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

We're almost done. ;)

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

Broken – Chapter 20

"I propose a toast." Emmett held up his Sam Adams, taking me in through somewhat unfocused eyes, grinning my way wickedly, and instantly setting me on alert.

After a few long, exhausting yet productive days at Atlanta's CDC Headquarters, I'd taken our team out for drinks. I was aware I'd pushed them hard over the past few weeks, but they'd more than met all obstacles head-on. They'd blown through them, while still ensuring the final product abided by all CDC health and safety requirements. Now that we were over the biggest hurdles in production of the anti-viral, we could draw in a few, in-between breaths before distribution and administration became top priorities. Therefore, this extended happy hour at the hotel bar was like coming up for air, mid-marathon.

For the next couple of hours, the rounds of drinks, the bar food, the conversation, and the laughter flowed freely. And the freer the rounds flowed, the more unreserved the teasing became.

"To Edward," Emmett continued, while I rolled my eyes and groaned because I knew this couldn't be good, "for surviving yet another likely award-winning TV interview this afternoon with the always professional, Selena Rappaport, TV journalist extraordinaire, and her stimulating piece of investigative journalism."

Both quiet and not-so-quiet snickers popped up around the table.

"To Edward!"

"To Edward!" They all toasted.

"Yeah, Selena investigated, all right." Bonnie snorted. "She investigated the quickest excuse to feel Edward up on TV. I say we toast Selena. To Selena!"

"To Selena!"

Now, the entire group broke out into loud laughter.

"Nice," I smirked, "and she didn't feel me up. She swatted me…jokingly."

"Is that what it is called here in the U.S.?" Maria asked with obvious sarcasm. "Swatting? Because where I am from, we call it juegos previos."

"Foreplay! Hah! A toast to juegos previos! Salud!" Emmett's translation and toast caused the table to descend into the most boisterous round of laughter yet, while fellow customers, bartenders, and wait staff all glanced curiously our way, some toasting along with us.

"Look at it this way, Edward," Collin said once the laughter waned. "At least the interview was recorded; so, they may actually be able to edit out the more…how shall we say...entertaining moments before it airs tomorrow morning."

"You're all so darn funny," I said dryly. "And by the way, Em, if I'm not mistaken, we'd agreed you'd do the interview this time around. Where the hell were you when the time came?"

"Panita, I'm sorry," Emmett chuckled heartily, sounding anything but contrite, "but there was no way in hell I was going to miss watching you turn beet red while you got drooled over once again on national television." Again, he held up his bottle. "One more time! To Edward!"

"To Edward!"

The group toasted and laughed yet again.

Despite the mock scowls, sneers, and glares I sent their way, I was glad for their current levity – both for their sake and mine. It's not bullshit when people claim laughter is the best form of medicine. The group and I had been going at it hard for a while now, and…for the past couple of weeks, I'd been struggling with my own personal demons. They tended to keep me up, tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning.

No, laughter wasn't a cure-all, but a respite for my group from the last few stressful weeks…and a respite for myself from my own muddled thoughts couldn't hurt.

When the ribbing and snickering subsided, I picked up my beer bottle, pushed back my high stool, and stood, while I could still stand without embarrassingly swaying.

"Attention, everyone. It's my turn to propose a toast."

"Oh, shit," Emmett grinned, "payback time."

"Yeah, you all deserve some serious payback," I smirked in return, "so here we go." I held up my bottle. "To all of you jokesters…for the dedication you've shown these past few weeks. I've always been extremely proud, some might even say paternally so," I grinned, making them laugh again, "of the work we do and our successes, but this latest case…" - I inhaled deeply and exhaled through narrowed lips - "well, I don't need to stress to you guys how epically disastrous this could've turned out."

"Like Dum…dum…dum disastrous." Collin mimicked the death knell in a deep, Grim Reaper-style voice, making everyone chuckle.

"Exactly," I smirked before sobering a bit. "Unfortunately, we can't help those who've already gotten sick or who will get sick before the booster is finally in distribution, nor those few with weakened immune systems who got hit hard and lost their lives to the virus. As we're taught at the CDC…we can only help those we can help. Someone told me recently, 'Time moves forward…" I swallowed back the urge to think of her, focused my thoughts on the here and now, and cleared my throat, '"not backward.' Anyway, this afternoon, the Director granted me the privilege of informing all of you that our group will be presented with a humanitarian award at this winter's World Health Organization's general assembly in Switzerland-"

"No way!"

