Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns it. I'm just playing.

Author's Note: To deenerneener, it is for people like you that this story is written.

The Fall

Every shift in the green plastic chair caused a squeak, a small groan against metal legs, a quiet scraping against the floor. So I tried to sit absolutely still, my hands twisting and holding tight around the edges as I fixed my eyes on Alice's back, watching her talk to the woman at the desk. I was too far away to hear what she was saying. Every time I heard the automatic doors slide open, every person who walked into the room, I felt my heart stutter beat in my chest: hoping it wasn't him.

Sweat rolled down my back, beneath the cotton of my sleeveless shirt, even out of the beating heavy hard of the sun. My hair was hot against my shoulders, warming the already steady burn that told me tomorrow white skin would flame up red. Looking down at my arms I couldn't see the change yet, I was simply flushed and covered in a thick layer of dirt; dust and grass dry from the heat and turned to mud with the moisture from my pores.

I couldn't remember a day ever being so hot.

Even in the air conditioned room, I still felt the heat.

Even though my limbs were trembling and sore – even though I could still feel the clump of sticky, matted blood on the back of my head – even though my eyes were darting relentlessly around the room for any sign of him – I could still feel the heat.

Flushing my face and bringing my blood to a boil.

"Are you alright, Bella?" I heard Alice's voice beside me.

When I turned to her, she was sitting in the chair next to me, her hand reaching out gently to touch the back of my head, obviously concerned.

She had asked me the exact same question barely an hour before.

Except an hour before, I hadn't turned to her.

My eyes had remained fixed ahead of me as I nodded, never straying from the two pinprick red ears four feet away from the reach of my hand.

Slowly, so slowly, my gaze trailed downward from ears to shoulder, chestnut mane parted long and straight to the right side of a powerful neck, tense and unmoving. Beneath my legs I felt the quiver of waiting muscle, twitching away the bother of a fly from angled wither. My own legs had tensed slightly in response before I immediately forced them to relax, ignoring all instinct to grip, demanding from my body that it remain passive; calm.

I couldn't startle him.

I could hear the heat in the air, the buzzing hum trembling across the grass field around me.

"I'm fine," I told her, shaking my head slightly.

I was back with her, out of the heat and in the hospital waiting room.

"Come on," Alice said softly, reaching down to tug lightly at my arm, indicating I should stand with her. "They've got bed for you now."

I got to my feet with some effort, my legs only protesting slightly. My right shoulder, side, hip ached; I could practically feel the bruises forming purple and raw, violent under my skin. My head continued to throb and I concentrated on not thinking about the blood. It was dry now, no longer fresh tang salt in the air and bombarding my senses as it stained my fingers. Alice's arm cradled under my elbow as I stepped forward.

A nurse with red blonde hair smiled at me kindly, motioning for us to follow.

Our pace was slow and steady, jerking and so uncoordinated compared with the smooth revelation of movement I had felt this afternoon.

When I had ridden Santana.

My heart clenched slightly at the thought, at the memory.

I knew that the fundamentals were the same as any other horse. I knew that Dollar's stride was just as long: smooth and swinging steady four beats beneath me. I knew that Dash's shoulders were just as broad: bunching and sweeping of muscle brushing against my knee and calf with every push forward. I knew that on any horse I would feel that same coiling power, that same energy begging to burst forward under my legs, carrying me into wind and open.

I had known it shouldn't feel any different; it was still to have felt that bursting happiness, aching of discovery and wonder.

I had felt it anyway.

Santana had a mind I knew, he had emotions that I could read. There was a trust and relationship there that made him more than just a body under me, an animal that I was controlling. I would shift one leg against his side, I would release with the other, and he would turn in his response, listening to my signals because he understood and because he wanted to.

There was communication, simple and unmarred.

Perfectly perfect and choking on my own smile.

Alice, riding her own lovely grey Jesse, had turned back to me once.

The expression she saw on my face had made her laugh.

She wasn't laughing now, strangely silent at my side as she lead my battered body to the other side of the quiet ER, where the nurse motioned me onto a bed and drew the curtains around us for privacy.

"I'm going to take your vitals down now, alright Mrs. Cullen?" She didn't seem to notice my subtle jolt of surprise at the way she had addressed me. Her smile was sympathetic, patient. When I offered no protest, her hand was on my arm, wrapping the blue Velcro cuff around my bicep with soft caressing fingers.

I knew that Alice must have told them my name at the desk, an easy way to get me seen quicker.

Nothing more.

"Please, call me Bella," I told her quietly, reflexively as I watched her. Thinking of how gentle she was being and how her voice had sounded when she had called me Mrs. Cullen. How it most likely wouldn't be my name for much longer.

