Thank you so much for all your thoughts and feedback. I know people don't like cliffies... that was the last one (I think lol). Anyway, just going to leave this here.

Next update will be next Saturday.

(Ps. Check out iambeagle's new fic, "The Procedure". I'm hooked!)

Chapter 20

2007

I've been up for hours already, watching the sunrise through slatted blinds. The light between them started out ghostly pale, gradually turning pink, then orange, the shadows getting bolder.

Now, it's bright, the tree outside in the front yard dappling the light as it moves in the wind.

Spots of sunlight land on post-its, stuck like a patchwork on the wall beside my bed, carefully written out by me. Words indented, traced over more than once.

My name is: Bella Marie Swan

I am: 19 years old.

I was born on: 13th September 1987.

There's Polaroids, each labelled carefully. Mom. Dad. Garrett (brother). Vanessa (sister-in-law). Kaitlin (niece). Photos tacked up of other people: Rose, Heidi, Jasper. Some of us together, some of us apart, labelled with dates on smaller sticky pointers.

My eyes linger on one that peeks out from a pile of paper on my desk. Stretching out an arm, I gently tease it out with two fingers.

Holding it carefully, my thumb comes to trace over the faces staring back at me, a glow of happiness in wide smiles and crinkled eyes. My chest tightens, my next breath sharp.

Oz raises his head from where he's curled up on the end of my bed, staring at me with soulful eyes, as if he can sense the dread rooted in my stomach. One stolen glance at the dress hanging off a silver hanger against the wardrobe and I look away just as quickly.

My hand is nuzzled into, and I reach to scratch behind golden ears, the resulting thump of Oz's tail against the bedding enough to raise a small smile. I lean down and press my face into the fur on the top of his head.

At least someone is.

Happy.

At nine there's a soft knock, Mom poking her head in. I'm not showered. I haven't even moved. Oz gets up, dropping off the bed with a thump, and looking back at me as if to say what are you waiting for?

"Are you ready?" Mom asks softly.

I shake my head, sheets twisted between my fingers, anxiousness wreaking havoc.

"I don't want to go."

"Oh, honey." She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. Her weight dips the bed as she sits next to me, wrapping her arms around me tight. "It's going to be fine." She kisses the top of my head, smoothing down my hair.

My eyes find the calendar behind her, boxes crammed with stuff that reminds me of how far I've come and how far I have to go.

27th May

J birthday 11 am

28th May

PT w/ Austin 2 pm

Therapy w/Vanessa 6 pm (Skype)

29th May

Neuro appointment w/ Dr. Snow 9 am. Portland.

30th May

CT scan Dr. Gendry 11:20 am Portland

31st May

PT w/Austin 4 pm

"It's going to be fine," Mom says, again.

I hear it so often I wish I could believe her.

…

Leaving Mom behind, her face creased in worry, I guide myself down the path. Trees shade it, the last of the blossom strewn over the ground. My dress swirls around my thighs as I awkwardly turn, giving her a wave to tell her it's okay. She can go. I have my cell; I have my crutches and now I'm actually here—I have my determination.

I find where Jasper is without too much trouble, but when I do, something freezes me to the spot.

Adjusting sweaty palms around padded handles, I take a step closer until I'm resting a hand on smooth black granite.

"Happy Birthday, Jazz," I breathe into near silence.

I close my eyes, tears burning behind lids, throat dry.

"I wish you were here."

But he isn't.

He isn't here.

He isn't anywhere.

I wipe away my tears hastily, even though there's no one here to see them. Today he would have been nineteen, and there isn't a single day that goes by that I don't think about him.

And about how, sometimes, I wish it was me instead. Because sometimes the guilt of surviving is just… fucking unbearable.

And it's selfish because Jasper never had a choice. He never had a chance. He's suspended in time. Eighteen years young, forever.

I glance around, a shiver running up my spine. The cemetery is unnervingly still around me. I've always thought they were kind of creepy, and I still can't shake that feeling. The thought of people's loved ones beneath slabs of granite or stone just doesn't seem… right to me.

When I die I want to be cremated, and then I want to be sprinkled in the river and in the woods and in the mountains. I want to be free to dance around the earth one last time.

It's morbid, but I've had a lot of time to think about it.

Life and Death.

How I lived between them for weeks after.

After.

Today isn't about me though.

