.

"It's at times like these I'm so happy to have you around, Edward," Carlisle went on, accompanying Edward to the Surgical ICU but, "even being a hospital administrator I have to admit that I was kind of nervous."

"I can imagine." Edward chuckled. After all, it wasn't often that a procedure like the one he'd just performed was pulled off in a small country hospital and even he had to improvise on a few points because the hospital was simply lacking the equipment he liked to have at hand. Still, it had paid off this time. He was proud of what he did – God it felt so good to feel proud of himself again – and completely psyched up about finally being able to perform medicine again on the level that he had grown so accustomed to back in Chicago.

Carlisle nodded, seemingly nervous again as he shifted from one foot to the other in the doorway, his eyes going from Edward to the patient. "Do you think you can drop by my office as soon as you've taken care of young mister Brown?"

Edward nodded, a slight note of uneasiness creeping in as he wondered what it was that Carlisle wanted to talk to him about this time. He didn't recall setting a foot wrong, well apart maybe from his insistence to perform a high-risk neuro procedure in his hospital but Carlisle had already told him he was okay with it now that everything had seemingly gone well.

Strange.

It took him longer to make his way to Carlisle's office than he'd figured, many of his coworkers, still high on the unusual procedure having taken place in 'their' hospital, stopping him underway to get the latest news and offer their congratulations.

All, of course, except for Rachel and her little circle of friends. Things were still pretty tense there, though he had to admit that in spite of the troubles between them, Rachel's behavior on the floor was nothing, if not, professional.

He felt it, though, the glares into his back coming from the ER's admissions desk and the distinctly colder behavior some of the nurses showed towards him leaving him in no doubt of the fact that not only was Rachel still pissed at him, her friends knew about it as well.

It was no less than he deserved.

By the time he did finally reach Carlisle's office, he was already drawing close to the end of his shift; the hours that had seemed to drag on for what appeared to be forever having now flown by in the challenge of saving someone's life.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice sounded, muffled through the closed door. His brother-in-law looked up from his papers as soon as Edward came in, the nervousness that was still there barely masked by a greeting smile. "Ah, there you are."

"You wanted to speak to me about something?" Edward licked his lips, his boss' nervousness now transferred onto him as he once again wondered what it was that warranted a call into the chief's office.

"Yes," Carlisle replied thoughtfully, slowly pulling his reading glasses from his nose as he seemed to debate something. What it was, though, Edward had no idea. "There is indeed something I wanted to talk to you about."

Edward sat down, waiting impatiently for the older man to proceed until he found he could no longer bear the tension. "Is something wrong?" Had the specialists over at U-Dub Medical Centre complained about his almost cowboy-style brain surgery?

"You could say that," Carlisle sighed, the words once again coming with great difficulty until finally, and with no small amount of effort, he found his voice again. "What I am about to say goes against every professional promise I've made, but sometimes…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes you have to break a promise if it means saving a life."

Edward's breathing shortened as his mind swiftly put two and two together. This could only be about one patient, which meant…

"Isabella." Her name had left his mouth before he could stop to think about the consequences. The effect was immediate; his body restless and his leg bouncing as the cold sweat of fear started to prickle on his skin. Had something happened? Was something wrong?

"Yes." Carlisle's answering smile lacked humor but wasn't as sharp as Edward might have expected. "Don't worry, Edward, she's okay as far as I know."

Edward balked, his mind working double-time. If Carlisle knew he would fear for Isabella's safety then did that mean… "You knew?"

Carlisle chuckled. "Of course I knew! Neither you, nor your sister, had ever been very good at keeping secrets. I mean, even if Isabella hadn't consulted me on what to do, your facial expressions would have been enough to cue me in on what was going on."

"What do you mean?" Edward frowned, trying to digest Carlisle's words. "She consulted you?"

"Edward." Carlisle sighed, leaning backwards in his chair. "If you think you had it bad over Thanksgiving, then think about what it must have been like for Isabella. She may not be as expressive in her feelings for you as you may like but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel any less as strongly as you do." He shook his head as he went on. "I could see how much she was suffering, with James watching her every step like a hawk and the only shimmer of hope she'd ever let herself entertain being dashed before it could ever spring to light."

