Chapter 26

Thursday, August 9, 2012

I stop by to see Edward in the morning, but like yesterday, Dr. Evans is with him when I arrive, so I tell Alice to let him know I'll see him at four.

My day is pretty ordinary, and I'm relieved I'm not spending it anxious and nearly panicked as I did the last two. Edward needing to have a feeding tube is certainly not a step in the right direction, but at least, I know what's going on now. I'm not happy with the way things seem to be going for him, but I feel like we can handle anything, as long as he lets me in and we do it together.

This afternoon when I walk through the door, Edward is lying with his head turned toward the right, effectively hiding the tube in his nose and looking away from me as much as possible. He looks haggard today—even more so than yesterday. For the first time ever, he seems small and frail to me as he lies in his bed. He looks like a patient with a terminal illness.

I purse my lips and walk over to his right side, which I never do. The tube comes out of his right nostril and is taped along his cheek; it then goes over his ear and is clipped to his nightshirt.

I stand there until he casts a quick glance up at me, and then I lift his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. Sorrow and despair are reflected back at me, his eyes a watery green from unshed tears. "Hey, there's no shame in this. You're not giving up, and that's the important thing. You're doing what you need to do to stay alive."

He closes his eyes. "Then why do I feel ashamed … and embarrassed? I'm dying by inches, conceding a piece of myself at a time, which is exactly what I didn't want to do."

"Don't think of it that way. Please. And don't concede. You don't have to give this disease anything easily."

"Give?" Edward says, his tone incredulous and more than a little edgy. "It's not about giving, Bella. It's about taking. This disease is taking whether I want to give or not, and very soon, it's going to kill me. I thought I understood that. I thought I was ready for it. I thought I could accept what was happening to me.

"Fuck!" Edward swears, pounding the bed with his fist and wincing as pain ripples through him. "I thought I had everything under control, but … I'm … scared, Bella. Jesus, I'm fucking terrified. This is really going to happen, and I don't have any control …

"I lied to myself. I convinced myself that by having the DNR, I'd have control over how my life ends, but it's a lie. The cancer has all the control here, and I'm an idiot for thinking any different." His hand is gripping his hair tightly, his eyes glazed with panic and fear.

My heart clenches in my chest. All the walls he's constructed are coming down at once, and I need to catch him, lest he fall too far.

I reach up and remove his fingers from his hair, taking his hand between mine and rubbing gently. "No, you're not an idiot. You're doing the best you can to deal with the hardest thing anyone ever has to deal with. And in a way, the DNR does give you control. You can't stop the cancer from killing you, but you can choose to end your life before you lose too much of yourself. I understand that now. And you can still have that power, that control. You just … need to do a few things before you're ready to take that step.

"Edward, I know you're scared. Actually, I'm glad you're finally afraid because I knew you were in denial and hadn't confronted your fears. It's normal to be scared; I would be too. Hell, I'm scared for you. But you're not alone. You've got Jasper now, and I just know your mother will come if you call her, and … I'm here too. I'm going to be here every day, and I'm going to help you get through this."

"So this is … normal?" he asks, looking to me for answers as a young boy would.

"Yes, sweetheart, it is. Everyone I've ever known has hit the point where they have to confront their fear. But you can do this; I know you can."

Edward bows his head, a sob escaping him as a tear rolls down his cheek. I reach over and put my arms around him, pulling his head onto my shoulder. He grunts, but he holds tightly to my arm, his cheek pressed into my shoulder.

"I don't know how to deal with this. I feel like I'm falling apart, and there's nothing left to hold on to," he whispers brokenly.

"Hold on to me, sweetheart," I choke out as my own tears begin to fall. "I'm right here, and I'll take care of you."

We sit that way for a long time, lost in our separate thoughts, until I realize Edward's breathing is now soft and even. He's asleep on my shoulder. The last two days have been hell for him, and he probably hasn't gotten much rest, so I reach up and support his head as I lower him slowly back against the mattress. He grimaces, but he doesn't wake, and as I stare at his angelic face, my emotions threaten to crush me.

Seventy-two hours ago, I had the best date I've ever been on, right in this very room, with the wonderful man in front of me. He was sweet and funny, adorable and perfect. He still is, but now it's buried deep down under what this disease is doing to him. Under his pain and heartache. Under his panic and fear. Under his feeling of isolation. And I wonder if I'll ever get to see him that way again.