"-in acknowledgment," I continued, "of the group's work in averting what could've potentially turned into a global health crisis."

For a few moments, no one at our bar table spoke, until one by one, each member of the group began a slow, hesitant round of applause, which quickly escalated into thunderous clapping and ear-splitting whistles.

"Holy crap," Emmett said, once the applause died down, "a humanitarian award at the WHO's general assembly. In our world, that's the equivalent to an award at the Oscars."

I chuckled. "More or less, yeah."

"Wow," Collin breathed. "Hey, do you think it'll help me get lucky in the future? Like if I meet a girl and tell her I'm a recipient of the WHO's Humanitarian Award, is it like telling her I won Best Director or something?"

"Only if she's a nerd like you," Bonnie snickered.

We all sniggered.

"Yes, I don't know how much the award will help you get laid, Collin," Maria smirked.

"Well, at least it'll look good on my resume."

"Which you'll need to update after the CDC fires you for inappropriate use of a humanitarian award," I said pointedly.

We roared so heartily the wait staff and bartenders all looked our way, chuckling.

"Uh, oh; there go the CDC scientists, getting all rowdy again," Emmett quipped.

"All right, all right," I chuckled. "Congratulations, everyone. Well deserved."

We all took long chugs from our respective bottles, and as soon as I took my seat, Maria stood.

"I would like to propose one final toast, to Edward."

"Oh, no," I groaned. "Not again."

"Yes." Maria smiled. "One more toast to you, Doctor Cullen, and I will keep it short – for now, because just as you were given the privilege of letting us know about our group acknowledgment at the WHO assembly…I was honored with being asked to present you with a separate, additional acknowledgment of your own."

While everyone cheered, laughed, and clapped me on the back, I shook my head and raked a hand through my hair.

"This is so unnecessary," I said sheepishly.

"It is not," Maria continued. "And since I know you well enough by now…." Trailing off, for one long and awkward moment, she silently held my gaze, "since I know you well enough to know you do not appreciate nor feel comfortable with too much praise, I will save the effusions for the assembly. For now, I will only say that…I thank you for being the best damn team leader with whom I have ever worked. I'm grateful for…for having known you in that respect."

There was a pause, during which the words, 'if nothing else,' were way too loudly unspoken – in my head, at least.

"To Edward!" Bonnie thankfully yelled.

"To Edward!" Everyone replied, raising their bottles.

Emmett quickly called for another round.

OOOOO

After that, everyone in the group slowly trickled out and back to their respective hotel rooms, until only Emmett and I remained. It was past one in the morning, and we were at the bottom of the next – and what I swore were the last – beers, when Emmett cleared his throat, and I instinctively knew I'd remained for one beer too many.

Or maybe I'd purposely done so.

"So, there was a whole lot of double-entendre in that little speech Maria made for you, huh?" He chuckled and took a drink from his almost-empty bottle.

"She was a bit drunk, as most of us were…are, and I didn't notice." I took a drink from my bottle.

Emmett snorted. "So which is it? Was she drunk or did you not notice? Because you sure stared at one another long and hard, and I know it can't be because you regret her now that she's engaged. You've had opportunity after opportunity with her over the past couple of years, yet you wasted them all."

I said nothing.

"Or…are you regretting? Because if you are, you know how those WHO after-parties get; they think they're Grammy after-parties," he chortled. "And Maria won't be married yet, and I'm sure she knows presenting that award to you carries a little bit of-"

"No," I cut him off. "No. I don't mean anything personal against Maria," I added. "She's smart. She's hot. Maybe in another lifetime…under a different set of circumstances…"

"Like if the sky was pink, and we lived on Mars, and unicorns ruled the land?" Emmett grinned.

"Something like that." More than a little drunk, we both snickered. "No. Seriously, she's a great person. She's just not…"

"She's not…?" Emmett prompted.

"She's not the one for me, and you know it, so I don't know why you're pushing it here."

Emmett smirked. "Is that really what you were gonna say? She's not the one for you?"

"It's what I said," I snorted, "so what difference does it make what I was going to say?"

We silently drank our beers. After a few minutes, Emmett sucked his teeth.

"I swear, it's like pulling teeth with you, no matter how many rounds of beer we've had. Are we ever going to discuss her?"