She nodded and smiled a little wider. "My name is Tanya."

My eyes flicked up to hers immediately, then over to Alice who was standing quietly at my side. Alice's gaze was trained on me, unwavering and completely unreadable. I wondered why she was so quiet, what she was waiting for.

I turned back to the nurse reading my blood pressure quietly.

"Tanya Denali?" I asked, a slight tremor in my voice as her name came back to me, echoing in the far reaches of my mind.

It seemed like forever ago, a different world, as I remembered the way Emmett had said her name with awe; almost reverence.

I couldn't believe it when he told me he'd turned her down.

Tanya was looking at me suddenly, her entire face lighting up slightly when I said her name. "That's right," she said with a grin, obviously pleased I had heard of her, that I knew who she was. That she was worth mentioning. "It's so nice to finally meet you". She paused, then chuckled a bit when she added, "Although, it's not really under the most ideal circumstances."

I swallowed slightly and forced a smile on my features. "It's nice to meet you, too," was all I could manage.

She bobbed her head slightly and picked up a chart on the table near the bed, jotting down numbers and notes, filling in my vitals and taking my history. Alice excused herself to give me some privacy, telling me that she was going to call Jasper to let him know where we were, what had happened. I nodded, wishing she wouldn't leave me alone, but not understanding her silence, either.

Alone with Tanya, I answered all the questions she asked me concisely, without thought. As I spoke, I allowed myself a moment to examine her thoroughly, without Alice's strange watchfulness hovering close to me.

My heart was racing inside my chest.

She was tall and slender, with a quiet smile that never seemed to leave her lips. Her eyes were gentle blue and her skin was fair, every mannerism suggesting that of a natural caregiver. She seemed almost shy when she asked me more personal questions, rushing through them and blushing attractively, her embarrassment far more becoming to her features than my red ruddy cheeks. I couldn't help looking at her with awe.

She was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

She wasn't the type of girl who had grown into it, who had to work hard to achieve grace and poise. She had always been that way, I was sure. Perhaps unaware of it when she was younger, now older and undoubtedly aware but seemingly unconcerned. There was nothing vicious or pretentious about her manner. She was quiet and kind and lovely. She came to work every day and helped the sick, eased their pain, gave them a better life.

And at one point in her life, she had chosen Edward; she had wanted him.

And he had married me.

Even without the clenching in my chest or the despair squeezing at my heart, I couldn't understand it.

Not at all.

"So, Bella," Tanya said, breaking me out of my thoughts, landing my eyes back on hers. "How exactly did this happen, this head injury?" Her fingers were lightly tracing along the cut on the back of my head. Clean, porcelain fingers tangling up in greasy, matted hair. "Alice said you fell of a horse?"

"That's right," I nodded, my eyes falling to my lap. My hands clasped together tightly, resting on my filthy jeans as I recounted earlier in the day.

I told her how Alice had led me around the edge of the properties on horseback, to field and land that I was unfamiliar with but growing to love.

We had passed the stream Edward had taken me to, trotting between rocks. I let go of the rope reins and held on to mane there, letting Santana pick his own way through the rough obstacles. His feet danced and skirted, never touching one.

We cantered up the hill to the ranch house, Santana's lope slow and easy on the incline, my hands resting gently on his withers, feeling his hindquarters behind me, churning like an engine.

We walked past the ranch house, Alice laughing once more as I reached down and stroked slowly at the sweat-soaked fur of Santana's neck, the hair deep brown sheen in sharp contrast with the bright red of the rest of him. His sweat coated the backs of my thighs, his hair sticking wet to my jeans, but I didn't mind.

I was all comfortable easy, my seat sinking and relaxed against the bare of Santana's back when it had happened.

I told Tanya how I had been behind Alice on the walk back to the barn, breathing deep with wonder and exhilaration, when there was a sudden flurry of activity.

I felt Santana's steps halt, his entire body tensing and rigid beneath mine as a flock of crows burst to flight from just behind the house, taking to the air from their perch on the blackened, dead tree.

Edward's tree.

Their loud calls and beating heavy wings had me gripping at Santana in surprise, his immediate stillness shifting abruptly into motion, responding flawless to my panic.

"I've heard that some horses startle easily," Tanya said with an understanding nod, her hand coming to rest lightly, reassuring on my shoulder. She was smiling at me, her face a little sad. She moved her hand from my shoulder, down to rest on the bed by my thigh, as if she had suddenly realized that perhaps she shouldn't have touched me.

I didn't really mind.

Her expression reminded me of Alice's; looking up at her after I had fallen, her worried face above me, framed by bright blue sky.