In such a short span of time, things have gone from bad to worse, and I hope Edward is as strong as he's always appeared—strong enough to fight through the fear and come out on the other side. I clasp his hand and say a silent prayer that this won't be too bad for him—overcoming their fear has always been the hardest thing for all the patients I've ever worked with.

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Friday, August 10, 2012

It's bad. When I arrive the next morning, Alice tells me Edward didn't sleep most of the night, so I resist the urge to peek my head in, afraid I'll disturb him. My day passes in a haze of distraction, all my thoughts on Edward and how his day is going.

At four o'clock, I'm in my usual spot, standing in his doorway. His eyes are closed, but I can't tell if he's sleeping or not. Even if he is, I still want to see him today, so I creep quietly to my chair, planning just to sit beside him for a while even if he's not awake.

As soon as I sit down, he opens his eyes, and I feel the familiar twinge in my stomach that flash of bright green always brings. But today, the green is dull and haunted. He doesn't smile—he just stares at me for a moment before mumbling, "Hey, Bella."

"Hello, Edward," I say, smiling and taking his hand.

He looks down, unable to meet my eyes. "I'm not in any shape for company today."

I rub my fingers over his knuckles tenderly. "You don't have to entertain me. I know how upset you are right now, and that you have a lot to think about. Can I just sit here and keep you company? You don't have to talk. I can tell you about my day, or we can just sit here quietly, but … I want to be with you. Is that all right?"

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and I'm relieved beyond words that he's not going to push me away. That was my biggest worry—that his fear would drive him to keep everyone away from him.

"Yeah. Thanks, Bella," he answers, and the sadness in his voice makes my heart ache. I desperately wish there was something I could do for him, but I know he just needs time.

We sit quietly, and Edward's so lost in himself that he doesn't speak for the entire two hours I'm there. Most of the time, his eyes are closed, but I know he's not sleeping, and when they're open, he's staring off into space. I still hold his hand, though, running my fingers soothingly over his knuckles when he looks distressed, channeling support through my fingers.

At six o'clock, I give his hand a gentle squeeze. "I should go, Edward, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

He nods absently, unable to look at me, and I just can't take the distance. I sit on the edge of his bed and lean over, pressing my lips softly against his.

His response is immediate—his lips move hungrily against my own, almost desperate, and I whimper as flame kindles in my chest. I try to deepen the kiss, but my nose brushes against the tube coming from his, and he pulls back as if he's been burned, his eyes snapping open.

The sorrow and … horror in his eyes takes my breath, and a strangled sob lodges in my throat.

Edward bites his bottom lip hard, and his face contorts into a pained grimace as he squeezes his eyes shut again. "Bella, I can't … not like this. It's too much and I can't …" he trails off and drops his chin, folding in on himself and turning his head away from me.

I blink to let the tears fall so I can see him again and run my fingers into his hair.

He scrunches up his face even more, but I continue to stroke him until he relaxes a little bit.

"It's all right, Edward. I understand. I'm here for you, whatever you need, and I'm not going anywhere," I whisper as I lean down and kiss his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I leave quietly, hoping he's not going to break down the moment I'm out of earshot, but I really think he will. I curse myself for upsetting him even more, but I just had to know if he'd let me give him comfort that way. I guess I should have known the answer.

And that's the way our days go for the entire next week. When I arrive on Saturday, Edward's feverish, and it's obvious he's had morphine, but if anything, it's made his mood even worse. He's completely shut down. I try to talk to him, tell him about my day, but he interrupts me and asks if I can just hold his hand and be with him. My heart feels like it's shattered in my chest, but I do as he asks.

Sunday is much the same, and I wonder about the morphine. I tell Alice about his previous addiction, and she cuts him off when he asks for it on Monday, telling him he can't escape from reality that way, and he can only have it when he truly needs it. He's pissed, but he's so withdrawn that he doesn't even give me hell for ratting him out, even though I'm sure he knows I'm to blame.

By Monday, I can't deny Edward has fallen into a deep depression. Now that he can't hide from his reality through morphine, he's decided sleep is the best way to escape. He drifts in and out of consciousness when I visit, not caring about the day or time. And everything seems harder for him. I didn't realize how much effort he was putting into being positive and ignoring his condition until he stopped completely. He's scratching more often, not caring if he breaks his skin, and he always looks exhausted. Pain is his constant companion. He lies with his arm perpetually curled over his belly, grunting at even the slightest motion and sometimes even when he's perfectly still.