Today is about Jasper. My quirky, funny, dorky, best friend, who should be here lighting up a joint and savaging hipsters and scene kids, telling me about college and mocking me for not keeping up with all the new music he's discovered.

For a moment I can imagine it. Him. Talking, laughing, hitting a joint. The ghost of him in front of my eyes.

And then he's gone.

Voices carry and I'm quick to move back from where I'm tracing the gold letters of his name. Too fast. I wobble, precariously, so close to falling on my ass.

"Bella?"

I turn slowly.

It's Rose that's spoken, her voice soft. Hand in hand with Heidi, she wordlessly lets go to stand in front of me. She's wearing red lipstick and dark sunglasses, hair curled perfectly. It's been… I'm not sure how long it's been. Two months? Maybe three. They all blur together now.

"You actually came," she says, as if she doesn't quite believe it. She looks at Heidi over her shoulder. "We didn't think you would."

I bite my lip. I didn't think I would either. She takes another step toward me, her arms widening, wrapping around me tight.

"I'm so glad you did," she whispers in my ear, squeezing me extra hard. "We miss you."

A hand finds my shoulder, Heidi slipping her arm around me too.

What they miss though, is how things used to be.

Before.

And I miss it too. But you can't just turn the clock back like that.

You can't turn back losing a friend.

Almost losing your life.

Losing your independence; the ability to do the most basic of things, like going to the bathroom yourself and writing your name. Walking, even.

Rose pulls back, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You haven't answered my messages in months."

"Sorry," I say to my feet. In truth, I've been dealing with things I'm not even sure I am dealing with. Concerns raised by doctors that make me feel even more broken.

She sighs, impatient, annoyed, and frustrated.

"You should know—"

"Bella?" My head turns.

It's Jasper's mom that's softly called my name. Her arms are already open and outstretched. Rose and Heidi move as she envelops me, holding me like my own mom does, hand on the back of my head, cradling me to her. It makes me want to cry again.

"Hi, Caroline."

She holds on tighter for a second, fleeting concern across her face as she studies mine. Blonde hair perfect, she still smells like Chanel No. 5. I always loved that about her.

"Gosh, look at you." She smiles fondly at me, but her eyes are watery, red-rimmed. "So beautiful. Just like your mom, right, Al?"

Alistair blinks. Older, thinner, and greyer than I've ever seen him. Like a ghost of himself. Not a shadow. Shadows are solid, but he's almost transparent, grief etched into every heavy line on his face.

"Sure do, kiddo. Chuck's coloring though, gotta say that."

He pats my back as he gives me a hug, hands coming to still me at my arms, gently, nothing but care in his touch.

"Are you doing well?"

I tense even before their eyes sweep to my leg; self-conscious. Still, it's better than the wheelchair. I loathe that thing. I know they saw me in the hospital, but my memories of the weeks after the crash are hazy.

"Slow progress."

"Well, progress is progress right? And you seem a lot more… with it," Mr. Whitlock says.

I bite at my lip, gnaw at it.

He means well.

He does.

But people telling me stuff like this doesn't really help.

"I guess so," is all I can manage.

"That's such good news, Bella," Caroline says, squeezing my arm.

I don't bother to correct them with truths. That all there's been lately is a never-ending stream of setbacks.

Mr. Whitlock's eyes move to Jasper's headstone and he lets out a defeated sigh, running a hand through salt and pepper hair.

"He'd have hated this," he says, matter of fact. "We almost decided not to do it."

"Much rather we'd have gone to a gig, I'm sure."

He laughs and breaks into a genuine smile.

"You're right about that."

I look around then, eyes settling on two familiar figures hovering, talking to Heidi. My heart stutters in my chest, my stomach dropping, because I didn't count on them being here.

Rose's hand comes to rest on my shoulder as I look away, feeling stupid. Swallowing the nausea down. Of course they're here.

Of course they are.

"I'm sorry, we didn't know you were coming otherwise I'd have said something," Rose murmurs in my ear.

Every heartbeat thuds against my chest as I work myself up to looking again, because I'm trying to look everywhere but.

And I do.

Because I can't help it.

I can't help myself.

Dressed in a black button down, his hands in dark jean pockets, his eyes are trained on polished shoes, jaw set, brow furrowed.

He's hard to look at.

Painfully good looking.

But everything about him is wrong.

As if he can sense me staring, his head raises. Sea-green eyes hold my gaze for seconds—if that—before movement catches my eye, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

And the jolt of seeing them together in real life doesn't hurt any less.