"Bella? Oh, Bella, are you alright?" she had demanded, scared but firm, commanding me to answer her.

I blinked once, twice, and struggled to sit up. Alice's hand was behind my back and around my arm in an instant, helping me.

"Where's Santana?" I asked, the first words out my mouth pure instinct.

Alice chuckled and shook her head, obviously relieved. She jerked her head to the left. I followed the movement where a little ways off Santana and Jesse stood, watching the pair of us on the ground. I could see the question in Santana's gaze, his large red head ducked slightly: an apology.

"Oh, shit, Bella. You're bleeding."

Alice's hand had moved to the back of my head - her fingers moving gently over my sore scalp - and when she brought it around in front of my eyes I could see the red stain, bright and vivid on her palm.

I inhaled sharply, feeling suddenly dizzy. I brought my own hand shakily to my hair, feeling the warm damp and sticky clumps. I could smell the rusty salt of my blood and I dipped back slightly as the nausea swept upon me suddenly and without warning.

Do not pass out.

I forced breath into my lungs slowly and deliberately. I forced myself to feel the grass beneath me and every ache of my body. I forced my eyes to remain open, mind alert.

Alice was talking to me and - so busy concentrating on inhaling and exhaling, calmly and consciously - I hadn't heard her.

"What?"

"I said, do you remember hitting the ground?" Alice's eyes darted over what I was sure was now my very pale face.

I remembered the feeling of sliding without control, the resignation of losing my balance and the realization I could do nothing to stop it.

I remembered falling.

I remembered Alice over me.

"No," I told her honestly, through gritted teeth and sharp breathing.

Alice nodded quietly, as if she had expected it.

She tugged at my arm gently. "Come on, up you get. We have to get you to the hospital."

"Alice was right to bring you in, you know," Tanya remarked with a firm nod. "If you lose consciousness at all, even for a second, it generally means you have a concussion. It's smart to get checked out, even if you think you're fine."

I nodded quietly.

Alice had told me the same thing when I had resisted, flaunting her medical knowledge and startling me with her concern. I had had no choice but to crawl into her yellow Jeep, head pounding and stuffy hot air surrounding me as she put the horses back in their field, no matter how afraid I was.

Not of hospitals or blood or possible brain injuries.

All I could think about was Edward.

I could see so clearly in my mind the tight expression on his face, his fear and concern whenever he mentioned my riding. Worry and doubt. Telling me that it wasn't a good idea to ride Santana, that he was too dangerous, too unpredictable.

And he had been right in thinking that I couldn't handle that horse; couldn't ride him; wasn't good enough.

It killed me that he had been right.

As if she knew exactly where my thoughts had lead me, Tanya asked me suddenly, "So how did Edward react to you little misadventure?" She chuckled lightly and motioned to the room around us. "I'm surprised he's not here, barking orders and scowling."

Tanya's cheery, casual mention of Edward caused my face to pale slightly, imagining what it would be like, what I would feel, if he did actually walk through those sliding doors and see me.

"I…" I swallowed and glanced around at nothing. "Alice said he was at the clinic."

"I believe he is," Tanya said with a shrug. "He's not in the hospital today."

I released a small breath, a sigh of relief escaping my lips without my permission. Tanya looked at me curiously, her expression shifting slightly, wondering.

"Are you…you didn't call him?" she asked me, obviously confused.

I felt my entire face flush bright red, unsure of what to tell her. Unsure of what I could say that wouldn't arouse her suspicion. Unsure of what I could say that would be the truth. Because I wasn't quite sure myself. When Alice had offered to call him from the car, when she had begun to drive me to the clinic where she knew he was, it had only been my instinctive reply that had stopped her.

I wasn't sure where the instinct came from.

"I haven't really…I…" I stuttered, helpless beneath Tanya's questioning gaze.

"Here," she said, cutting me off and moving away from me to pull the curtain back. "I can run and page him real quick."

"No," I said quickly, forcefully. My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist; yet another reflex. My fingers went all the way around her dainty bones, the tips of my thumb and middle finger touching as they wrapped around soft skin. Tanya stopped immediately, turning to look at me with eyes wide at my reaction. I quieted my voice as I implored, "Please, I don't want to bother him with something like this."

"Why not?" Tanya asked, moving back towards me and pulling up a chair beside the bed. She didn't sit in it.

I released my hold on her instantly.

I could see her waiting for my answer, waiting for me to tell her something that would make sense. The reason I wouldn't want my husband to see me like this, in a hospital, battered and needing. Her eyes were so blue and soft, her face showing nothing but polite concern.

Still, I couldn't tell her.