"I thought we just did," I replied.

Emmett quirked a brow at me.

"Em…" I said, and all the while, I fully intended to deflect him, to change the subject, not to wander there as I stared at the empty bottle wrapped in my hands. "Emmett…sometimes…sometimes I wonder what was worse: This past year, when I had no word from her, no idea what she was up to, or this past, couple of weeks, when we've been meeting for lunch, and she's been so damn close…yet more out of reach than ever."

To his credit, Emmett didn't comment right away.

"Edward, you know a hell of a lot more about what's going on between you two than I do, I'll grant you that, but I gotta tell you, man," he snorted, "the other day, when you brought her down to CDC Labs, the way she was looking at you…" he shook his head, "dude, that's not the way one person looks at another when they want to keep that person at arm's length – as evidenced by Maria."

"Emmett," I shook my head miserably, glaring at my bottle, "it's not like that; at least, not for Bella."

"What's it like for Bella, then?"

"What it's like is she needs closure. She needs answers. Emmett, Bella contacted me a couple of weeks ago because she needs my help filling in some of the blanks from That Day so that she can move forward."

"She contacted you?"

"You're focusing on the wrong points. We've been meeting for lunch, hashing out the events of That Day, and the events that led up to That Day, and that's it."

"That's it?" Emmett echoed. "Dude, maybe you're the one focusing on the wrong points here? The way she looks at you; the fact that she contacted you-"

"Em, she's got a boyfriend."

He went quiet for a moment.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I chuckled mirthlessly.

"You're not just…extrapolating?"

"Jesus, Emmett." I raked a hand through my hair and met his gaze. "She confirmed it."

Emmett grimaced. "Shit. Damn."

"Yeah," I snorted. "Shit, damn, and every other fucking expletive you can think of – in English and in Spanish, but it won't change the facts."

And despite Emmett's obvious chagrin at having pushed, I was pissed off now; furious but not with him nor with Bella; not even with the guy from the restaurant. Yet, apparently, fury loosened my tongue.

"And you want to know what else? They live together, and as much as I pretend, as much as I tell myself that I accept the situation…the truth is it's fucking killing me," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I feel fucking gnarled up and twisted and so fucking…" I exhaled roughly, raking a hand through my hair yet again, then fisting it hard. "Because if they live together…if they live together, she really loves him. She loves him and she trusts him because after what she's been through, she wouldn't take that step lightly."

"Ed, maybe-"

"And I'm pissed off, outraged with myself for being unable to feel the acceptance I outwardly display, for being unable to keep my promise to myself that just having known her, having almost called her mine would be enough. Because the truth is…the truth is it's never going to be enough."

Once more, we were silent.

"Ed, what-"

"And, so what if I was extrapolating?" I spat. Oh yeah, I was on a roll now. "It's what we do, isn't it? It's what we're good at; what I'm good at. Yeah, I extrapolated before she confirmed it," I confirmed defensively. "I saw them together at a restaurant a few weeks back, holding hands across a cozy table for two, and for days afterward, I studied that image from every angle, just as if I was on an assignment. I extrapolated an approximation of how long they've been dating, how serious their relationship is." I snorted. "I mean, I see the big picture; I build plans and develop conclusions regarding world events based on fragmented scenarios and incomplete information. Then, I save the world just like you and everyone else are always congratulating me for, acknowledging me for," I grinned sardonically. "You've said it yourself: I save the world even while my own fucking world, while my personal life is a fucking…" With another sardonic chuckle, I cut myself off and faced forward once again.

"Ed, I didn't-"

"Anyway, yeah, through extrapolations and personal statements, I've learned she has a boyfriend, they live together, she's happy, and he's over the moon. End of story," I sneered.

"Ed-"

"And yeah, Emmett; I know I sound like a jealous asshole, but there you go."

"Ed-"

"And, what's more-"

"Ed!" Emmett boomed.

For a handful of seconds, I offered him a blank stare.

"Can I get a word in?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

"Thank you." He rolled his eyes. "Panita, you just went off on a rant and a half, and I'm glad; really, I am. You sounded like you needed to get all that off your chest, but can I rant a bit now, and will you please just listen?"

I quirked a brow. "Go ahead."

Emmett pursed his lips. He scrubbed a hand down his face. He drew in a deep breath, and finally, he dove in.

