AN:

When we last left our Doucheward, he was taking a nasty shot to the face... But from who? While many of you were in agreement, guesses included Alice, Ronan, Emmett and Jasper.

Who was it? Let's find out!

As always, SM owns Twilight. I do not.

Songs referenced in this chapter:

Help, I'm Alive - Metric - www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=we_czU9sJ3g&ob=av2n
Beautiful Goodbye - Amanda Marshall - www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=T1VinBlssgg

Important end note coming!

Special note for FF readers: Due to their URL restrictions, you may see strange looking links in 'Tweets'. This is why I recommend reading this story in particular on Twilighted if you have the option. :p on you, FF!


"Get up!" Ronan demanded a second time, slamming Edward's apartment door behind him. "We have a hell of a lot to settle, Cullen."

Edward cursed inwardly, his palms pressing against the floor as he struggled to his feet. The alcohol numbed the pain of a dozen tiny cuts, slivers of glass piercing flesh as his shoes skidded and nearly slid out from beneath him. Ronan. Fuck. He'd forgotten entirely just how protective Bella's 'big brother' could be. His eye began to swell immediately, Ronan's jab having landed perfectly, obscuring his already hazy vision.

"Ronan," he mumbled. "Lemme explain-"

"No, Edward; you're going to let me explain a few things first," Ronan interrupted, his face flushed with anger. "And you're going to look me in the goddamn eye like a man, instead of the frightened selfish child you were when you abandoned Bella."

Edward reacted instinctively - or perhaps drunkenly - to Ronan's aggression. In a moment of absolute stupidity, Edward's fist shot out, hoping to make contact with Ronan's set jaw. In a blur of motion that left him queasy, Edward wailed as Ronan seized his arm and wrenched it behind him, his shoulder strained to the limits of the connective tissues within.

"Let's try this again!" Ronan snapped. "I ran with gangs for three years in L.A. before I moved here. If you doubt that I know seventeen ways to kill you with my bare hands, by all means, keep fucking fighting me!"

Edward whimpered, his body growing slack as his stomach churned. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. In his mind, Bella was shaking her head, auburn waves tumbling side to side. "Doucheward, keep your damn temper!"

"Sorry, Bella," Edward mumbled, "Won't 'appen 'gain."

"Bella?" Ronan sighed, shaking his head as he caught a whiff of Edward's breath. "You change your name to Jack fucking Daniels, Edward?"

Ronan released his arm, shoving him mercifully onto the couch, Edward's legs flopping upwards before settling to the ground with a dull thump. His shoulder still ablaze, he was helpless to protest as Ronan scoured the living room before stepping into the kitchen, where he found new reasons to shout.

"What the hell is all this? Are you trying to kill yourself, Cullen?"

"Maybe," Edward muttered, head lolling back against the cool leather. Probably.

Ronan emerged from the kitchen, clutching the half-empty bottle of scotch that remained, "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a goddamn black pot to match Bella's kettle?"

"Huh?"

"You're a bloody hypocrite, Edward!" Ronan angrily declared, storming back into the kitchenette. From within, Edward could hear the distinct and rather disturbing sound of liquid pouring into the sink. That's... not a good sound. That's a sad, goodbye booze sound.

"Hey," Edward protested weakly, struggling to stand, "That's mine!"

Ronan returned to the living room, his gaze fixed on Edward's clammy face as his hand shoved him backwards, Edward's legs buckling. Fine; I'll sit, then, Edward thought angrily. A droplet of blood trickled down onto his wrist, the glass embedded within it now beginning to sting.

"Edward," Ronan began, struggling to contain his anger, "Do you know how many times I've had to pull a bottle away from Bella, all the while listening to her whine that it was 'hers', that she 'needed it'? Do you know how many times I've stolen her keys from her purse to make sure she didn't drive?" Ronan sighed deeply, his eyes glazing over as if remembering some distant time. "Too many fucking times. Know how many times I told Charlie he should get her into rehab? None."

"She wouldn't have gone," Edward said, picking at the glass in his left hand. "Too stubborn."

"Maybe so," Ronan conceded. "But we could have forced her into it. We could have had her declared unfit to make decisions or whatever it's called. Charlie's a cop, Edward; he'd know how. But I didn't say shit. Jacob didn't say shit, either. Even Billy Black, Jake's dad, didn't have the balls to tell Chief Swan that his little girl was a disaster waiting to happen. You know why I'm telling you this?"