"So you told her to contact me?" He had a hard time wrapping his mind around Carlisle's confession, especially given the lecture that was still fresh in his brain. "But I thought you were against it. You told me-"

"I know what I told you," Carlisle interrupted him, "and believe me, from a professional point of view, I am still not happy about this turn of events, but…" He sighed again, toying with the legs of his reading glasses. "I'm a healer. Whenever I see someone in pain, I can't refuse to help if it is in my power to do so. I didn't tell her to contact you – she did that all on her own – but I may have helped her out on the logistics of getting the two of you back together again a little. Which brings me to why you're here."

"Something's wrong, isn't there?" His anxiety rose to dangerous levels. He knew it couldn't be really bad, since Carlisle would have told him by now if somehow Isabella had ended up in the ER again or was in some kind of acute danger but still, it had to be bad if his boss was willing to break his oath to his patient. "Are you sure Isabella's okay?" He knew Carlisle had just told him she was but he couldn't be too sure about it, not with the way his boss was acting.

"For now, she is," Carlisle nodded. "I just left her this afternoon and I can promise you that she was as well as I've seen her. It's the long-term I'm worried about." He paused, thinking carefully about the way he was going to phrase his explanation. "She's spreading herself too thin and she has been for a considerable amount of time. Now with James still being fairly well and trusting her, she got by just good enough to cope but now, with his paranoia spiraling out of control she's under close scrutiny virtually every moment she stays in his house." He shook his head, his own worry for his patient's companion apparent in his every gesture. "She's been walking a thin rope but lately it seems like that rope is getting thinner by the day. It's only time until she will crash."

"She…she didn't tell me," Edward managed to stammer, completely knocked over by Carlisle's confession. Of course he'd suspected that things at the house had been pretty miserable for her but with her never telling and him knowing better than to ask, he hadn't realized things had become that bad. Why hadn't she told him about that? Why had she kept it a secret? Didn't she trust him?

His mind warped between hurt and anger as he sat and listened while Carlisle went on. "I think she wants to protect you," the older man answered his unspoken question. "She knows how strongly you feel about her and I think she suspects that if you found out the truth – the whole truth – you'd come charging in like a knight in shining armor…or a bull in the porcelain cupboard, depending on the way you look at it."

Edward smirked. That isn't such a wild guess. Every part of him was yelling at him to get in his car right that second and get her out of there, even though he knew what a crazy plan that was. She would never leave, for starters.

Carlisle, meanwhile, went on. "Now, normally I would agree with her but today…" Another sigh. "Today I found him chasing after her through the house – well, chasing for as far as a man with severely encumbered motor skills and bound to a wheelchair can chase anyone. By the time I managed to get in through the back door, she was perched halfway up the stairs and he was hurtling abuse at her of a nature I really don't feel like repeating."

A murderous rage pulsed through his veins at the thought of his Isabella in danger at the hands of that madman, his hands balling into fists in his lap as he managed to grunt out the necessary question. "Did he hurt her?"

"Not physically," Carlisle was quick to reply. "Not as far as I could ascertain, anyway. By the time I left he was calm again and I think he'd all but forgotten the incident, but still…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence, both doctors knowing full well what was implied. If the patient had reacted like this one time, he might do it again and again and again. Until at one point Isabella might not be lucky enough to escape in time.

"What can we do?" Even as he uttered the words, Edward knew damn well that there was nothing either of them could do. Isabella was of age and no judge would ever take a look at her and deem her incapacitated.