I couldn't tell her because she would never understand why I couldn't face Edward, couldn't look at him, knowing that I had failed Santana. I wasn't sure when exactly they had become linked in my mind, but the transition was so inevitable, so clear and so simple that it couldn't be denied.

I hadn't ready to ride him.

And I had been so sure that I was.

But I didn't just lose my balance and fall off. Santana had wanted me off, had forced me off.

I could see it all so clearly now, as if it had happened in slow motion – burrowed into my brain: he had barely even moved. The birds flew up and all he did was tense, just a little, just for a moment. But I? I was braced for it, waiting for the fall, waiting for him to drop me to the ground. What choice did he have, when I practically dared him to? When I had told him, clear as day, in the only language he knew, that it was the only thing I expected of him.

That horse trusted me. He trusted me and I thought I had earned it, I thought I had done everything I could – everything I should – to be worthy of it. Of him. But I had been wrong. The only thing I had really needed to do to be worthy of it was the one thing I hadn't done: trust him in return.

All this time I had felt like if I could get an animal like that – so pure and unbiased and intelligent and understanding – if I could get him to trust me, to love me, then it would mean that there was something in me worth loving.

And now, bruised and bloodied, I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Bella," Tanya said quietly, breaking my silence with her voice like music. "I've known Edward for a long time. Since we were kids. I saw him almost every day from nursery to high school..." She trailed off, but it was clear what she was implying.

She said it like it meant something.

It made me angry that it did.

"And I'm married to him," I snapped, my eyes flicking up to meet hers in a challenge. Unwilling to let her tell me what to do, not wanting to listen to her talk about things that she could never understand. She didn't know me and she didn't know Edward anymore.

Not after I got through with him.

Tanya's eyes widened and another attractive flush spread over cream white cheekbones. "Of course," she murmured, embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" I trailed off, bile rising in my throat, wishing I could take back those words. Take back everything they didn't mean.

Tanya had known him, had cared about him, had been kind to him.

As a child she had wanted him even though she couldn't have him.

For all I knew, she could have felt about him that way I felt about Jacob.

Which would make me…

I wanted to fling her out of my sight and climb under the covers of this hospital bed. I wanted Alice to say something rather than perch behind me like a specter, pale and listening, or running off to talk to Jasper. I wanted to not have to think about these things, not have to understand every single life I had affected and ruined. I wanted to not know the truth about any of this.

I wanted a distraction.

"What was he like?" I asked Tanya suddenly, keeping my words kind and inquisitive.

Inviting her back from her subtle dejection.

She looked up at me shyly, her head cocked in question. "Like?"

"When you knew him; when he was younger," I elaborated. "Was he very different?"

Tanya was silent for a moment, considering me or the question. I wasn't sure which.

"In a lot of ways he's exactly the same," she replied slowly, thoughtfully. Her eyes grew distant as she remembered. "When he came to the hospital to start work I felt like time had gone backwards. He's still so kind, so polite, so smart. Handsome." She smiled a little at the last word. Then her brows were furrowed and she was no longer smiling. She was puzzling. She added hesitantly, "But he's different, too."

"How?" I breathed the question, unable to raise my voice any louder than a whisper.

I wondered what she would say.

That he was bitter now? Angry?

That he had become cold towards her? Or warm?

That he was sad all the time? That he was happy all the time, here in the hospital and away from the rest of his world?

That he was miserable in his marriage?

Or maybe that he looked like a man who wanted to divorce his wife.

"He's lived a lot of life," she said simply.

I stared back at her, at this kind woman who was taking care of me and speaking gently of my husband and wondering and courteous. I saw the way she knew things, even when she didn't know them. She knew nothing of the details, nothing of what he had been through, but she could still see it, somehow. She saw Edward living life. Living life when he married me, when he moved to New York, when his father died.

When I lost our son.

Suddenly, I wished that I could tell this woman what I had done to Edward.

I knew that I couldn't because she was his. Just like the rest of them, she loved him first. She belonged to him, not to me.

Still, I wanted to tell her.

That it was all my fault.

"And then there's you," she said suddenly, with a sigh.

I felt a jolt of shock shoot through my entire body, jerking my limbs slightly and feeling her eyes still soft on my face.

"Me?" My voice trembled under the word.

"When I knew him, Edward never had a girl. Never showed any interest," she explained, her lips curling up into an inexplicable smile. "Gosh, none of us thought he would ever get married. He always just seemed the type who would end up married to his career, you know?" She paused then and shook her head, her smile growing a little wider, looking at me almost tenderly. Then, "When he talks about you…"

She trailed off, looking at me with affection that I'd never earned.

I swallowed and repeated the only words I had heard her say. "He talks about me?"