Edward shook his head, "No, and you poured out my scotch, so do me a favour. If you're going to kick my ass, just fucking do it. My head hurts too much for this shit."

Ronan huffed, "Yeah, I did want to kick your ass. I promised you that I would, didn't I? Didn't I tell you if you hurt her that I'd come knocking on your door? But seeing this," Ronan paused, glancing around at the garbage and broken bottle on the floor, "I realize that there's no point. You're already doing a damn fine job of hurting yourself for me."

"Peachy. No go the fuck away, an' leave me alone!" Edward snapped. Anger, he was fast discovering, was unfortunately sobering for him.

"Can't do that, Cullen. Not until you open your goddamn eyes and see what you're doing."

Edward growled, struggling to his feet, "You think I don't know? You think I didn't know the moment I got in my fuckin' car that I was a worthless piece of shit? A pussy? You think I haven't seen her Twitter flooding with song after song that tells the story of how I broke her?"

"No," Ronan said quietly, "I think you do know that much. I think you know that leaving a woman who depended on you - a woman who doesn't trust anyone easily - in the most fragile of states was a huge act of stupidity and cowardice. What you don't seem to fucking understand, Edward, is why you really ran away."

"It was too much!" Edward insisted. "It was Bella, and Tanya, both of them in my head, wanting and wanting from me. And none of it made sense! Bella isn't stupid, but she was stupid! And I just saw bodies, bloody, mangled bodies in my fucking head that wouldn't go away, wouldn't stop screaming. I couldn't see how Bella-"

"Shut up," Ronan snapped. "It wasn't about Bella at all. Alice told me about Tanya, Edward. I am truly sorry for your loss, and I understand how much it hurts to have someone ripped away from you. My mother was gunned down by some little shits trying to take my neighbour out over drug money owed. I held her as she died, man. I will never get the blood off of me," he added, his voice cracking. "I still see it, sometimes, on my knuckles."

"I-I'm sorry-"

"I don't want your apology or sympathy," Ronan snapped. "I want you to wake the fuck up and understand that when you left Bella, left her somewhere she wasn't safe, you weren't running away from her, or from what happened with Rachel Black. In your head, man, you saw yourself. You saw Tanya dead in your mind, not Rachel. And like every guilt-driven man, you ran away."

Edward shook his head, pushing past Ronan to stare out the picture window of his living room. "No... No, I..."

"Ever hear of Freud, Edward?" Ronan pressed. "Or hey, let's go with an easy one. If you can answer one simple question for me in a logical fashion, I'll fucking walk out of here right now, and never bring this up again."

"What?" Edward snapped, pressing his bleeding hands to the glass.

"Bella used to drink as much as she did to escape her pain and guilt over her mother. You're drinking right now, as you've always done since I met you, to drown your sadness and guilt. Why is it okay for you?"

Edward shook his head furiously, "I don't drive-"

"Fuck the driving shit! Don't give me that. You've picked more than your fair share of bar fights, buddy, from what Alice tells me. You put me to shame, and I'm Irish! Why do you wanna fight so damn much when drunk, huh, Edward?"

"Fuck you, Ronan," Edward spat.

"Because you want to hurt. Because secretly, there's a part of you looking to check out, but you won't let him speak up anymore-"

"Shut up," Edward growled, kicking the wall.

"Just like Bella would hope to roll her goddamn truck over a cliff and stop breathing!"

"No more," Edward whimpered, blinking hard as tears began to fall. "Just go, please..."

Ronan's hand gripped his shoulder, spinning Edward around to face him. "You didn't kill Tanya, Edward. Bella didn't kill her mother, or Rachel. And projecting all of your guilt onto a concept, like drunk drivers, won't make the guilt you feel go away. It's just a band aid solution to the fact you need professional help."

"But," Edward whispered, "But I... I..."

"You fought. People fight, Edward. Bella had PMS and didn't feel like driving around with her mom all day. Shit happened beyond the control of either of you. As much as the two of you, in your freakish similarity, like to believe you are responsible for the fate of the world, you aren't that important! If you'd fought on the phone and Tanya had tripped down her stairs after hanging up, would you blame yourself for making her too angry to handle walking?"

Edward frowned, "That's different."

