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.

This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.

Him: pronoun 1. the objective case of he, used as a direct or indirect object: I'll see him tomorrow. Give him the message. 2. Informal. (used instead of the pronoun he in the predicate after the verb to be ): It's him. It isn't him. 3. Informal. (used instead of the pronoun his before a gerund): We were surprised by him wanting to leave. noun 4. Informal. a male: Is the new baby a her or a him?

Him

The moment his lips touched mine was the moment I realized just how insane I had been thinking it was best to avoid interaction with other people–men especially.

Only he could have ever stood a chance at making me forget what it had been like.

Only Edward.

A small whimper left my lips as he pulled back, one of his hands cradling my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear as he rested his forehead against mine. And in his eyes…

Oh, his eyes.

The intensity of the emotions held inside those vibrant green eyes was so strong I was afraid it would stop my heart altogether. This was as huge a step for him as it was for me. I would have known that from the way he looked at me even if I'd never heard a thing about his past. He was changing and clinging to me like a drowning man to a life buoy. It scared me half to death almost as much as it gave me hope. Maybe he could be saved after all.

"Was that…" he started, his voice soft and his eyes shy as he drew back a little further to look at me.

I nodded, my cheeks burning as I realized just how enthusiastically I had nodded. "I…I liked that."

"Good." His grin made my heart skip a beat. "Because I kinda want to do that again."

Before I could say anything, his lips were back on mine, a little more self-assured and insistent this time as I followed his lead, basking in the closeness of my body to him as one of his arms snaked around my waist, holding me gently as if I could break.

Was this really real? I could hardly believe it was happening; I couldn't fathom being kissed by a boy like him. It had never been like this before for me, not even back in the day before Demetri Banner started to show his true colors. This…this was what all those books and movies were all about. This was what falling for someone really entailed.

And I was falling; God, I was falling so hard. Or maybe I already had a long time ago, and was only now starting to realize how much this boy–this amazing, broken man–had seeped into my every thought.

The realization made me whimper as I involuntarily pushed myself further into Edward's hold, his hold on me stronger as he started to realize just how much I was starting to crave it.

"Baby," he groaned, finally taking his lips away from mine as he rested his forehead against my own, both of our breaths were coming out in ragged pants as we reeled from what had just happened. "Is this okay?" His thumb gently stroked my cheek as his intense green eyes sought mine.

I nodded, too overwhelmed to form any sort of coherent reply.

"Not good enough," he insisted, his thumb a comfort against my overheated skin as my eyes were still held absolutely spellbound by his. "I need you to say the words…I need to know this is really, completely okay with you."

"I-I am," I relied shakily, knowing my words were the truth when I spoke them. "This is good…great." I blushed, stumbling on my words. "I just…I don't know how to act…like this, you know?"

"With a guy?" he asked, shifting on the bench to create some distance even though his touch never truly left my skin.

I shook my head. "There's only ever been…him. And you know how things between us were."

A muffled curse left his lips, the pressure of his hand around mine increasing as his rage stirred for a moment before he had it under control again. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

"It's not your fault." I shrugged. "It's just…bad luck, I guess."

"That's fucked up!" he growled, "Even though I guess the same could probably be said for me I mean…" He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "I've never really been in a real relationship with a girl either."

"But-" I frowned, remembering Rose's words of wisdom and those of all the others who had warned me about Edward and his womanizing ways.

He smirked, shifting backwards a little more as if to create distance out of the shame that was slightly visible underneath the smooth, controlled surface that reminded me so much of his dad. "Oh, I know how to sweet-talk a girl and, trust me, I know damn well how to fuck one, but I've never really wooed a woman before. At least, not the way it should be done, you know?"

I guessed I did, but still. Edward's confession left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth even though I knew I had no right to be bitter or jealous. Is that what this is?

"Look," he went on, his one hand still wedged into his hair, pulling it into an even more uproarious state of anarchy, "we'll probably both fuck up more times than I want to think about right now but what I'm saying is…I don't want to stay away from you any longer, Bella. I want to try."

My throat closed up as I swallowed hard, feeling the tears–happy tears this time–prickle at the sides of my eyes as I shifted towards him again. I'd never been so afraid in my life to speak the words but in my heart I knew I had no other choice. "So do I."

"Good," he nodded, visibly relieved as he chuckled sheepishly. "I mean…its good we're on the same page in this, right?"

I nodded, feeling equally sheepish and out of my comfort zone, though not necessarily in a bad way. "I guess so."

