A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.

Broken – Chapter 4

One Year Later:

"Mom."

I stood and buttoned my blazer as she approached. She cut a striking figure in her elegant black dress and black patent heels, copper hair pulled back into a bun so that her diamond studs sparkled in the restaurant's dim lighting. Several pairs of eyes alighted on her; some merely admiring the modern throwback she presented to the fashion of the nineteen-sixties – her signature era – while some recognized her as the head of EMC Fashion House: talented, ingenious, innovative, and beautiful.

"Edward, sweetheart."

I, on the other hand, knew her as someone warm, generous, caring, and openly affectionate with those she loved and who loved her, truly loved her, in return. With so many unusual and complex facets to her personality, it wasn't the first time I found myself wondering why the fuck she remained with Carlisle Cullen after That Day.

And just like that, the fleeting thought of That Day a quarter of a century in the past whisked me away from the present and back to another day just as horrific, if not more so, yet much…much more recent. These days, despite the full year I'd had, and despite the distance I'd purposely kept between myself and all those involved in that more recent incident, it didn't take much to take my mind back to that day…back to Bella.

'I've got you, and everything will be okay. I promise.'

'Edward…I'm frightened…'

'Don't be frightened. You were so brave…so strong…'

'Edward…'

'…Bella…they will never break you again…'

My grin only faltered for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for my mother to catch it as she slid her arms around my shoulders, and for her smile to falter in return. Nonetheless, I enveloped her and lifted her heeled feet off the ground, making her chuckle when I groaned.

"Hey, Mom."

"Edward, sweetheart, how I've missed you."

Her grip tightened, and for a few long moments, we held on silently. Then, with a deep sigh, my mother pulled back, and I set her and her heels back on the marble ground. Her hands still rested on my shoulders, and as she met my gaze, her eyes narrowed and zeroed in. With a snort, she shook her head.

"You never got it taken care of."

I offered her a careless shrug. "I didn't have time. There were much more important matters going on around me, which sort of trumped a stupid bump."

Esme brushed a finger lightly against my nose. "It's a bit skewed too," she mused, and with another sigh, she met my eyes again. "But that's the story of your life, isn't it, Edward? As long as everyone else is safe and sound, what's a little bump and bend in your life?"

There was no reproach in the statement; it was merely stated as fact, and when I neither agreed nor disagreed, she cupped my cheek and offered me a soft smile.

"Well, a little bump on the nose never killed anyone, and it certainly hasn't negated the fact that you're still the most handsome young man in the world."

"The fact that you're my mother doesn't bias you at all," I chuckled.

"Not at all," she replied. "Just look at all the eyes on you."

I leaned in closer and smirked. "Those eyes are on you, Mom. Come on, let's sit."

Pulling out her chair, I waited for my mother to smooth down her dress and sit before I took my seat across from her. As soon as I did, Esme reached for my hand atop the white linen table.

"So, tell me how you've been, sweetheart. What's kept you going for the past year? I can't believe it's been that long."

"Mom," I chuckled, "you act like I wasn't in touch with you the entire time I was away."

"Hasty phone calls in between dropped connections and occasionally allowing me to see you on a screen aren't the same," she grinned.

With a grin of my own, I indulged her. "Well, when I arrived in Costa Rica right after the…uh…" I cleared my throat, "the incident, I arrived to relatively good news. It appeared that the cough syrup which I'd suspected as culprit, with it being the only common factor between everyone who'd gotten sick, was indeed the cause of sickness and death."

"Oh, my goodness." Esme set her free hand over her heart. "Yes, I remember that."

I nodded. "Can you believe the manufacturers were using an industrial solvent, a component of antifreeze actually, in the medication?" I scowled, raking a hand through my hair as I recalled the handful of people who'd lost their lives. "More than a few people are going to rot in jail for that bit of criminal idiocy."

"It sounds like it serves them right," Esme whispered shakily.

"It sure as hell does," I agreed. "Sometimes, the law actually is semi just."

The sommelier approached and introduced herself. She made small talk, took our wine order, and when she moved away, I continued.

"Anyway, from Costa Rica, Emmett and I were sent to Puerto Rico to investigate a Zika outbreak. The increased travel to and from the island as well as the above-average rainfall last year made it a breeding ground for infected mosquitoes to transmit disease. We spent a couple of months there, then a couple of months in Asia to combat the latest influenza strains, such as-"

"No, don't go into specific strains," she teased, putting a hand up between us.

"Fine, I won't go into specific strains," I smirked. "From Asia, we flew to West Africa to help the WHO with the Ebola outbreak they've been trying to keep under control for the past few years. We retrained much of the medical field teams on proper treatment and on the proper use of their PPE-"

"Remind me again what PPE stands for?"