"There's nothing, except for keeping a closer eye on her and hoping for the best." Carlisle sighed, watching as Edward became more and more agitated across the desk from him, though the younger man did a valiant attempt at hiding it. "She's made it pretty clear that she's there of her own volition and does not want to leave and he…" Carlisle let out another sigh as he rubbed his face. "From the start, when he was still of sound mind he had made sure to take all necessary precautions to prevent himself from ever being admitted to a hospital. I don't know what to do here, Edward…"

Once again Edward found himself wondering about the accuracy of Isabella's statement about 'free will'. It seemed so odd to him that a girl like Isabella – who was by no means a meek and wilting little flower – would stay in such an unhealthy environment unless her life somehow depended on it. There was only so far compassion and gratitude would stretch and Edward had a hard time believing she would go as far as to sacrifice her own life for it.

However, as the hours passed, his agitation grew, bringing him straight to the cabin after his shift ended as opposed to swinging by the house for a change of clothes and a show of appearance. He was too strung out on worry to go home, not that pacing the narrow confines of the cabin made him feel better, still, it was as close to where she was as he could get.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was in reality just a couple of hours, his ears finally picked up on the soft crunch of light footsteps treating the snow-covered gravel path that led to the cabin, his heart rate picking up as he tried to keep calm. No use in running out towards her like a five-year-old being picked up by his mommy at daycare.

But, God, did he want to do just that.

And then she was there, a blast of ice sweeping into the room as she pulled the door open and quickly stepped inside, her presence still taking Edward's breath away even after seeing it emerge from that same door countless times. It was only now, though, with Carlisle's observations still clear in his mind, that he noticed how tired and drawn she looked.

Why hadn't he noticed it before? He could kick himself for being so blinded by the overwhelming, overpowering love he felt for her that he hadn't even noticed her suffering. He, who should have made it his business to know and to protect.

She looked kind of startled, walking in from the cold with her pink cheeks and huddled inside her thick winter coat, her eyes widening as she saw him standing in the middle of the tiny space. She was quick to mask it, though, the corners of her lips immediately pulling into a coy little smirk. "And here's me thinking I was early for a change."

The lightness of her voice did nothing to abate his worries that had been building to almost unbearable levels over that past few hours. "I've been here for a while," he muttered, knowing that if he wanted to get anywhere with her, he would have to build up slowly. Railing at her like a madman would only get him dumped or kicked in the shin again. Or both.

"Oh?" She looked genuinely befuddled by that, her eyes scrunching up as she digested his words. "Did your shift end early or something? I thought with the hours you've been pulling you'd more likely be late because you overslept or something."

He shook his head. "I had a chat with Carlisle today..." He let his vice trail off deliberately, watching her face as he let the unsaid linger between them.

Isabella swallowed, looking momentarily shaken before she was back in control, her shoulders squaring as determination took over again. "What did he say?"

"He's worried." Edward was still picking his words, knowing from experience that the path ahead of him went straight through a mine field.

Isabella was faster than him, though, blurting out the first thing she could think of to diffuse the situation or, at the very, least delay what she knew was going to be an unpleasant conversation. "He's bound to be. The old man's getting worse."

He knew it was now or never, his own shoulders squaring in reflection to hers as he spoke. "And, from what I hear, he's been treating you worse as well."

All of the conviction she'd managed to muster up from somewhere in her body deflated as she sighed, slowly stripping out of her coat and snow boots as he crossed the small room and flopped down onto the bed. "What are the chances of you dropping this if I asked you really nicely?"

He raised one brow, trying to keep his frustration over her evasive measures out of his voice. "Do you even have to ask? Of course I'm not dropping this! What do you think?"

"A girl has to try, doesn't she?" Isabella shrugged, smirking slightly as she caught his building chagrin. "I'm not trying to make light of it, by the way, it's just…" She let out another sigh, lying backwards so that she could look at the stars as she explained, needing the comfort and strange sense of calm she always got when she looked up at the night sky. "Being here…being with you…it's the only escape I have. We're in only place I don't have to think about what's going on at the house. I don't want him to invade our little bubble."

"But it doesn't have to be this way!" Edward cried, his body coiled like a spring with tenseness as he sat next to her, wondering how she could stay so calm while basically telling him her life was hell. "Why do you stay here when it's so clear you don't want to be? Caring for him is a danger to your own fucking health."