It guts me. Inside out.

My eyes find the ground, the flowers, a laminated picture of Jasper with a big cheesy grin, and all I want to do now is disappear into the ground along with him.

"Do you need to sit down?" Heidi asks, "I'm sure we can find a bench–"

"I'm fine." It comes out too abrasive, too loud. But it irritates me, everything about not being independent irritates me. Heidi assesses me silently.

"Okay," she says, simply.

"I'm sorry," I tell her as she slips her arm through mine. She doesn't say anything, giving me a gentle squeeze.

"Take your time, son," Alistair calls out, glancing at his watch as Emmett appears in the distance, tie askew, his stride wide.

He claps Edward on the shoulder, gives Alice a tight nod and then bear hugs Rose, Heidi, and me altogether—squashing us.

"Emmett! Watch her ankle, you moron!" Rose snaps; pushing him away with a scowl.

"Ah, shit. Sorry. I forgot."

He looks down at my boot walker and my crutches, and I think it must be nice to be able to just forget.

Alistair clears his throat, looking around at us all.

"Carol and I... we're so grateful you've come out today for Jasper—for us. I know it hasn't been easy this year, for any of you. But we really appreciate you taking the time out of your lives to be here. He'd have worried about it: no one showing up, no one remembering him but, well, you're here, and that means so much."

"It really does," Caroline says, a weak smile as she looks around at us all. "We thought it might be nice to just… share a memory or something Jasper did that made you laugh? Something that maybe we don't know." Her voice raises hopefully and I know no one's going to deny her this. "Emmett? Do you want to go first?"

Emmett heaves a breath through his nose, and I listen with trepidation as he and Rose take it in turns to remind us just how much of a goofball Jasper was. But I can't even raise a smile, a throb of anxiousness that makes me tug at the hem of my dress.

My voice is eerily steady when it's my turn, even though my whole body feels like it's vibrating.

"The first time I met Jasper, we were in first grade. He had a tiger picture next to his peg. I had a… flamingo? Something like that. I didn't like it so he snuck his picture off the wall, cut out the tiger and stuck it over mine." I pause, my lips tugging upwards. "As if our teacher wouldn't notice. I took the blame because I didn't want him to get into trouble. And I think that pretty much sums him up. He had my back, and I had his. I think we were pretty much inseparable after that."

"You were. Every day he came home chattering about his new best friend, Bella. He always thought you were the best thing," Caroline agrees, a scrunched tissue coming to dab at her eyes, as a tear escapes. "If I could keep you both that little forever."

My eyes blur.

Heidi's grip on my arm tightens.

"Well," she says, a wry smile on her lips. "Sorry to completely lower the tone, but one of my favorite memories of Jazz is when we were playing truth or dare at the start of last summer, just after his eighteenth."

Rose snorts, already stifling laughter behind her hand.

"We'd got our hands on some beers, smoked a little… not that we do that a lot," she lies, hastily. "Anyway, Rose dared Jasper to streak naked down the street and back. I mean, obviously he did it, but when he came back, he was just going: 'oh my God', 'oh my God'. Long story short, your elderly neighbor about ten houses away got an eye full of his junk. She'd puckered up her lips, beckoned him... He fully freaked out. It was hilarious."

We laugh. All of us. And when I accidentally catch Edward's eye, his smile fades faster than my stomach drops.

I swallow.

"Edward?"

He drags his eyes away from me, clearing his throat, and when he speaks I'm not really listening to what he's saying, even though I should. I just listen to how his voice sounds.

A vague recollection of being in the store surfaces and I close my eyes briefly, trying to remember, but all too soon he stops speaking.

Alice's voice fills the void instead

Much like she filled my void in his life.

…

Emmett volunteers to drive me to the restaurant a block away, where we're having lunch to 'celebrate'. I don't say it out loud, but I'm kind of relieved for the break.

"How's it going, B?" he asks, as he starts up the engine. "For real?"

"It's going," I tell him, fingers gripping onto the edges of my seat. He glances down at my hands, knuckles white through skin.

"You okay?"

"Just get nervous in cars."

Nervous is sometimes an understatement. My fingers tighten as he pulls off smoothly, my jaw clenching and unclenching. Trying to remember to breathe.

"Understandable. You still seeing my buddy at rehab?" he asks, eyes never leaving the road.