"No, it really isn't. It's an accident. If Bella and Rachel had been just standing there and a gust of wind made Rachel fall, would Bella be responsible for the wind? Fuck, no. If you called Bella right now, said something dumb, and she slipped in the shower while crying, would you blame yourself for being drunk and mean? Or would you laugh together over her clumsiness as they stitched up her head?"

Edward struggled through the haze of booze and physical pain to carefully weigh Ronan's words, their strange parallels with Andy's theories meshing with his own worst fears into a whirling cascade of words and emotional turbulence. Was it possible that Andy was right about his theory, that the woods had not seemed overwhelming because of there being two women where once just one stood, but two men?

Had he run away from Bella in some twisted attempt to outrun himself?

"If you're going to blame someone for Tanya, blame the fucker driving. But Bella didn't kill anyone while driving, Edward. She didn't make Rachel fall. If that lightning didn't strike when it did, it wouldn't have startled them. Rachel probably would have run for help, and Bella would probably be dead, instead. In fact, if you wanna blame anyone for Rachel, blame her brother. Blame me."

"You?"

Ronan anguished face turned away, his hand releasing Edward, "Like I said, man, we should have made her get help. We had a year to see the signs and do something. Of course, Bella won't see it that way," Ronan added sadly. "She takes all the blame, without hesitation. She never tried to correct the Quileutes about how Rachel actually fell. Bella, being Bella, simply allowed them to scapegoat her and demonize her, because if it would help them feel better, it was the least she thought she could do She took the insults, the rumours, the hateful phone calls... Hell, she would have let Sam slug her if it made him feel better that day, you know that?"

Edward frowned at this, the once constant and all-consuming desire to protect Bella, to keep her safe, flooding him, "If he'd done that, I would have killed him with my bare hands. Bella's sick! It's not like she..." His voice trailed off, the realization sinking like a stone in his stomach, "Oh, God... I fucked up. Ronan, I fucked up so bad."

Edward slumped to the ground, unable to see through the tears as he curled his fists, wincing as he drove a sliver of glass deeper. He's right. He's right. I ran from her because in my head, she was like... me. And I hate myself! I fucking hate myself for hurting Tanya, for hurting Liz, for hurting Alice... And her. I hate myself for hurting Bella. I'm so STUPID!

"Hey, Edward, people fuck up," Ronan said, kneeling beside him, "But people forgive, right? Forgive mistakes, if people are sorry?"

Bella made a big mistake, but if anyone is sorry for ever fucking up, it's her. Edward shook his head, looking to his bloody hands. We all have blood on our hands, of some kind. I promised I'd take care of her.

"Bella won't forgive me," Edward sobbed, bowing his head.

"Shit, your hands are a mess," Ronan mumbled, examining them. "And yes, yes she will. Because just like you, she's blaming herself for you walking away. She won't speak a bad word about you at all, and she won't listen to anyone else shit on you, either. You're sickeningly perfect for each other, if you'd both stop wallowing and start standing together!"

Ronan rose to his feet, his boots thumping down the hallway towards Edward's bathroom. He listened as Ronan ran water and slammed cupboards, cursing under his breath over something down the hall. Bella shouldn't forgive this. I let her down. I failed. The urge to swipe at his tears was met with infuriating rage that doing so would drive glass into his corneas, and he began to pick at a larger sliver embedded in his right palm.

"Doctor's son, through and through," Ronan joked, returning with a washcloth and a first aid kit. "Best fucking kit I've seen in a house without children, man. Give me the hands."

Edward reluctantly obeyed, feeling weak as Ronan used a set of tweezers to remove the six shards lodged in his hands, placing the bloody glass on a large square of gauze. With a gentle cleaning by washcloth removing the worst of the blood, Ronan nodded to himself, closing up the case.

"Those look pretty closed, all in all."

"Thanks," Edward mumbled.

"Well, I did throw your dumb ass through a glass door," Ronan noted, shrugging. "Seriously, Edward: if you know leaving her was a shitty thing to do, why haven't you called her?"

"It seemed... It's too late to make it okay for her," Edward explained, his voice low, "You said it: she doesn't trust people. How would she trust me again?"

"With time, asshole. God, you two hurt my head," Ronan complained. "Alice said you'd be exasperating, but fucking hell!"

"Alice? What do you mean?"

Ronan smirked, "You don't think I just found out today about your asinine move, do you? I only waited until today because Alice told me to give you a little time to do things right. Granted, she didn't know I planned to leave a few shiny bruises on your face, but she knows I came here today."