"I really want to kiss you right now." The timbre in his voice combined with his proximity did all sorts of things to my body I'd never thought I'd feel as I shivered involuntarily.

"Then have at it," I shrugged, acting more relaxed and 'unbothered' than I felt.

He rolled his eyes, looking as if he'd seen right through me. "Right!" he laughed as his lips connected with mine in a way I'd come to crave even though we'd only shared a few kisses before. He only let go when we were both gasping for breath, our behavior becoming more and more inappropriate for the public location we were in. "I'm really glad you called me, Bella."

"So am I." I smiled, nervously ducking my head. "I never would have believed any good could have come out of this day. Not after…"

"I'll make sure that son of a bitch never comes near you again," Edward growled, his frame radiating with fury. "Even if it means hanging around NYU as your personal bodyguard."

"As much as I'd like that, I'm sure you have better things to do with your days." I smiled, trying to wave off his concern. I was worried too; scared shitless to be honest. "Besides, if I ever want to move past this, it's time for me to face my demons instead of running away from them."

I could tell by the expression on his face that Edward didn't like that idea one bit, though he kept his protests down to the mildest form. "Well, if the asshole tries any funny business–anything at all–you call me, right? No matter how fucking busy you think I am, or whatever time of day or night it is."

"Okay." I bit my lip, awkwardly trying to stall for time since I wasn't anywhere near ready to say goodbye to him yet. "So…did you manage to think about what Lauren told us. You know about…"

"About my great grandmother possibly boning the greatest composer of the modern age?" Edward finished for me.

I cringed. "I wouldn't have put it like that but, yeah."

"Yeah," he answered, the nervous hand running through his already thoroughly messed up hair. "I have to say it kind of freaks me out a little."

I nodded, blushing. "I know."

"You know?" He frowned, his eyes meeting mine in confusion.

"My grandma–or 'Oma' as we used to call her in Dutch–was a childhood friend of Johannes', which is kind of how my obsession with him started in the first place. She…erm… They were very close."

"Oh," I could see that he got it, not that it made the heat in my cheeks burn any less.

"After that, and a couple of other things, she kind of had to leave town since people were talking and stuff and so she came to America to start a new life." I smirked, uncomfortable with admitting my dear, lovely grandmother had once been known as the village slut. "She once told me she briefly caught up with Johannes when he was touring with some orchestra but by then she'd already met my granddad and craved for a quieter, more mundane life so it didn't come to anything."

"Wow." He seemed a little uncomfortable and, really, I couldn't blame him.

"Yeah," nodded, my smirk still out in full force, "so I can pretty much imagine how it feels to find out one of your ancestors has 'stepped out of line' a little. What do you think it means, though?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his confused look speaking as loud as his words. "I mean, apart from Crazy Lola, nobody ever really spoke about the past around my place and…" He shrugged, rubbing his chest as he let out a long breath. "You've met the woman; she's not exactly the most reliable source."

"We've got the address of the maid's family, though," I offered, wanting to keep the hope of ever finding the clue to untangle this web of intrigue alive. "Maybe they can help us separate fact from fiction."

"We?" He cocked his head, the look on his face measured but hopeful.

I shrugged, still a bit uncomfortable with this thing that was happening between us, even though I wasn't about to run away from it. "I figure you're involved now, what with Amelia being your great grandmother and Johannes…" I didn't dare to finish that thought for the possible implications of it. I was a historian; a fact finder. I couldn't let hope or gossip have a place in my research. "You deserve to be at that meeting as much as I do, even more so since it affects you."

"Thanks!" He let out a deep, pensive breath as he stared off into the distance, his hands clenched around the seat. "It's all so fucking weird, you know? One moment, Johannes van Leyden is nothing more than the fucking genius who's music first made me want to learn how to play an instrument, the next you find out his family might have actually been tangled up with your own."

"We'll find out the truth," I promised, even though I knew there was no way I could guarantee that. "Even if the maid's family won't be able to help us out, I'm sure there's something there in all those papers we got from the van Leyden estate." I frowned, trying to convince myself almost as much as I was trying to convince him. "We just need to know where to look–or how to look."

He chuckled, sitting back again as his frame relaxed, his smile amused when he spoke, "I don't envy your job!"

I shrugged, feeling oddly disappointed at his failure to understand why this–exactly this–was why I loved my job. "It's like a crossword puzzle. You just have to be patient and persistent…able to look beyond the blank squares sometimes. I love it."

