36

Edward had never felt more helpless. Nearly four days had passed since Bella started her treatment, and she wasn't doing well. Nights seemed to be the hardest for her; that's when she'd curled herself around the toilet, tears streaming down her face while she clutched her stomach, and nearly clawed at her skin. Her face would twist in agony, tears would slide down her face, and her mouth would open, yet her screams and pleas for help were silent. And all while she suffered, Edward found himself sitting on the sidelines and watching while Alice, Carlisle, or Esme helped his wife, soothed his wife, nurtured his wife, and all because he was too weak to hold her, too fucked up to be the man she needed when she needed him. More than ever, Edward hated his damaged heart.

As if the chemotherapy wasn't hard enough on her, her daily radiation treatments had her barely able to swallow. Her throat was red and raw. Phil had inserted a feeding tube into her stomach so that she could get some nutrients, but the chemo made it difficult to keep any of it down. When Edward questioned Phil about the aggressive course of treatment, the doctor explained that he was trying to rid her body of any lingering cancer cells, which would make the placement of the implant that much easier. But Edward didn't care about the implant, not anymore. While he still longed to hear her say his name, he wanted her to stop suffering more. Edward felt helpless and lost, and he could only imagine how much harder it was on Bella. She was in hell, and he couldn't do anything to make it better.

"Hey." At the sound of Esme's voice, Edward looked to the bottom of the staircase, finding her standing there wearing a pair of Carlisle's scrub bottoms and one of his T-shirts. She'd stayed over every night, always saying that she was there for Bella, in case Bella needed her. Edward knew that was one of the reason why Esme had all but moved in, but in reality, she was in love with Carlisle, and he with her. "She okay?"

Edward shifted his eyes down to his wife. Bella was laying with her head on his lap. They'd been up for hours because she'd been unable to sleep. Instead, she paced the length of the living room and every once in a while she'd stop and bring her hand to her throat, a look of misery covered her face and then it would be gone and she'd pull on a mask, pretending that she wasn't suffering. She'd only just settled on the couch and laid her head on his lap, drifting off to sleep a few minutes ago.

"No," he answered honestly. There wasn't any point in lying; Bella wasn't okay, and she wouldn't be until the cancer was gone, and even then, she may never be okay, not really. Like him, she would spend the rest of her life waiting for the next time death tried to take her. One day, when they weren't ready for it, death would snatch her away from him, or him away from Bella, and the one left would be lost to grieve in a sea of despair.

"If you want to lay down, I can sit with her for a while," Esme offered, walking over to them and kneeling in front of Bella. "You look exhausted."

She lifted her hand to push Bella's hair out of her face, but stopped when Edward said, "Don't touch her." Esme looked up at him with a frown. "She just fell asleep. She needs rest and if you wake her up, she won't be able to go back to sleep for a while, so, just don't touch her."

Esme nodded and moved to the other sofa, settling on the edge. "Are you okay, Edward?"

Once again, he heard himself saying, "No." Brining a hand up to his mouth, he tried to keep from crying. He didn't want to Esme to see him getting emotional, not when he was supposed to be strong and brave, not when he was supposed to be taking care of his wife, but he wasn't. His chest hurt, and he got winded easily, he could barely handle lying in bed because the pressure of his incision was excruciating. He was pathetic, a loser for not being able to make her life better.

"You're doing the best you can," Esme replied, and Edward felt his eyes widened. "You didn't think you said that out loud, did you?"

Edward shook his head.

"I didn't think so," she laughed, softly before turning serious. "I know this is hard on you, Edward, but just being here to hold her like this, to tell her that you love her is so important."

Tears filled his eyes as he once again shook his head. "She's my wife. I'm supposed to be the one holding her hair back, rubbing her back, telling her it's okay."

"But you can't," she said. "You're not strong enough yet. By letting us help, letting yourself get stronger, you'll be here when it gets really hard."

"That's bullshit," he spat, his hand flying up to his chest. He could feel his scar under his shift, mocking him, teasing him, taunting him about how useless he was. Curling his hand into a fist, Edward slammed it down against the arm of the couch.

The quick action, however, woke Bella, whose face contorted into misery as she pushed herself off the couch and rushed into the bathroom. Esme threw him a look before she followed. Edward, feeling even more helpless than before, pushed himself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen. He threw open the door to the fridge, slinging the eggs, bacon, and milk onto the counter without care. Then, leaving the door open, he dragged two pans out from under the cabinet and slammed them onto the stove. He'd just opened the carton of eggs when Carlisle came rushing into the kitchen, his eyes shifting from Edward to the food on the counter and back to him.

"Edward, you shouldn't be cooking," he said, walking over and grabbing Edward's arm.

However, he pushed Carlisle off of him. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Edward!" Carlisle exclaimed with a gasp. "Stop."

"No," he snarled, grabbing an egg and smashing it into the pan. "I don't want to stop. I need to do something, something other than just sit there doing nothing and being utterly worthless. I need . . . I need . . ." Edward slumped forward before sliding to his knees.