The text message. Edward groaned, shaking his head in anger. "Fucking TinkerHell."

"Hey; you lay off her! Who do you think has been trying to keep Bella from going off the damn deep end?"

"I'm going to owe her another purse, aren't I?" Edward asked.

"Probably a whole fucking outfit, bro," Ronan agreed. "You should call her; she's worried about you, even though she's pissed about Bella."

"Yeah, I should, but... Bella would talk to me?" Edward sighed, "It's been two days."

Ronan nodded, "She might be hurt, or aloof, but if she heard your voice, heard you tell her that you bailed over your own shit, not hers... It would do a world of good. She's in a bad way, Edward. I've seen this before, that vacant look she gets, and last time... Well, just fucking call her, okay?" With a deep breath, he nodded. "Anyway, I have to go. Bella should be out of her appointment soon and I have to drive her back to Forks."

"That's right; she sees Michelle the same day I see Andy..." Edward's voice trailed off. "I should come with you."

Ronan froze at Edward's door, the knob gripped tightly in his hand. "What?"

"She needs to see how sorry I am," Edward insisted. "I owe her this in person. Maybe she can blacken the other eye," he joked weakly.

"Yeah, that shiner's gonna hurt. Look, it's up to you. But I have to hurry, and you know how slow her damn truck goes."

"You guys took the truck?" Edward winced, "I really wish she'd replace it."

"It's her pride and joy, for some reason," Ronan said, rolling his eyes. "Go change your damn shirt, too; you stink, Cullen."

Edward sniffed his shirt reluctantly and gagged. "Um, yeah. Two seconds."

Edward stumbled down the hallway to his bedroom, sobering up slowly as he reached for the emerald green t-shirt Bella always complimented him on. I can do this. I will get down on my knees and tell her I never should have just left. I should have taken her home, or taken her to Alice, anything but leave her lying there. And then she can kick me in the gut, and I will accept that. Tugging the tee over his head, he reached for his deodorant, nodding to himself. I have to earn back her faith. And I have to get my shit together. For Bella.

"Cullen!" Ronan shouted.

"Chill out! I'm coming!"

I'm coming, Bella.


Bella stared out the window of Michelle's office, watching cars glide by on the road, her tired eyes blurring them into a streak of colours. She sang softly, her fingers tapping out a melody on the window pane, willing her mind to stop spinning with images of knives and blood.

"...Help, I'm alive. My heart keeps beating like a hammer..."

Every second, breathing felt harder, the movements of her chest exhausting what little energy she still possessed. She patted the pockets of the hoodie gently, inhaling deeply as she buried her face in the lining. Edward. His scent lingered everywhere, her bedroom riddled with emotional landmines. And just like a child, she couldn't resist pressing her fingers into the flame, just to touch, just to hold that flicker of light remaining.

"...Hard to be soft; tough to be tender..."

The door creaked open behind her and she startled, stumbling backwards. "Sorry about that, Bella; my conference call with a colleague ran a bit late."

"Sure."

Bella sat down reluctantly in the chair, staring at her fingers. Each nail had been bitten until the cuticles were raw and bleeding. It was her only way to resist the sharp objects that seemed to be everywhere, taunting her and glistening. A metal smile.

"Bella, you seem upset," Michelle began. "Did something happen since our last session?"

Bella frowned, "Can I not just feel shitty? Must there be a damn reason for everything?"

"Of course, there could be no specific reason," Michelle replied, "But I've seen you on days that are simply hard, and days where you're troubled by something in specific. It's a different look on your face today, and it worries me."

Bella rolled her eyes, raising them to glare at Michelle. "Fine; you kept telling me to trust Edward with my secret, so I did. And like I kept telling every damn one of you, he left me! I was right, and you were all wrong. There you go, Michelle; there's my reason for feeling upset. My reason for living just walked out on me, because he knows I'm a murderous bitch whose fucking drama has a body count!"

"Bella, I'm so sorry to hear that. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Bella laughed bitterly, "Would I like to tell you what? That I was a goddamn drunk who got too high to stop one of my best friends from slipping off a cliff during a storm? That her brother wishes I'd died instead? That my father is still disappointed in me, that I still have nightmares once a week of her face beneath the water, of the way her blood stained the sand? Or hey, let's talk about how Edward's first love died because of a drunk like me, only he smashed into her car! Yeah, that was a little upsetting, watching his heart break while staring at the tire tracks on the road-"

"Bella, slow down," Michelle urged.