"Not often. He's always been such a private person," she replied, shaking her head as if she was assuring me. "When he does, though, that's when I see the difference; the difference between the boy I knew and the man he is now. That's when I feel like I don't know him at all."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she said lightly, with a shrug and little unsure smile at the intensity of my question. "It's hard to explain. He just…doesn't really talk about you like a man usually talks about his wife."

I wanted to ask her what she meant again, but I wasn't sure that I could.

I wasn't sure that I wanted to hear the answer.

Wasn't sure I could force the words out of my mouth.

Tanya continued in my silence, her face lighting up, cheery again. "I never thought I could bring it up to him, but I really was dying to meet you."

I forced a smile on my face.

It wasn't difficult.

"And now that you have?" I asked her, sounding casual and holding my breath.

"Now that I've met you, Bella," Tanya said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, her eyes earnest on mine. "I think you should call him."

I leaned away from her, my heart suddenly pounding, my throat dry.

Seeing my expression, Tanya smiled sadly.

"He'd want to know you're alright."

The sun was setting quickly, lighting up the sky beautiful yellow and blood red bits. I watched the dark silhouettes of the city fade darker and darker into the rearview mirror as Alice and I drove away from the abstract shapes of the buildings, rising from the earth like angled sharp giants. My elbow rested on the open window of the passenger door, feeling the wind of speed whip around me and sooth the aching heat that had only started to fade from the land, the sun unable to take it fast enough. The air teased and rushed against my singed skin and whipped through my hair mercilessly.

After a couple hours of tests, of talking to Dr. Banner – one of Edward's older and friendly colleagues – I was finally released back into the world, the afternoon giving way to evening in a slow, graceful arc. Alice had been by my side through all of it, leaving me only that once to call Jasper, to tell him what had happened. I didn't need to tell her not to call Edward. I knew she wouldn't.

The entire day, Tanya's words had been rattling around in my head, refusing to leave me in peace.

I could see her eyes imploring and sweet, feel her forming words without knowing what she was saying. I wanted so badly to believe her, to believe any of it, and then we drove past the cabin and I could see Santana standing out in the field, tall and unaffected by the contents of the day. My attempt, and my failure, had meant nothing to him. He was no different for it. Incapable of feeling remorse for hurting me, unable to understand the repercussions of what he had done. Completely and perfectly content. Not angry at me at all. Which made me, in turn, unable to be angry with him.

I felt only sadness when I looked at him.

A terrible and aching kind of anguish as my eyes travelled the looming shape walking in the near-dark, legs bright white even in the diminishing sun.

Tanya's words in my head and Santana's bruises on my body.

All leading back to Edward.

When Alice pulled the Jeep up to the ranch house, I paused rather than getting out. My friend had not spoken to me all day and, as I looked over to her, I saw that she was struggling to speak now. I waited patiently, watching her eyes dart through the invisible words I knew were running through her head.

My hand came to rest on the handle of the door and stayed there, unmoving.

"I want to apologize, Bella," Alice said quietly, at last.

I felt bereft at her words, at her apology, not understanding it and not particularly welcoming it.

"For what?" I demanded of her, my brows furrowing.

Her face looked guiltier than I had ever seen it.

I hadn't thought her capable of the emotion.

"Today was very difficult for you," she said simply, stating what we both knew to be a fact. "And I'm responsible for it."

I couldn't help the small laugh that burst from my mouth unbidden. "How was this your fault in any way, Alice?"

"I let you ride him before you were ready," she said, looking down at her hands. "You could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. I didn't…I should have known better."

I could see her blaming herself, see her mind thinking of Edward's reaction just as I had been all day. She had been relieved when I hadn't called him and had felt guilty the entire day because of that relief. More than that, she had simply been worried about me, her friend that she cared about, loved, and struggling with feelings of blame and responsibility.

I wanted to reach out and comfort her, reassure her.

Instead, my cheeks flushed and I went the other way as I thought of her wishing this day had never happened; that she hadn't let me ride him.

I turned my entire body to face her, my hand releasing the door as I stared directly at her.

Reluctantly, feeling my gaze, she turned her eyes to mine.

I put as much fire and conviction into my stare as I was able to, needing her to understand. "Don't you dare take this from me, Alice."

Alice blinked.

I could see her guilt fade into surprise.

Then into thoughtfulness and gratitude.

Finally, the frown that had remained on her face morphed into a tentative smile, her lips curling and her eyes lighting the tiniest amount.

"It was a great ride," she breathed, nodding her head once.

I smiled back at her.

"Like nothing I've ever felt," I told her honestly. "And if I never feel it again, it will be enough."