"I can see that." He took my hand, his long fingers wrapping around my clammy palm as he smiled a smile that sent shivers of the very best kind down my spine. "You're very passionate about history…even when you seem to be so guarded about everything else."

I snorted bitterly. "Can you blame me now that you know?"

He cocked his head in thought, his keen eyes peering at me through the fading sunlight of the late afternoon. "Not really. Although I can't imagine living my life like that…with the handbrakes constantly on."

"No, your past history definitely proves that!" I blurted, blushing furiously when I realized what I'd just said. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean-"

"No, you meant it," he insisted, looking more proud than insulted at my words, which only confused me even more. "And it was exactly what I deserved. Now own it."

"O-okay?" I hedged, never having been in a situation where a blatant insult could be construed as a good thing.

He sat back, grinning in a way that made the butterflies flutter around like crazy in my stomach. "Never hesitate to call me an asshole when I act like one because God knows it will happen again!"

I snorted, empowered by his open, if not slightly cocky, attitude. "Wow! You really know how to sell yourself, don't you?"

"That's my girl!" he praised me and, at that moment, I felt like I was ten feet tall.

And that was even before I realized he'd called me his girl. "I-Is that what I am?"

Just like that, all the cockiness was gone and left behind was just a vulnerable man, whose heart might have been trampled on as often as mine had been. "I hope so; if you want…"

I pressed my trembling lips into a smile as wide as my happiness stretched, my heart hurting and beating for this man who had come to mean so much to me in such a short, confusing amount of time. "I want."

"Good," he nodded, his relief palpable as he leaned back towards me. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"Okay," I whispered, just before his lips touched mine again.

We continued kissing and talking like that until the chill in the early evening air forced us to abandon our spot out in the open and Edward escorted me safely to the nearest subway entrance, regret slowing our steps as we neared to our goodbye.

"Call me when you get home?" he asked, his fingers lightly wrapped around mined. "And maybe we can hang out tomorrow afternoon if you don't have work or school?"

"I have to work tomorrow." I sighed, never having experienced sorrow before over something I loved to do so much. But then, there was Edward… "But we could meet up after? I…I could cook you dinner?"

"You cook?" Based from the look on Edward's face you would have thought I'd just announced a hidden superpower or something.

I shrugged, dodging the people rushing to get under ground on their way home. "Don't you?"

"No!" He snorted, still acting like I'd just asked him whether or not he could fly or shoot laser beams out of his eyeballs. "I don't even think I know anyone who can cook."

"That's just sad," I chuckled, shaking my head. "For me…it was pretty much a necessity since my dad can't cook without burning the house down and my mom has a slightly eccentric conception about what ingredients go together. It was either I learned how to cook or we had to survive on takeout and dishes like tuna-banana casserole."

He cringed, just like he should because that one had been particularly gruesome. "So you just learned it like that?"

"Nope, my Oma took pity on me and taught me all the recipes she knew, including a few traditional Dutch ones like 'boerenkool' and 'hutspot'." I grinned proudly, my mouth watering at the idea of potato and carrot mash with pulled beef. "In fact, I think I might just make you some tomorrow."

"Great!" He didn't sound as convinced of the greatness of the idea as he was letting on. "I'm sure it tastes better than it sounds.

"Believe me it does," I promised, sighing as I let go of his hand. "I'd better go now before…"

"Yeah," he nodded along, brushing his hand through his hair. "I'd better head on home as well. I've got an early meeting with my lawyer tomorrow to 'discuss my strategy'." He shrugged, trying to play down the whole legal matter when I could see in his eyes and the tension in his body that it was really affecting him. "I think the DA might have proposed a plea or something…I don't know."

"That's…good, right?" I swallowed difficultly, still having some trouble accepting this side of him; the side I hoped to God was gone.

"I hope so," he mused, looking as uncomfortable as I was feeling. "He's a good lawyer, even though he told me it was going to be hard to keep me out of jail this time."

"This time?" My voice sounded smaller and smaller as his rowdy past suddenly appeared to be prolonged.

He shrugged, his eyes not meeting mine as he explained, "A few minor things over the years. Just the usual bad luck at being caught smoking pot or underage drinking. Nothing bad, I swear."

"Okay," I accepted, already fearful of what my dad was going to say when I told him about my boyfriend. I just knew he was going to look him up in the criminal's database as soon as he found out about him, and to say he would be displeased was the understatement of the century.

"So…" Edward hedged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets. "I'd better let you go, huh?"

I nodded sadly, a little surprised when he pressed his lips to mine one more time before we finally let go, the stream of rush hour traffic pulling me underground as he, too, vanished within the crowd.