"-But my favourite part of the last week was when Edward looked me in the eye and told me he couldn't stay with me, even as I begged for him to, even when I fell down and just wanted to die already!" Bella broke into sobs, her words slurred between gasping breaths. "I broke his heart, and he broke mine back, and there's nothing to live for now, no hope of things ever being more than purgatory. So why try?"

Michelle rose from her seat, kneeling beside Bella's chair and passing her tissues from her desk. "Bella, what did Edward say to you, exactly?"

"Doesn't matter," Bella wailed, "He didn't stay. He hasn't called. He doesn't want me anymore." Her voice fragmented, tiny cracking soprano notes, and she pulled more tissues from the box, burying her face in them.

"Edward loves you, Bella. He needs time, especially if he's been touched by a death involving intoxication," Michelle said gently. "I don't think you should assume the worst until he tells you, explicitly, that he wants to end your relationship."

"Jacob loved me. He loved me, and he left me," Bella protested. "His face... I disgusted him. God, he just... He couldn't even look at me anymore..."

"Disgusted who?"

"Edward!" Bella shuddered, pulling viciously at her hair. "He was so... But what did I expect? I hate me, so why wouldn't he?"

Michelle shook her head, "Bella, you hate yourself because you are filled with so much guilt, it's toxic. But you can't be held responsible for the weight of the world. Did you directly and intentionally cause someone physical harm?"

Bella groaned, "Just because I didn't shove her over the cliff doesn't mean I'm not responsible for Rachel! I'm the idiot that dragged her up there! You just have to placate me with this shit because you're paid to make me feel better. Edward... He knew me, wanted me without anyone telling him to, and he ran. He left. And what's the point of getting better, when I can't make Rachel come back, or make everyone stop hating me, or have Edward with me... or anything beautiful? Why live in misery? What's the goddamn point?"

Michelle calmly and firmly responded, her hand on Bella's arm, "You have to get better for you. You have to live life for yourself, and the rest follows later. Bella, would you please answer me honestly: have you thought of harming yourself?"

"Ha," Bella huffed, "I already did that. It's all I think about."

"Where did you hurt yourself?" Michelle asked gently.

"Oh, I'll show you, if you're so curious!"

Bella responded flippantly, no longer consumed with appearances. She's the doctor for the crazy, right? Might as well show her some crazy. Unzipping her grey hoodie, she lifted her white t-shirt, revealing a three-inch jagged slash, secured by butterfly stitches. The wound was still gleaming red, fresh from the night before. It had bled for several soothing minutes before she'd quickly tidied up, knowing Alice would soon come snooping. Michelle winced, examining the wound with a furrowed brow.

"You should let a doctor take a look at that," she commented.

Bella snorted, tugging down her shirt, "Oh, sure. I'll just call Edward's dad up. That'll be swell!"

"That's a very angry wound, full of sadness and rage."

"It's just a cut," Bella insisted. "Anger would be slashing my throat, or something far more dramatic. I'm just a drama queen, after all; the audience wants a show."

Michelle tilted her head, "Have you been thinking of suicide, Bella?"

"Not your business," Bella muttered.

Michelle shook her head, "Bella, it is my business to help you through painful times, help you keep safe while we work towards healing you. You signed an agreement at the start of our working relationship that indicated you understood I would have to act to protect you from harm. I believe you are in danger of causing serious harm to yourself right now, Bella. And I don't blame you for feeling so horrible, in light of all that's happened. I can arrange a safe place for you to rest for a few days-"

"Wait, what?" Bella rose, her body trembling in fear. "No way, Michelle. You can't lock me up!"

"Bella, we have options we can discuss-"

"You can't cage me like an animal!" Bella screamed. "Fuck you! No way!"

She threw herself into the waiting room, running for the door as Michelle called her name, scrambling to follow her. Darting out to the left, the glowing red Exit sign beckoned her, and she ran, propelling herself down the five flights two steps at a time, her heart pounding. No way, no way, no one's locking me up. They won't let me out. They won't ever let me leave! It'll be Girl, Interrupted, only Girl, Forgotten. No. Fucking. Way! There were no sounds of pursuit above; Michelle had either taken the elevator or gone for the phone, probably to call her father. Ronan better be back. I need to get out of here. I need to hide.