"Sorry," I chuckled, "Personal Protective Equipment."

My mother swallowed hard and shook her head. "Edward, if I wasn't so damn proud of you, I'd spend every waking moment curled up into a fetal position."

"I know what I'm doing out there, Mom, and I take precautions," I said vaguely.

She squeezed my hand. "I know you know what you're doing, and I pray you're always careful."

"I am. I promise. Always. Besides, after a year on the road, the department director also seems to think I need to stay put for a while. I don't think I'll be traveling much until late in the year, for next season's influenza research. So, you can take a break from trying not to curl into a fetal position."

When the waiter arrived, we both straightened and provided our orders. When he walked away, Mom offered me another one of her brilliant smiles.

"Edward, I've always found your work fascinating to discuss, despite the inherent dangers. The fact that you're so self-effacing about those dangers simply makes you more amazing in my book."

I angled myself sideways and crossed my legs. "Stop it, Mom. You're making me blush," I said facetiously.

"Jokester," she smirked. "What I'm trying to say is thank you for sharing with me, even if you do keep the worst of the details to yourself." When she grinned knowingly, I chuckled under my breath.

"Well…I'm sure there are inherent dangers in your line of work too, Esme."

"Oh, yes. God forbid my scissors nip a finger instead of a piece of fabric."

I burst out laughing. "Mom, this is how I know I inherited my sense of humor from you and not from Carlisle. Can you imagine Dad ever making a joke like that? 'God forbid, Edward'" I said, mimicking the great Doctor Carlisle Cullen's voice, "'God forbid my surgical knife nips an aortic valve instead of a stitch.'"

Mom had to hold in her stomach from the force of her laughter. "Edward, you're so bad. Of course, Carlisle wouldn't joke about that."

"Of course, he wouldn't," I smirked, rolling my eyes.

Here, she offered me a melancholic smile. "He's missed you as well."

"Pfft." I waved a hand. "Speaking of fetal positions, he's got a grandson now." I grinned wryly. "I can't believe they named that poor kid after his whipped, useless, piece-of-shit father. I mean, as if the kid isn't gonna have enough hurdles to jump just by being sired by that fucker and birthed by that witch. Jasper Junior." I shuddered. "And she took our cousin James' name as the kid's middle name? Jamie doesn't even like her."

My mother chuckled, covering her mouth as if she could hide it. "You're so bad, honey. He is the sweetest little boy, though; five months old now, and none of it is his-"

"None of it is his fault. Yes, I know the party line. So how is the stolen, little family? Are they living their happily ever after?"

Esme sighed. "They seem to fight a lot, and by 'they' I mean Alice. He…Jasper doesn't say much. He seems happy about his son, but even that…the man always looks dazed – like a deer caught in headlights."

"Where Alice is the headlights." I chuckled coldly. "Yeah, that's how I read him once."

Esme eyed me speculatively. "Nonetheless, darling, what I really want to know…I asked you a few minutes ago how you've been and what's kept-"

The sommelier appeared with a bright smile, a brilliantly white serving towel draped over one arm, and a bottle of one of the best vintages the restaurant had to offer in the other. She was a slim, petite woman, perhaps in about her mid to late twenties, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and dark eyes framed by a smooth complexion. And if it wasn't for the fact that her manner and conversation were way too bubbly, she may have reminded me of someone else. Then again, it didn't take much to remind me of that someone else.

The sommelier conversed excitedly and pleasantly as she filled our goblets and simultaneously filled us in on the vintage's background information. She stuck around for a bit, eyeing us expectantly as Esme and I swirled our glasses, and offering a broad grin as we brought the goblets to our mouths.

"Well?"

"It's delicious. Thank you, miss," I said.

"Yes, wonderful. Thank you, Irina," my mother said.

Nonetheless, the sommelier appeared somewhat dissatisfied.

"Is there anything else I may get for you?" she asked, eyes on me. "Anything at all?"

"Mom?"

My mom shook her head.

"Then, I think we're good for now. Thanks once again, miss."

"Yes, thank you once again, Irina," my mother said with a smile.

"What do you think we did wrong?" I whispered as the sommelier departed with a half-hearted smile not nearly as excited as the one she'd sported earlier. "Did we swirl wrong? Now that there is Dad's field of expertise," I grinned, exaggerating my swirl.

"Oh, Edward." Mom chuckled quietly. "For someone so observant, sometimes you can be so thoroughly unobservant. It makes me wonder about…"

"What makes you wonder about what?"