"Austin? Um, yeah. Tomorrow, actually."

"When was your last surgery?"

"Twelve weeks ago. They replaced my whole talus with a titanium one." I glance down at my foot. "It was either that or have my foot amputated. So… So far, so good. I'll be glad when I don't have to see him," I admit. "When I can walk, and I don't have to use the wheelchair or this stuff."

"I get it. Must be hella frustrating for you. Still, I think it'll gut Austin when you're signed off."

"What? Why?"

"Because he thinks you're hot."

"No, he doesn't," I scoff.

Austin thinks I'm a moody bitch. He's not wrong either.

Emmett just smiles, annoyingly, and I like that he's acting… normal around me. It's a rarity. People usually walk on eggshells, treating me as if I might break. Spending a month or two in hospital at death's door does that, apparently.

The restaurant isn't too crowded when we arrive, but even still I tap my good foot restlessly against the floor. Emmett goes out of his way to make sure I have another chair to rest my leg on, but I can't help feeling like my skin is crawling all over me as my anxiety kicks up. I scratch at my arm, trying to ground myself by looking for objects, but it doesn't really work. Not today.

By the time everyone else joins us ten minutes later, I feel claustrophobic and overwhelmed; like I can't breathe.

Rose and Heidi sit either side of me, trying to include me in conversation, but I can't focus.

Her laughter grates, her every casual touch and look sent Edward's way crushing me.

I get up mumbling about the bathroom, dismissing Rose's offer to come with me, making my way slowly through the obstacle course of chairs and tables with my crutches.

Water on my face, patting it down with a paper towel, I stare hard at my reflection. I'm too thin, I know that, but sometimes it's hard to eat. Some of the meds make me lose my appetite and other times I just feel sick to my stomach. Grief, guilt, my sense of self shattered.

I don't even know who I am anymore.

I don't feel like me. I don't look like me either. Mom blew out my hair this morning so it's bouncy and the dress Vanessa picked out is in her boho style. It's pretty and I feel semi-human today. Sort of nice. But still not me.

I resign myself to going back out there, taking deep breaths. I'm here for Jasper, and no one else.

Preoccupied, I careen into someone on my way back. Inevitably, being the one with balance issues and crutches, I'm the one that loses. Preparing to land on my ass hard, I flinch, but it never comes. Hands find my waist, pulling me against a broad chest, a soft "Whoa," in my ear. Then, "Bella Swan?"

"Ben Cheney?"

We stare at each other for a minute before he laughs.

"It is you."

His hands let go slowly, when he's sure I have my balance. He runs one through short blonde hair. He looks good; I think. Older than I remember him, bigger too. Muscle, not fat. He takes in my boot and crutches in a sweeping glance.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," he says, looking awkward. "My bad. I should really look where I'm going."

"It's okay. I wasn't looking either. Um. What are you doing here?"

"Meal with my 'rents. Flew back in from Cincinnati last night. We were actually just leaving. You?"

"Jasper's birthday." I smile sadly, tilting my head toward the table. He glances that way.

"Fuck. Yeah, I heard about that. Well, it was hard not to. All over the news. I'm sorry about Jasper, and what happened to you."

"Yeah. Um. Thanks, I guess."

He looks away and then back at me, eyes trailing over my face in a way that makes me feel self-conscious and way out of my depth.

"I start interning at the rehabilitation center you go to," he says. "I saw your picture on the wall when I interviewed over spring break, actually."

"You did?"

"I did. So, I—um, I might see you around?"

"Oh, well. Yeah, maybe then. That's… cool." Stilted, flushed. My tongue is in knots and there's a weird feeling washing over me.

"Yeah, hey. Have my number."

...

Horizontal, I'm lying on the floor on my side. My whole body aches, my head feeling like it's about to explode.

"Bella, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Does she have a history of epilepsy? Seizures?" asks a voice.

There's a rumble of voices, but they aren't clear.

"They're new," I mumble.

"What's that?" A woman I don't recognize with blonde hair has my head in her lap. She has a kind face, weathered, laughter lines around her eyes. She watches me carefully.

"They're new." I try to get up, but she touches my shoulder gently.

"Just give it a minute."

My hand finds my head throbbing, foggy. A thumb and a finger either side by each temple, and when she finally lets me sit up, I can see I've caused a scene.

People are staring. The whole restaurant, quiet. People hovering. My face grows hot. At least I didn't wet myself this time.