She whispered my name quietly and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around me, twisting body in the seat and across the console. I returned her embrace with a small smile, my hand patting at her back soothingly, hoping to convey truth with my body.

It was worth it.

We released each other after a few silent minutes, both grinning now at each other, no longer any tension between us.

Alice offered to stay the night with me.

I told her to go home to Jasper and went inside.

As soon as I walked into the dark of the ranch house, flicking on the lights with a sigh, I didn't know why I had sent her away. I knew that she had wanted to stay with me, just as I knew that I didn't want to be alone. Still, there was something that had kept me from saying yes; some reason that spending the evening in her lively company did not seem right.

I didn't know what it was until I had curled up on the couch in the library, pillow at my back and leather book in hand.

I watched thee when the foe was at our side/Ready to strike at him, or thee and me

My eyes and fingers both traced along the Byron that Edward had written later in the book, under a date that I did not recognize. I knew then, reading each yearning stanza of the poem, own of my favorites, why I had sent Alice away from the ranch house.

He had no way of knowing what had happened today. There was no one who should have been inclined to tell him. He had no cause to think that anything was wrong. No phone call to indicate that he would be coming to the house simply for a visit or a chat. The house was finished being painted, the inside clean and home again. He had a life, a job and mother and sister in the city.

There was no reason for him to come.

None in the world.

Thus much and more, and yet thou lov'st me not/And never wilt, Love dwells not in our will/Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot/To strongly, wrongly, vainly, love thee still.

I was waiting for him.

Without cause or justification, I waited for hours into the evening – the last trace of day fading from the sky beyond the windows, turning the land to black and mystery, disappearing behind the glare of light cast by the lamp near my head.

I waited without knowing that I did until, with a single moment of clarity, I heard the front door slam open.

He was calling my name.

Dropping the book in shock that was more electrical physical than surprise, I lurched to my feet, the pillow toppling behind from the abruptness of my movement, onto the floor. I remembered, for the first time since I had returned to the house, that I hadn't changed my clothes. I hadn't cleaned up. I hadn't showered away the dirt and grime, hadn't brushed the blood from my hair, hadn't washed the shirt and dust-stained pants that had surely now marked the clean couch.

I listened to him marching through the kitchen, loud steps quick and purposeful into the hallway, and I knew the heated flush was rising to my cheeks.

My heart pounding like the beating of a drum.

Suddenly, he was at the door to the library.

He saw me, hesitating only for a moment as wild, flaming eyes licked over my skin.

Then he was moving again, into the room and towards me.

"Bella!" He said my name so loudly, so forcefully. "How could you do this to me?"

I started slightly at his words, not expecting them.

My confusion was immediate and rendered me suddenly and frustratingly helpless.

"W-what?"

"I go to the hospital to finish up some paperwork and all of a sudden I have Dr. Banner telling me that I had just missed you, that you had been in the ER!" He spat at me, his voice loud and hysterical enraged. I could see the worry in his eyes, behind his exasperation, crazed. "Dr. Banner!"

He was in my face, his breath across my skin and his words and tone lashing wounds into my head. His body was inches from mine, hum and spark nearly demanding that I reach out and close the distance, even as I resisted. I would sooner touch a raging lion, golden hypnotic graceful in its fury.

"I…" I began, unsure of what to say.

He cut me off, not paying any attention to my attempt.

"Then I have Tanya telling me that you didn't want to bother me at work!" He cried, her named rolling from his tongue with incredulity. "Because she saw you, too. Everyone at the whole goddamned hospital knew what had happened except me!"

Then he was away from me, backing up and turning around towards the door and back again.

Pacing closer, farther, closer, farther.

His hands were on me suddenly, fingers gripping around my biceps tight as a vice to crack bones. His eyes were burning so close to mine, scorching and uncontrolled. I could hear pounding beats and breathing and I didn't know if they were mine or his.

"After all we've been through! After all those promises to be honest with each other!" His grip on my arms loosened and tightened with each word he uttered. I could feel him press against the ache I already felt from my fall. "I thought you were actually starting to open up to me! Let me into your life a little! And the first time something goes wrong, you pretend like I don't even exist!"

The last word rang in the air, on the silence of an inhale.

I remained motionless, rigid in the hands that held me.

My face burned and my arms ached, but I didn't cry out.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, his face softened. His hands released me only to wrap around my shoulders, dragging my body into his, enclosing me with a sudden desperation. Ever tense muscle relaxed against his chest as he held me gently now but tight. He mrumured an apology into my ear, so quiet and remorseful. I could feel his ragged breathing against my dirty hair and I knew, I knew, that this was survival.

Assuring himself that I was alive.

I felt him pushing me away slightly, his hand reaching up to pull my chin upwards, forcing my eyes to his.