She shook her head and smiled behind the rim of her goblet. "Never mind."

For a handful of minutes, we sipped our wine and carried on small talk. When I finished my first serving, I cleared my throat and poured myself another glass, keeping my eyes on the goblet.

"Mom, there are a couple of things…" I drew in a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "First, I want to thank you for what you did last year for…for Bella."

When I looked up, Esme held my gaze steadily, elbow on the table and goblet held loosely in one hand.

"I wish I could've done more, Edward, but considering the charges she faced, the accusations that Alice and Mrs. Hale's-"

"You mean 'Bella.'" I clarified. "You did mention Alice's bastard of a boyfriend divorced her. Correct?"

Esme nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I did mention that. On that day in the lobby, Bella's own husband – at the time," she qualified, "made accusations against her. There were also accusations made by a strange woman who was upset because Bella apparently yelled curse words at her son and destroyed his cell phone." Esme sighed. "And like I said, there was Alice."

'No, officers, don't let her go! I'm pregnant, and she threatened me and my baby, and she attacked her own husband!'

'And she broke the lobby window!'

'And she threatened my son and broke his phone! She's obviously deranged and dangerous!'

"Edward?"

Blinking, I shook the shitty memory out of my head. "I'm sorry, what?"

Esme's eyes narrowed. "I was saying there was just no way to get her off without punishment; in her case, therapy. It took me all night to talk a modicum of sense into your sister, and by the time I arrived at the precinct, Bella's father had already bailed her out, which all things considered was for the best. I doubt either one of them would've wanted to see me or any reminder of Alice. I did speak with Officer Weber- do you remember her? She said you and she…had a couple of conversations that day?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember Officer Weber," I replied vaguely.

"She said she kept a close eye on Bella throughout the night…snuck her a sandwich and some blankets." Esme whispered conspiratorially as if the NYPD was at the table next to us. "And since it happened to be a slow night overall, thank goodness, she was able to place Bella in a holding cell by herself."

"Lovely. Did they serve her tea as well?" I grinned sarcastically. But then I shook my head and snarled. "It doesn't make any of it better. None of it could've made the night less unbearable when she didn't deserve to be there in the first place," I spat. "She didn't deserve any of what those assholes put her through."

Esme held my gaze. "Edward, I wasn't there-"

My eyes flashed in outrage. "What's the hell does that mean? Because you weren't there, you don't know whether she deserved what happened or not?" I leaned sharply across the table and bounced a finger against the linen-dressed table, in turn making the silverware jump. "Did you deserve it when it was you? Are there any circumstances under which you would've deserved it?"

"Edward, that's not fair," she breathed, reaching for my hand, but as much as remorse already gnawed at me for speaking to my mother that way, it was trumped by my indignation on behalf of Bella. I pulled my hand out of her reach.

Esme spoke slowly and carefully. "That's not what I was about to say, Edward. What I was going to say is I wasn't there…but I can imagine the pain that poor woman felt that day." This time, when she reached for my hand, I allowed her to take it. "My heart went out to her, Edward, truly. And over the past year, I've wondered…many things, including which is worse: seeing it yourself…or knowing your seven-year-old son saw it?"

"Assholes," I gritted through my teeth.

Esme snorted. "The point is, sweetheart, it's taken me a while, but…I realize now that what I deceived myself into thinking was strength on that day, on My Day, strength for fighting to keep our family together despite Elizabeth's…and your father's betrayal, was really weakness."

I glared down at our hands. "I suppose you thought you were making the best decision for all involved."

She reached out and cupped my jaw, waiting for me to meet her eyes. "Thank you so much for always standing by me, sweetheart," she choked, "but did I really think that? I don't know. All I know is that for the past year, ever since Mrs. …Bella handled her day her way, I've replayed My Day my way almost nightly, and in this replay, I yelled, screamed, cursed, shouted…and I threw things, and instead of tucking you into bed and promising you everything would be fine in the morning…"

"Mom…"

"Instead of doing that, I pulled you into my arms," she said in a strangled whisper, "and I cried with you, and I made sure that you knew that you would always be my priority, that you came before our reputations in society, you came before my struggling fashion house, and you came before your father's growing career. And when Alice was born-"

"Mom, it doesn't matter now."

"It does, Edward. It matters because I know, as a woman, that Bella's fury must've come from somewhere deeper than what she saw That Day. And it matters because that same day, when I saw you rush out of your father's office in a rage, when I cupped your cheek and forced you to meet my gaze, I forced myself to acknowledge the damage I'd caused when it was me in Bella's place a quarter of a century ago. So, when Alice was born," she continued, "instead of pretending the entire event was a blessing, I should've sat with you and reminded you that you were the only completely innocent being in the entire situation and that Alice would be as much…or as little a part of your life as you wanted it, and only if she were brought up…if I were allowed to instill our values in her instead of being nothing more than a part-time babysitter."