"Don't worry, hon, my son has epilepsy. Nothing I haven't seen before. Think you've given all your friends a scare though."

She laughs and I smile weakly, looking around at worried faces. Rose and Heidi hover close, Caroline on my other side.

Her hand takes mine.

"Are you on meds? See a neuro?" the woman asks.

I hesitate and nod, my hip and leg smarting something bad.

"Good. That's good. Hopefully, they can find the right balance for you. It's all trial and error. Took us years, but my son—seizure free now."

"That's good," I mumble.

They sit me in the nearest chair, the restaurant manager setting me down a glass of water, looking… scared. Like I'm some kind of freak. I'm too tired—too exhausted—to care though. My eyes already closing, drained.

"Are you okay?" Rose says. "You're so pale. And you were—"

"Should we take you to the ER? We should take you to the ER just to be on the safe side," Caroline frets. I open my eyes again, shaking my head slowly.

"I'm fine. Really. I just want to go home. I'm just… tired."

"I can give you a lift," Ben's voice offers. "We've just finished and you don't live that out the way from what I remember. That way you guys can finish your meal."

"Okay."

"Who are you?" Edward's voice is cutting, irritated.

"We went to school with Ben," Heidi tells him.

He's close, nose flaring.

"It's really no trouble," Ben says.

"I'll take her," Edward says. My head swims. My heart thuds. Someone says something that I don't quite catch, and then there's finality in his tone. "I said, I'll take her."

...

Edward's got a new truck. White this time. I want to ask where El Grande went, but my mouth is stuck shut as he helps me into it. His hands firm on my waist.

I want to cry.

"Have those been happening a lot?" he asks when we're moving. I've closed my eyes, the pounding in my head not getting any better, the overwhelming exhaustion overriding my anxiousness of being in the truck. Of being in the truck with him.

"Just a handful."

"You scared me," he admits. "You didn't… You just..." He trails off, and I'm not sure what exactly he's thinking about. Heidi said he was there when I flatlined in the ICU once.

"Sorry."

"You didn't tell anyone? Rose and Heidi said they didn't know any of that stuff you told that woman. They said you haven't seen them in months. Why?"

My head finds the window. I can't muster up a reply.

Because I hate seeing everyone around me live.

Because I hate the feeling of being left behind.

Because I hate being a burden.

Because it's easier to be alone, than it is with people.

Because I hate myself.

Even though it's less than half an hour before we're back at my house, I drift in and out of sleep. Edward helps me out the car, so close for a matter of seconds it makes me feel tearful.

Oz greets me at the door when I open it, his tail wagging excitedly. When he realizes I'm not going to fuss over him, his attention turns to Edward—a new person—and he's all over him. Bouncing, licking, wagging.

"Hey, buddy." Edward strokes his head, scratches behind his ears and when Oz lays down for a belly rub, Edward obliges, on his knees in the hall, rubbing with both hands as Oz laps it up.

I kind of feel betrayed.

He's supposed to love me best.

"You got a dog?" He looks up at me as I lean against the wall.

"His name is Oz," I supply. "He's a pain in the ass."

"Bet you aren't," he says to Oz. "Bet you're a really good boy, yeah?"

Oz barks, happy, his tongue lolling out.

"He likes me."

"He likes everyone."

I move toward the door on our left and open it. What was the dining room, now my bedroom. Self-conscious, this is yet another thing that makes me abnormal.

"Do you need anything?"

"New brain? New foot?" I can't look him in the eye. A time-machine.

"Bella." He sighs my name, almost pained.

I close my eyes, my head finding my pillow, wedging another one under my boot.

"I really just need sleep."

"I'll wait until your Mom's home."

"You don't have to do that," I murmur. "I'll be fine."

"Tough shit. I am." He sits down at my desk, swinging on the chair.

My brain can't turn off now. Knowing he's here. The silence between us is heavy, and it makes me think about the last time we… talked.

Interacted at all.

When I pushed him away. Too far, too hard.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, before I can chicken out.

"You don't…" He trails off. "You don't have to be sorry."

"Maybe we can be friends?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Throwaway, and not thought through. I'm not sure I even mean them. I'm not sure, after everything, I can even do that.

"Friends," Edward says, flatly.

He's not looking at me when he next speaks, eyes on something out the window. He takes in a breath as his head hangs, and when he looks up at me he nods.

"Okay," he says. "Friends."