"Why, Bella?" Edward asked me softly, his voice too quiet, too kind. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I pulled my chin from his grasp slightly, but he understood. His hand dropped back down to his side. I held his eyes in mine, still, unable to drop them and refusing to let go of him.

"Because I didn't want you to look at me like you're looking at me now."

I felt Edward's arms loosen around me, his face filled with a sudden confusion. "What?"

I pulled myself from him even as I pushed him back.

He took a step away from me, as I wheeled around, turning my back towards him as I fought the tears that had been building inside of me all day.

The reason I couldn't tell him.

Then, it burst from me.

"I couldn't ride him, Edward!" I said at last, loud and yelling. I turned back to face him, even as I let my tears and emotion turn to anger, turn to fire. "I couldn't ride that goddamn horse and it was the only thing I ever wanted! You were right to be worried, right to think that I…that I couldn't handle him." My voice broke and my eyes fell from his, feeling defeat coursing through me, my anger flicker dwindling as I heard the words spoken aloud; knowing the truth in them. I struggled to keep my grip on it, willing it to keep burning, holding my tears at bay. "And I couldn't bear to see the look in your eyes when I told you. When you knew you were right about him...and about me."

Edward's confusion had turned to surprise and narrowed eyes. "What are you so afraid of?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Your pity, Edward!" I stepped into him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "So don't fucking look at me like that! I don't want it!"

Edward stepped back slightly, allowing me to push him, but I could see his expression hardening slightly.

"I don't pity you," Edward said calmly, firmly in response.

"Like hell!" I cried out, my temper flaring at his denial. "You've always pitied me! From the very beginning! Maybe you loved me then, maybe you didn't, but you slept with me that first night because you pitied me! You married me because I was so fucking pathetic and alone! You never raged or screamed or stood up for yourself, no matter what kind of hell I put you through because you couldn't bear to upset poor, broken Bella!"

Edward was quiet for a long moment.

Then, his voice so quiet, so filled with venom and bite, "You don't know anything."

"Don't I?" I laughed bitterly, hysterically. "I've always been your little pet project. Why don't you see if you can turn this pitiful little girl into someone worth loving, right? Isn't that why you brought me out here?"

I saw the flash of sudden shock on his face, but I ignored it.

"And now!" I continued, with a wave of my hand. "Now I'm finally happy. I finally feel like everything has changed between us, like maybe you don't look down on my anymore. Maybe I am worthy of…of something more. And then something like this happens and you'll just…" I stuttered for a moment, searching for the right way to phrase it. Finally, "I go back to being delicate little Bella who needs to be taken care of!"

My breath was coming in violent bursts and gasps, my heart thumping in my eardrums, butterfly wings and bird feather beats.

Edward looked at me, his mouth open slightly, staggered. I could see him processing my words, I could watch as his mind wrapped around everything I had said and decide what to do with it.

As I found calm, I could see him losing it.

I watched, afraid and fascinated, as his alarm slowly and smoothly gave way to indignation and annoyance.

"How can you think this of me?" he hissed, at last.

"I don't want you to see weakness in me," I told him, my voice quieter now, but still firm and still conscious. Every bit of strength that I wanted him to see. Every bit of strength I had left. "Never, never again."

There was another long pause.

Edward seemed to be studying me now, choosing his words carefully.

"I had no idea." His voice was a whisper and a shaking head.

I blinked, caught off guard once more by his words. "About what?"

"I had no idea you were so blind," he said as he took a step towards me, scowling, brows furrowed and frustrated. "You can't see yourself. You certainly can't see me."

"What are you –" I started to ask.

He cut me off once again.

"Pity, Isabella, is a horrible emotion. I despise anyone who holds it up as a virtue," he said quietly, his voice low and menaced with an honesty and revulsion I had never heard before. "It is a deep, dark aching feeling that finds no light and no hope, only depravity and shame. The person you pity is the person you have no respect for, the person who is completely and horribly void of redeeming qualities." I felt my heart sink, twisting in my stomach, when he paused. Then, "I have never, in my entire life, pitied you."

He was close to me then, his gaze so intense on me.

"No…" I didn't know where the word came from, or what it meant.

I could feel my head shaking, my hands quivering, and I took a step back.

He moved with me. Towards me.

"Not then, and not now," he continued. Then he added, with a slightly derisive smile, "You haven't changed. Not one bit."

I felt as though he had slapped me in the face.

I fought the stinging in my eyes once more, willing it back so that I could face him, vision unblurred.

Turn it to anger and stand up straight.

"How can you say that?" I snapped at him.