Jasper calls me on Monday, frightened by the change in Edward, so I explain to him what happened the week before with the feeding tube. Apparently, Edward hasn't been too forthcoming with Jasper about what's been going on.

I explain to him what Edward told me about being afraid, and that we just have to be there for him and wait for him to snap out of this. Even though I'm not so sure myself, I reassure Jasper that Edward will snap out of it, and although Jasper's still unhappy and worried, he agrees. I ask him to keep visiting Edward, even if he's not very responsive, and Jasper assures me he's not going anywhere. At least, there are two of us in Edward's corner for the long haul.

I sit with Edward every day, watching and hoping that he has the strength to come to terms with his fears and to realize that now he needs to make peace with his mother, and make the most of the time he has left. I miss him terribly. I hadn't realized how much I was depending on that brilliant smile, those shy glances and kind words. It's as if the beauty of his soul has already been extinguished, even though he's still sitting right in front of me, and the thought of him living like this is actually worse than the thought of him dying.

I comfort him when he'll let me, holding his hand or stroking my fingers through his hair. I don't try to kiss him again. It's too much for him now, but I hope that when he snaps out of this, he'll realize he wants to kiss me again and as much as possible while there's still time, but I don't know. All I can do is wait and hope.

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Friday, August 17, 2012

I wake up early on Friday morning after a poor night's sleep. I haven't been sleeping well all week, my worry for Edward overwhelming pretty much everything, including my dreams. It's been a week since we talked about him confronting his fear, and every day, I've watched him slip deeper into depression. I've been there, I've supported him, and I've watched every day for any sign that he's coming to terms with what's going on in his head, but I've seen none.

This has gone on long enough.

He's dying, but he's not dead yet, and he can't stop time, so his only alternative is to move forward. What he's been doing for the past week is wallowing, and while I completely understand it, I can't let it continue. He's so strong; I know he can handle his fear better than this—I just have to help him see.

I head to the fourth floor first, but I have no plans to wake him. He's been asleep every morning this week when I've come by, and I've only looked in briefly on him to make sure he was okay. He was feverish on Saturday and Sunday, and then again on Wednesday, but other than that, his condition has been the same. Thank God, nothing new has happened this week—I don't think he could have handled anything more in his current state of mind.

I open his door enough to peer around it and find him sleeping. His face is turned toward me, which is a sight I haven't seen much of this past week. He's still self-conscious and upset about the feeding tube, so he hides it as much as possible by keeping his head turned to his right. That and he can't seem to look at me for very long without getting really upset. I understand, though. What happened between us last week, while wonderful, has made everything harder for both of us, and particularly for him.

I gaze at him for a few moments, drinking in the beauty of his peaceful face: long eyelashes resting on the dark smudges under his eyes and soft auburn hair trailing down across his forehead. He's just as beautiful as he ever was, and my heart clenches at the sight. I sigh and close the door softly, eager for the afternoon so I can see him awake and talk to him.

As I head for the elevator, I see Alice at the nurse's station, and she waves me over the minute she sees me. I've talked to her a few times this week, but she's been really busy, so we haven't had the chance to connect.

"Bella, I'm really starting to worry about Edward. Has he talked to you at all?"

"No, he hasn't, but I'm going to try to fix that today. I've been giving him space to deal with the way he's feeling on his own, but he's not handling it as well as I'd hoped."

"No, he's not," Alice confirms, looking at me sadly. "He's barely speaking to any of the nurses now, and he hasn't spoken to me at all since I cut off his morphine on Monday. I thought he'd given up when he first came here, but damn, it was nothing like the way he is now."

I close my eyes in pain. "I know. He's really depressed right now, but he can't stay this way until the end. He's stronger than this—I just have to get him to see that. I'm going to talk to him about it this afternoon, and hopefully, I'll be able to make a dent."

"Well, good luck," Alice says, patting me on the back. "He's strong, but he can also be pretty determined when he puts his mind to something."

"Don't I know it! He's pretty rational, though, if you can explain things in a way that makes sense to him. I hope I can get through to him."

"If anyone can, it's you," Alice says, smiling at me.

I smile back at her encouragement and head off to my day, feeling a little more empowered.

By the time it gets to four o'clock, though, I'm feeling anything but empowered. What if he won't listen to me? What if my words have no effect on him and he slides deeper into depression? What if he truly doesn't care anymore, and there's nothing I can say to change that?