Bella slammed into the crashbar, the autumn sun blinding as she stumbled into the side parking lot. Her red truck loomed twenty feet away, the cab empty. She ran towards it, nearly ripping the handle off in her haste to crawl into the driver's side. With a laugh, her hand reached down and turned the keys. He literally just went upstairs. Timing! The engine sputtered briefly and roared to life, the familiar idiosyncrasies of her baby a relief. I'll just wait here for Ronan, and we can go back to Forks, play a little music, maybe get high. As soon as he gets back down-

Bella froze. If Ronan saw Michelle, she would tell him about her plans to fly Bella over the cuckoo's nest. He would probably listen to her, too. He would help Michelle lock her in some hell hole! Shaking her head violently, Bella checked her mirrors and threw the truck into gear.

"Sorry, Mick. But there's no way I can be locked up alone. Not now. Not ever."

Bella floored it, pulling the vehicle onto the road and quickly switching lanes for the Forks interchange. With a little luck, she'd manage to reach home before Charlie did, and could gather a few things to hold her over, or... whatever. Her bank account had a decent pocket of cash, her credit card clear. It would buy her time to decide what to do next.


Edward was pretty sure his nose was broken.

He was also fairly certain he didn't care. Not now.

"...She ran out of her so fast; it was too much of a head start," Michelle was explaining, her eyes wide with panic. "You literally just missed her."

Ronan pushed past Michelle into her office, storming towards the window. He growled and kicked the wall in frustration, his hand plunging into his jeans pocket.

"She's taken the truck! Fuck!"

Moments before, he and Ronan were on the elevator, the plan being for Ronan to wait in the reception area and prepare Bella for Edward. Instead, the door had opened and Michelle had slammed into Ronan, driving his elbow straight into Edward's face, knocking him against the rear wall. Clutching his nose, he'd begun to curse violently, only to fall silent at the look of terror on the face of Bella's therapist.

The words ebbed and flowed through the haze of scotch and agonizing pain, but he could pick out enough to know that Michelle considered Bella a suicide risk. There was talk of a hospital. She needed one, Michelle was insisting.

But first, they had to find her.

"...Voicemail. Not shocking... Bella, it's Ronan. Where'd you go? You've stranded me here. Come back and get me; I have important information about Edward-" At this, he locked eyes with Edward, urging him not to speak. "Bella, call me now. Love you."

"We should head for Forks," Edward said quietly, his heart sinking. No, Bella wouldn't... She'd told him in the meadow, after Jessica left, that she didn't want to hurt Charlie like that. Bella was a fighter. She was just really upset.

Ronan's worried expression wasn't helping at all in his mission to talk himself out of panic.

"She's not going to talk to me," Ronan sighed. "She knows I've talked to you, Michelle."

"Which means she's aware that I would be calling her father," Michelle concluded, worried.

"Forks is out, then," Edward sighed. "She'll look to hide. She's scared. Where would she go, Ronan?"

"Angela, maybe?" Ronan guessed. "Emily's too close to me, and Alice would call Charlie, right?"

Edward rose to his feet, willing himself to remain steady on his feet. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Um, we don't have a vehicle, Cullen, remember? Bella jacked it?" Ronan snapped.

"My appointments are done for the day," Michelle said, "I can drive you somewhere, if you need me to."

"Thank you!" Edward exclaimed in relief. "My place is closer, Ronan; we can go get my Volvo."

"Yeah, alright. But I'm driving," Ronan replied, staring pointedly.

"As if you had to fucking say so," Edward muttered.

The two men followed behind the gentle-faced woman with the nervous hands clutching her purse and keys, neither of them willing to speak aloud of their worst fears. Edward didn't need Ronan to say it aloud; it would only make it more real, more possible. If Michelle genuinely believed Bella needed to be hospitalized, she had said something dire enough that her life was hanging in the balance. As the elevator door slowly closed, Edward felt his breath catch in his throat. We don't have much time.

It was in his veins, this innate pull that warned of a storm on the horizon. And this time, he wasn't sure Bella would survive.


The drive normally took two hours, but Bella had managed it in seventy minutes, the roads fairly clear and her foot a dead weight on the gas pedal. The stereo was blaring loudly to drown out her frantic thoughts of white straps and electroshock machines, Bella feeding and ejecting CDs from her case every ten minutes or so. Her mind was racing, unable to focus on much beyond her purpose, her mission.