I snorted and shook my head. "What about her mother? What about Elizabeth? Shouldn't she bear any of the blame here?"

"It was my job, as mother to Alice's half-brother, to make sure that Alice never grew up into a person who would one day hurt her brother with her actions."

"It was just a broken nose," I muttered.

For one long moment, Esme held my gaze.

"Edward, what happened in that lobby a year ago was simply the result of my own mistakes. I should've...could've handled everything so differently, and perhaps, I could've kept that young woman from experiencing something so horrific. You know what The Butterfly Effect is, right?"

"More or less. Something to do with Chaos Theory."

"One minuscule change in a complex system can have reverberating effects…a man stops for a sandwich and triggers two world wars, another man's application to art school is rejected, and he lives on in infamy…a woman finally finds herself and…and the tongue-lashing I gave Alice in your father's office together with the threats I made were the least I could do to make up for my own mistakes."

For a long while, we were both quiet. The waiter delivered our sizzling steaks. Its savory steam rose in rivulets and found their way into my skewed nostrils.

"Edward?"

Again, I blinked up at Esme, unsure of how long I'd been staring at my steak. It no longer sizzled.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Edward…" – her pearls moved along her delicate throat as she swallowed, "sweetheart, what I've mostly wanted to discuss…to ask you this past year, what I would never ask you over something as impersonal as a phone call or even a Facetime call is…"

"Mom?" I prompted. "What is it?"

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, fingering the strand at her neck.

"I've tried to explain my reasons for attempting to help Mrs. …for attempting to help Bella, but Edward, why, sweetheart? Why, a year later, are you obviously still so angry…so concerned…so affected by anything to do with Bella...Swan?"

The sommelier…Irina reappeared with a bounce in her step.

"Would you like me to bring you another bot-"

I covered my glass. "No, thanks," I said without breaking eye contact with Esme.

"Swan," I finally said. "So…that's her maiden name?"

Esme nodded slowly. "Alice happened to mention it the other day. She said she was glad to hear Bella reclaimed her maiden name so that when she and Jasper get married, she'll be the only-"

"I don't care, Mom." I shrugged. "I don't want to know about Alice's happy plans for the future."

"Then who do you want to know about, Edward? What's been going on with you, sweetheart?" she asked again when I failed to answer her first question. "Amid all those diseases, sicknesses, and viruses you've fought all year…what's kept you going?"

Drawing in a deep breath, I swept my eyes away from Esme. They landed on the darkened restaurant windows where, beyond them, people lived their lives as if there were no consequences.

"You know that Butterfly Effect you just mentioned, Mom?"

"Yes?"

I met her eyes again. "Maybe there's a reason why everything happened as it did, and we just don't see it yet. The butterfly hasn't flapped its wings."

"What's kept you going, baby?"

'…there are two guys right outside, both dressed in Hibachi gear, chef hats, and dirty aprons, playing dice and smoking away the afternoon as if they haven't a care in the world…'

I laughed and laughed. 'You painted that so perfectly, I can practically see them.'

'Yes, I'm a wonderful story-teller…'

'Well, it sounded like a wonderful story to me.'

'I tend to get easily distracted by what's going on beyond a window…'

'I'm a wonderful story-teller…'

'Take care, Stranger…'

She was an imaginative wordsmith.

'Just stopped by for a bit. The hubby's waiting for me! Love the apartment, Al! I'll see you at work tomorrow!'

She was a good friend.

'You were supposed to be my friend! One of my best friends! And you're fucking my husband?'

She defended what was hers, even when what was hers was a piece of garbage and didn't deserve her defense.

'We've been having issues, Jasper, not goddamn lovers on the side.'

She understood the meaning of fidelity, and she expected fidelity in return.

'Was this all a mistake, Jasper, caused by the stress we've been under? We can work through it if that's the case.'

She was capable of unconditional love – unconditional love and forgiveness even when the person she was willing to forgive didn't deserve that either.

'She's pregnant! She's pregnant with my baby!'

She wanted a family so badly she'd put herself through hell for it.

'I've got you, and everything will be okay. I promise.'

'Edward…I'm frightened…'

'Don't be frightened. You were so brave…so strong…'

'Edward…'

'…Bella…they will never break you again…'

'Edward…'

'Edward…'

"Edward?"

I shook my head. "A ghost has kept me going, Mom. A figment of my imagination…and nothing more."

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