All the months here, all we had been through, every step I had taken to make my life better. I had worked and earned and helped and smiled. I had learned what it meant to forgive, and to love. I had ached and longed and felt sadness for someone other than myself. I had seen value in my life, seen value in the lives of those around me.

I felt as if nothing in me was the same.

It was all upheaval and torture and the struggle to stay the truth.

How could he deny it?

But then, he wasn't.

He was shaking his head and smiling at me, just a little.

"The woman I married, the woman I loved…for a long time I thought I was wrong about her. That I had been wrong my entire life." He was looking straight at me, his words slow and deliberate. "But I wasn't. Not about you."

My chest expanded slightly with my sharp intake of breath.

When he took another step towards me, I didn't move away.

I couldn't say anything.

"Everything that's happened out here…some of it's been horrible, some of it I regret more than words. But I wouldn't do it any differently. Because it allowed me to see you again...really see you. Without everything else in the way, I could see with complete and perfect clarity exactly what you are." He paused, I held my breath. "You've given me back something that I thought I'd lost."

His hands were on me again, this time gentle. One hand on my shoulder, the other reaching up to my face, thumb brushing against the corner of my jaw tenderly.

"Even at your worst, even at your most horrible and cruel and miserable and depressed, I never pitied you."

His leaned and then his lips were brushing lightly against my forehead.

"There is nothing in you that even knows the meaning of the word."

I could feel his body, so warm and close to mine. He remained still, his mouth now breathing steady against my hair as if he was waiting for me to react.

His lips didn't touch my skin again.

"You're wrong," I whispered, trembling.

"I'm not," he said easily, I could feel him shaking his head. Then he was leaning back, his hand still pressing against my face, his eyes seeking mine. "Not about this."

I breathed out.

"I'm sorry I hid from you."

Edward smiled.

"I forgive you."

I blinked, surprised. "Just like that?"

His smile grew a little wider and he shrugged. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. I've always known you," he told me simply. "You didn't do it to hurt me. You never have."

"How can you say that?" I asked him, incredulous.

"You react from fear, from pain, from doubt. From the stupid idea you have in your head that you're not good enough for love," he said, his eyes blazing with an anger that wasn't directed at me, a passion that went beyond my presence in front of him. "Everything you've ever done has come from that one, single thought."

I nodded slowly, unsure.

Edward's fingers moved slowly back into my hair, twisting around stands and suddenly feeling the dried blood that I had forgotten to clean, the lump under my skin. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed slightly as he felt the wound with tender caresses, touching so soft and easy, causing no pain.

Then his hand returned to my jaw, the other reaching up to mirror it. My head between his hands, my pale neck soft beneath his palms, he looked straight at me.

"I'm so glad you're alright," he said sincerely, passionately. Then, he shook his head. "That's all. No pity, no fear, no tiptoes. I'm just…glad."

I smiled at him weakly and nodded.

His hands were warm on my neck, fingers pressing down lightly on the pulse, feeling the thrum beneath my skin. As if he was testing to make sure I was solid, reassuring himself that I wasn't hurt. I couldn't look away from him, even if I wanted to.

I didn't want to.

I wanted to fling my arms around him and thank him. I wanted to tell him that I trusted him, that I wanted to trust him always. I wanted to beg him not to leave me. I wanted to rip the divorce papers up into a thousand pieces and through them into the wind. I wanted him to know that I would never hurt him again, that I would never want to. I wanted to tell him that I knew what he meant now when he talked about love. I wanted to tell him that I loved him.

"What are you thinking?" Edward asked quietly, his head dipping down slightly so that we were eye to eye.

I shook my head, smiling sadly. "You don't want to know."

Edward's face was only a breath away from mine then, our eyes locked.

His hands were still holding my face, holding me captive as he drew near to me.

"Everything," he whispered against my lips.

Then he was kissing me.

It was so different.

So, so different.

His mouth against mine - not demanding or searching, taking or needing - simply holding. My arms remained limp by my sides, unwilling to lift them, to put my hands on him. I wanted to feel him only in that one place where we were connected, with nothing to distract me from the feel of his mouth, memorized and fitted against my own. Small and chaste, but not tentative. Patient and both of us wanting.

His lips parted slightly and I felt his breath against me.

The soft of the air pushed my mouth from his and I dropped my head, his lips sliding and bumping gentle up to my nose, my eyes, my forehead.

Then my head was on his chest and my hands were fisted into his shirt, gripping him tightly and so afraid to look up at him. His chin was on the top of my head and his arms were around me. I pressed my face into him and my entire body against the entire length of his.

Into the skin of his neck I breathed, barely whispering. "I'm drowning."

His arms tightened and his lips brushed my hair.