My own fear threatens to overwhelm me as I head for his room, but I have to do this. For him, and for us.

Edward is staring at the far wall as I walk in. I make the door squeak on purpose, trying to draw his eyes, but he doesn't acknowledge me.

He closes his eyes as I cross the room, already preparing to hide from me, but I'm undaunted. I take his hand between both of mine, rubbing gently, and thanking God he's not too warm today.

"Hello, Edward. How are you?" I ask, trying to engage him in conversation. I've said almost nothing to him all week, respecting his wishes that I just be there, but today is most definitely going to be different.

Edward ducks his chin a little, but he doesn't answer, so I reach out and caress his cheek a few times before grasping his chin and turning his face to me.

He doesn't look up.

"Edward, I want to talk to you today. You don't have to talk back, but I want … I need you to listen."

He glances up at me, the pain and sorrow in his eyes piercing my soul. His face crumples as he squeezes his eyes shut, but he says nothing.

"We need to talk about what's been going on this last week."

Edward flinches back, pulling his chin way from me, and I see anger in his eyes. But I'll take it because it's the first active emotion I've seen from him in days.

"No," he says calmly but with conviction. "There's nothing to talk about." It's the most he's spoken to me in a week.

"Yes, there is. I've sat here for a week and supported and comforted you, giving you time to work through your feelings about what's happening to you. I've watched and hoped you would come to terms with it, that you would move forward on your own, but you're not.

"Edward, you're strong—stronger than anyone I've ever known. I've known you for almost two months now, and I've watched you deal with the most difficult situation I've ever seen. And until you let me in, I watched you deal with it all on your own.

"I don't agree with the decision you made, but it took great strength to make it. And it took great strength to change that decision, to let Jasper back into your life, and to let me get to know you.

"It also took great strength to try to wrest control of your situation away from the cancer by setting up your DNR so you could choose your own death instead of letting the cancer choose.

"I know you're scared. I know the feeding tube was the straw that broke the camel's back. It made you realize you're really going to die, and that you're not ready. But, Edward, no one is ever truly ready. The most you can do is accept what's going to happen and the fear that comes with it, and move forward.

"But I've watched and waited, and you're not moving forward, and by doing that, you're letting the cancer win."

Edward glances up at me, a mix of sorrow and confusion in his eyes. But this proves he's actually listening, so I press forward.

"You've always said you don't want to let the cancer win all the battles, that you wanted to win the final battle by taking control. But this past week? You've been letting the cancer win the biggest battle of them all—the battle for your soul. This week, you've let it own you, and to me, that's a much bigger victory than just taking your life. If you allow it to break your spirit, then the cancer has truly won long before it actually kills you."

Edward furrows his brow, thinking hard, and a spark of hope kindles in my chest.

"You can't let it do this to you. You can't just give up and sit here, waiting to die. You may not be able to stop it from killing you, but you certainly can stop it from killing you before it truly is time. You have control. You have control over what you do right now and every day until you have no more. I know I've said this to you before, but I don't think you were ready to listen then. I think you're ready now.

"Edward, this is all the time you have. Please, please, don't waste it. Show the cancer that it can't break you, and do the things you want to do until you can't anymore. Call your mother and make peace with her. Spend time with Jasper and me. Talk, laugh, live. Live every day as if it were your last because you know that day is coming. But every day you go to sleep happy is another day the cancer didn't win."

Edward bites his lip and closes his eyes, and the spark in my chest ignites into a flame. I've gotten through. He's turning over my words in his mind, and they're working on him. I need to leave and let them do their job—I've done all I can; he has to do the rest.

"I'm going to go now because I think you need some time to think about what I've said. Please, please, think about it, for me. You're very … special to me, and I just can't bear to see this break you. Not when I know you have the strength to do so much more.

"I'll come tomorrow afternoon," I tell him, leaning in to kiss his forehead softly.

He opens his eyes as I pull away and squeezes my hand before releasing it. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to—he's thinking about what I said, and that's enough, for now. I walk out of his room feeling better than I have since our date. Because for the first day in all that time, I truly have hope.

A/N: Do you think Bella managed to get through to him? Teaser in Shadow Fics tomorrow, and Chapter 27 will post on Thursday.

Music for Chapter 27: One and Only by Adele. The link can be found in the Come Back Tomorrow playlist on YouTube and in Shadow Fics.