"Because it's the only way I can ever really be free." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them again after taking a few deep breaths. "It's the deal we have: I serve him until he croaks and play Scheherazade as long as he can still write and, in return, I'll walk away with enough money to finally live my own life."

There had to be more to it than that. She couldn't just be risking her life because of money? "Then leave with me," he insisted. "I've got more than enough money to last both of us a lifetime. You don't need his money."

"It's not about the money, Edward. "Her eyes were begging him to see a meaning that completely eluded him. "If it had been as simple as that, I would have been out of there the first time the old man threw a book at my head." She shook her head, her eyes on the grass as she went on. "It's about freedom; the choices to do as I want and to be who I want to be. I've never had that in my life and achieving it…It's worth a few cuts and bruises."

"You'd be free if you came with me," Edward pressed, still not quite seeing what she was getting at. "I'd never stand in your way of doing whatever you want to do."

"But I'd still be dependent on you, don't you see that?" she cried. "I'd still not have a penny to my name or anything to fall back on if…" She didn't finish her sentence but she didn't need to, her smile was sad as her words hung between them. "If I see this through at least I'll know that I worked damn hard for my money. I wouldn't owe anyone or be forced to do as someone says. For the first time in my life I'd be free."

"And you'd risk your life for that?" He shook his head, unable to see her reasoning. "It can't be worth it. It can never be worth it."

"It is to me," she spat back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice sounded broken, his mind spiraling down in negativity as he still tried to recover from the words she'd spoken. Having her throw his offer back in his face time and time again had stung, but now, finding out that all this time she'd kept him in the dark about her true reasons, it was like a slap in the face. "We must have had this conversation a dozen times. Why did you not once consider that this might be something I'd want to know?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand, even if I did tell you." Her voice was losing some of its venom, though it still remained as sharp as ever.

"I might have understood if you'd been upfront about it from the start," he retorted.

She snorted sarcastically. "Don't you think that's a little bit hypocritical, coming from you? I've told you everything about myself; things I've never even told a living soul before and yet you've shared nothing. How do I know if I can trust you when sometimes it feels like I don't even know you! Who's to say you won't turn out to be the same as all my previous 'sugar daddy's' have been?"

She couldn't have delivered a harsher blow even if she tried, the stricken look on Edward's face diminishing her own burning anger like snow before the sun. "Is that what you really think of me?" he finally spoke, sounding like the wind was knocked out of him, which was pretty much how he felt as well.

"No," she whispered, her eyes remorseful as she shifted closer. "But you have to give me something to go on. I can't throw away everything I know for someone I hardly know."

"You know everything about me that's important," he breathed, his anxiety growing as he realized this was it. He was going to have to tell her everything, even if he didn't want to.

Even if he didn't feel ready, he had no choice.

If he wanted to keep her and have shot at being her protector, even when she seemed so unwilling to accept his protection, he would have to lay his cards out on the table. "You know everything about the person I am right here, right now."

"I do," she nodded, halting at an invisible barrier that seemed to have gone up between the two of them, "but I want to know about what made you become the man I love. I know about your struggle with your parents and the failure of your marriage, but there's more to it, isn't there? There's something you're not telling me."

He smiled wryly. He should have known she'd pick up on all the things he'd tried so hard to keep hidden. "Very well, then: I had to leave Chicago because I'd been caught red-handed at the hospital, stealing heavy duty painkillers from their stash…" He held up his hand to stop her from speaking, knowing that if he stopped now, he was never going to get the words out. "And I started using drugs because…because…"

"It's okay, Edward," she whispered, breaching the gap by grabbing his hand. "There's nothing you can say to me that will change the way I feel about you."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that!" He snorted deprecatingly before turning serous again, his eyes focusing on something not in the room; a face he hadn't seen in front of him in five years. "We – Tanya and I – we had a daughter; a little girl. She was so sweet and beautiful and pure…" His voice was detached now, his emotions shut out as he withdrew within himself. "She was the embodiment of everything that's good about this world…and I…I killed her."

Thoughts?