"Oh, my God, Edward!" Carlisle yelled, rushing over to him. His arm was around him in an effort to hold him up. However, Edward pushed him off of him, turning so that he was sitting on the floor and leaning against the stove with his knees pulled up in front of him. "Talk to me."

"It's not fair," he whispered.

"What's not?"

Edward's eyes closed as his tears fell. "Everything," he croaked. "She needs me, Car. She fucking needs me, and I can't be there for her."

"You are there," he insisted.

But Edward shook his head. "Not like you are. Or Pix or Esme. I'm supposed to be holding her. I'm supposed to be making her feel better, but I can't because it hurts too much. Why me? Why her? Hadn't we suffered enough?"

But before Carlisle could say anything, the sound of someone slamming their hand on the wall echoed through the room and both men turned and found Bella standing in the doorway with Esme's arm wrapped around her. The look of anguish on her face had Edward slinking away. Here she was suffering through hell, and he was whining like a toddler who had been told he couldn't have a cookie. He was selfish, truly self-absorbed. Bella slid to her knees and crawled over to Edward. Carlisle moved, letting her in, letting her wrap her body around Edward.

"I love you," Edward cried, holding her as tight as he could. "I love you so much. Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me!"

As they sat on the kitchen floor, both of them letting their tears fall, Edward wished more than anything that he could be normal instead of a boy with a broken heart.

—SW—

Edward sat on the porch swing with Bella curled up around him. Once again she'd fallen asleep against him after a long, torturous afternoon. Though it was cold and dreary, Bella hadn't wanted to stay cooped up in the house any longer. She'd grabbed Edward's hand, a blanket, and motioned for the porch. And when Esme tried to argue that she didn't need to go out there, Bella dropped the blanket and released her hold on Edward's hands, her fingers flying in front of her. He didn't know what she said, just that Esme looked from her to him and nodded, telling them to stay warm. And he was doing his best to keep her warm, to keep her protected from the cold.

His meltdown in the kitchen had been humiliating. He hated that he'd let his guard down, that Bella had seem him like that, that Esme and Carlisle had seen him like that. He'd always been the sick one, the one that wasn't strong enough to be a part of the family. When were things going to change?

Edward was pulled out from inside his own head when a car pulled up in front of the house. Pulling the blanket up tighter around Bella's shoulders, he watched as Emmett, Jasper, and Alice climbed out and slowly walked up the front path. All three of them shifted their eyes to Bella and Edward, though Alice simply gave Edward a look before she walked into the house. She'd struggled so much with Bella's needs, the level of care that she required. It wasn't that Alice didn't want to help, but more that she was scared of doing something wrong and making things worse.

"How's she doing?" Emmett asked, while Jasper followed Alice into the house.

Edward shrugged his shoulders. "The same."

Emmett nodded and leaned against one of the pillars. "Have to admit, I wasn't prepared for this."

Shifting his eyes to him, Edward simply cocked an eyebrow in silent question.

Emmett shook his head. "After the fire, when they found the first tumor, she only went through radiation, not chemo. Her throat hurt like a bitch and she had a feeding tube then, too. She slept a lot, but shew wasn't sick like this. I wasn't prepared to see her so . . . fragile."

"She's not," Edward whispered.

"She's not what?" Emmett asked.

"Fragile. She's not. She's amazing and strong and brave and . . ." He paused, feeling his lips tremble. "None of you see her like I do. You see your baby sister. The girl who probably followed you around, the one who clung onto you when a fire ripped your worlds apart." A tear slipped from Edward's eye, but he didn't bother trying to wipe it away. "But I see a woman, a beautiful woman. She's . . . I . . ." He blew out a shaky breath. "I love her. I'm so in love with her. I sit here and I watch her struggling to get from one hour to the next, I hold her and pray that, by some miracle, God will spare her, that he'll give us something — anything — other than this," he whimpered. "I want . . . I want a future with her so much that I'm praying to a God that I'm not sure exists. What kind of God would do this to us? Our parents, our health, what more does he want? Haven't we suffered enough?"

"More than enough," Emmett murmured, and when Edward shifted his eyes to him, he saw the tears pooling in his eyes.

But before he could say anything, Bella twisted in his arms, falling onto the porch before scrambling to her feet and pushing her way past Emmett and into the house. Both of them followed, but as usual Emmett was quicker and by the time Edward got to the door of the bathroom, Emmett was already holding her hair out of her face and had a wash cloth on the back of her neck.

However, Bella reached back and pushed him away from her, and when she shifted her eyes to the door and saw Edward standing there, she stretched her hand out to him. Tears flooded his eyes as he walked over to her, carefully kneeling on the floor and wrapping his fingers around hers.

"I'm here," he whispered.

Emmett placed his hand on Edward's shoulder before he walked out, leaving the two of them sitting there. Reaching over for the wash cloth, he placed it on the back of her neck. Bella's grip on his hand tightened and she pulled his arm around her, placing their hands between her breasts. Though it was uncomfortable, Edward shifted so that he was curled around her, holding her and doing what he could to make her feel better.