This was long overdue.

The mix in the player flipped tracks to Johnny Cash and Bella immediately jammed on the eject button. Edward loves Johnny, she thought sadly, tossing the disc to the passenger floorboard. Her right hand fumbled through the wallet, her eyes watching for her turn-off, due in about three miles, if she remembered properly. It had been so long since she'd taken this route, the directions were hazy at best. She was relying on body memory to carry her the rest of the way.

Charlie would only check the local interchanges, she knew. At least, initially. This was the only safe course.

A lone CD tucked in the back of the wallet caught her interest and she pulled it out, bringing it to her field of vision to examine the label. She gasped and drifted halfway into the next lane briefly before correcting herself, ignoring the honk of a Ford pick-up 100 metres behind her.

The label read, simply, Rachel.

Bella remembered the CD, and also why it was tucked in the back of the wallet, presumably not to be noticed again. It was a mix she'd made the day of her funeral, songs to accompany her private grief in the backyard, since she'd been barred from La Push's memorial. They were all songs Rachel had loved, but also songs of farewells. They were songs she would have liked to sing to Rachel, sad lullabies to her lost friend. So Bella had stolen a bottle of wine from Charlie's cabinet, picking the lock, and had drank and sang for Rachel. A private Irish wake for a young Quileute, gone too soon.

Life had a sense of irony, Bella noted, as she inserted the disc into the player and, once more, sang to Rachel's ghost.

"Fed up with my destiny and this place of no return
Think I'll take another day and slowly watch it burn
Doesn't really matter how the time goes by
'Cause I still remember you and I, and that beautiful goodbye

Staggered through these empty streets, laughing arm in arm
The night had made a mess of me; your confessions kept me warm
And I don't really miss you
I just need to know: do you ever think of you and I
and that beautiful goodbye?
"

Bella's fingers drummed the wheel as she veered right, the exit depositing it her on the coastal road leading southwest. Her voice was hoarse and broken, like her hollowed heart, but she continued to sing, her eyes avoiding the cliffs to her right.

"When I see you now, I wonder how I could have watched you walk away
If I let you down, please, forgive me now
For that beautiful goodbye...
"

The song changed form, a mourning of more than one woman, more than the Bella that her father had always wished she would be. She mourned Edward as well, mourned the loss of the one person who had completed her. She had loved Jacob, loved him deeply, but she had never been in love with him. It didn't make his rejection any less agonizing, nor did it make life without him any easier to know this truth. What it did do was make Edward's absence an exquisite torture even during their time together.

"In these days of no regrets, I keep mine to myself
And all the things we never said, I can say for someone else
And nothing lasts forever, but we always try
And I just can't help but wonder why we let it pass us by...
"

The house came into view ahead, the wooden porch as much in need of repair as she remembered it. A dusty black pick-up was parked outside on an angle, the porch door pulling against its weak hinge in the wind that was beginning to accelerate, gently nudging her truck to the left as she pulled in behind her vehicle's twin.

Twins. At one time, they were like twins, their minds forming the same ridiculous jokes or hatching similar schemes. Now, they were worlds apart.

But he had to know. No one had given her a chance before, not even him. She would make him hear her, this time. This was her last confession. There was no sense in holding back anymore.

A tall figure peered through the door as she cut the engine, the face cloaked in shadows. She didn't need to see it to know who would answer the door. Drawing a ragged breath, she stepped out onto the gravel, pebbles scurrying as she dragged her feet. A funeral march. She paused at the foot of the stairs, forcing herself to meet the piercing gaze through the glass, her knees threatening to buckle as she swallowed hard, then forced herself to speak.

"Hello, Jake."


A while back, I warned a reader that things were slowly building to a hell of a ride... and well, chapter 26 was only the beginning.

For those who remember the lost moment I offered up for reviews way back, I promised I'd eventually make it fully accessible. It's now available and I would really, really appreciate it if you not only read it, but rate/review as well. :) Flip to my profile, if you weren't subscribed to author alerts as well as story alerts.

Speaking of outtakes, here's the deal: if between FF and Twilighted, this chapter gets 50 reviews, I will post an alternate version of the opening of this chapter, with Alice instead of Ronan showing up. If I get 80 reviews, I will post a version with Jasper at the door.

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