My life already seemed a little bit more empty without him; the peace and quiet of my apartment–the very same peace and quiet which, until yesterday, had seemed such a huge bonus–now swallowed me whole as I forced myself to eat before pouring over my books for well over an hour without ever really taking in any of their knowledge. Both my head and my heart were still too full of Edward to concentrate on anything but the memories.

Edward…and him.

As determined, though perhaps more than a little naïve, as I had been to put all of the past behind me when I moved back to the States, it had taken no time for it to catch up with me and now that it had, I needed to find a way to deal with it. Edward had been right: if I kept on running, there was no place on earth I would ever feel safe again. Being as it was, I just had to suck it up for the short time Banner would be in town and make sure I stayed as far away from the guy as I could without endangering my spot in the program.

It would be easy, I reassured myself as I finally gave up on studying and went to bed. After all, Historical Theory only made up two blocks in a week filled with so many things I loved to do. And how much harm could come to me in a classroom full of students?

It will all work out just fine.

But even as I drifted into a fitful sleep, I could hardly believe my own conclusions because with my bad luck, things were bound to go wrong sooner rather than later.

And boy was I right!

It was the next morning–sooner even than I would have imagined in my bleakest prospects–that a knock on my front door disrupted my morning ritual.

"Who is it?" I called out as I set my half-filled coffee cup on the table, thinking it was probably Leah or Angela.

My suspicions started to rise already when there was no answer. Strange, Leah and Angie always answer me back if it's them and I cannot for the life of me imagine who'd come around so early in the morning.

Taking no risks, I rose to tiptoe to sneak a peek at my visitor through the peephole only to fall back as soon as I made out the vague shape, separated from my safe haven by only a thin sheet of wood.

Banner.

"I know you're in there, Bella." The anguished whimper leaving my throat sounded as wounded as I felt on the inside; the scars that had never really healed ripped open again as my mind was brought back to that black spot. "You may as well open the door, sweetheart, because I'm not leaving until you do."

My heart pounded as I scrambled back in an attempt to get as far from the door as I could. What was he doing here? What was I going to do now? How would I ever get him to leave…or feel safe again?

Edward.

As soon as my mind conjured up the image, I managed to pull my body back up from the floor in a desperate urge to get to my phone; the dial tone ringing once, twice…Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail for….

I gasped, disconnecting the call and dialing again and again and again, only to be met with the same bodiless voice each time I tried; my despair grew as I debated calling the police. But what would I say? It would be my word against his…again.

"Don't make me wait all day." I cringed at the anger in his voice, having experienced firsthand what happened when I somehow managed to bring out his ire. "Did you really think you could get away from me, little girl?"

I cried, my sobs wracking through my body as I tried to keep as quiet as I could, my hand still clutching my phone as I rocked forward and backward on the floor, trying to drown out the sound of his voice.

"Hey man, what's up?" Once more my breath stopped at the sound of a familiar voice, but this time it was hope that caused me to gasp. Jake.

I couldn't hear what Bannered told him but from the sound of his muffled voice, he wasn't too pleased at being interrupted. Nor was Jake, his voice ringing clear and dangerous as he warned Banner. "Well, whether she's home or not: she's not answering her door so I s'pose you'd best be on your way again. Might attract suspicion if you hang out in a building you have no business being in."

I couldn't hear what happened next but after a minute or maybe not even that long, there was another–softer–knock on the door. "Bella?" Jake's worried voice sounded. "He's gone now. It's safe again."

Somehow, I managed to drag my body to the door, my hands shaking too much to open it even if I'd wanted to. "Thank you," I whispered unsure whether or not he could even hear me.

"Are you alright, Bella?" he insisted. "Who was that guy?"

"Just a ghost from the past," I replied, shivering in the wake of my nightmare come to life. "Really Jake, it's okay. You should head off to work before you end up being late…" It was a weak attempt but I had to do something to get him to go away.

I needed to be alone.

Alone and safe, even though I doubted if I ever would feel safe again in this house. How could I be, when he had been here, right outside my door?

As I listened to Jake's retreating footsteps I finally let out the deep sobs I'd been holding in for longer than I cared to remember, the depth of the trouble I was in sinking into my soul and I vainly tried and tried again to reach the one person in the world who could made me feel safe again.

Banner was back, I knew that yesterday. But what I knew now was so much worse than just the fact that he and I were breathing the same air again.

He would never let me go.

Thoughts?