"All right, now, I hear what you're saying, Ed; I really do. You've built this big picture because it's what you do and what you do beyond well. In this big picture, Bella's got a man; she confirmed it herself. You've learned she lives with this guy, and you've extrapolated a whole lot of other shit and already gave them their happily ever after."

"Em-"

"No." He threw a hand up between us. "Nope. You had your say, now let me have mine."

I drew in a deep breath. Exhaling it heavily, I rested my elbow on the table and supported my head in my hand. "Continue."

"Now, here's the thing, Ed. Yeah," he grinned, "you build big pictures out of fragmented scenarios and incomplete information. And yeah, you're fucking amazing at it. But…I study the small parts," – he bounced a thumb off his chest – "the micro-picture, and I'm kick-ass at that part of the necessary big picture. I take the smallest particles found in those scenarios and put 'em under a damn microscope for God's sake, because many times, that's what you gotta do to figure out the big picture."

"Emmett," I exhaled tiredly, "I know where you're going with this, and while yeah, you're fucking amazing at what you do too, this time, you're wrong. They live together, for God's sake. That's the most important piece of that picture because after all the shit Bella's been through, she wouldn't live with a guy unless she meant it to last forever."

"Yeah, but Edward, here's what you're refusing to consider: If she's living with the guy already, if she's sooo fucking happy, as you claim you've extrapolated, if she's taken this step you don't believe she'd ever take lightly…if she truly loves this guy in a forever sort of way…why is she contacting you for closure?"

Glaring down at my empty bottle, more than half-drunk, I couldn't be sure how much time passed before I replied.

"You told me yourself she'd never be able to get past it: past my lies by omission or past the fact that the woman who almost ruined her life is my sister."

"I never said never, Edward," Emmett replied quietly. "Time moves forward, just as you said. And Ed, if anyone knows about a scenario's ability to change, to fluctuate, it's you; and in those cases, the evidence needs to be reevaluated."

OOOOO

A few hours later, back in my hotel room, I tried to sleep off the impending hangover. Tomorrow – or rather, later that morning – would be our last day in Atlanta, and as usual, it promised to be a busy one. The following day, Bella and I had plans to meet again, probably for the last time.

I tried to sleep, but the welcome oblivion evaded me, thanks to Emmett's misplaced hope running around in circles and taking up unwarranted room in my head.

At some point, I'd drifted, become stuck somewhere in that in-between state of semi-consciousness where dreams and reality fuse…meld into one…and where everything…yet nothing…makes…sense.

My eyes popped open.

Immobilized by disorientation, for a few moments, I didn't move a muscle. I merely stared up at the black ceiling. When my eyes began languidly shuttering again, it happened once more. Then, I realized what had pulled me out of the initial stages of slumber.

Sighing now in frustration, I turned over and read the glowing numbers on the hotel clock, muttering when I saw the time and reached for the vibrating cell phone.

"I swear to God, Emmett if you're texting at three-thirty in the morning to tell me you've run out of money at the hotel bar again, and the bouncer's glaring at you hard, I'm going to come down there and help her beat…the ever-living…shit."

I read the first of the two texts I'd just received.

Edward, you're probably asleep by now, and I'll admit the likelihood that you probably won't see this until morning, at which point you'll likely be way too busy to reply, went a long way in working up my courage to text you.

I shook my head wildly back and forth, tapped my palm hard and repeatedly against my forehead to joggle my brain, to rid it of any remnants of lethargy impeding its function, before I moved on to the next text, delivered two minutes after the previous one.

Please don't take that the wrong way. But, you see, initially, I intended to thank you, once again, for meeting with me a few days ago. I know I haven't. Yet, as I considered it further, I realized that each time we meet, the words 'thank you' ring less and less like an appropriate acknowledgment of your granting me literally precious time and more and more like arrogant self-absorption on my part.

What the hell? What in the world was she talking about?

"What? Arrogant? Self-absorbed? Jesus, Bella, no two words in the English language could be further from an accurate description of you."

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out as much in reply, when a conversation bubble with three, little dots appeared on the screen. Bella was typing again, and…

And I had to know what sort of thoughts about me filled her mind at three-thirty in the morning, while another man likely slept at her side.

Edward, you gave me…so much the other day, more than I ever expected; honestly, even more than I currently know what to do with all these days later. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful, but I'm beginning to see that healing my wounds might have a hidden cost, one which I never took into consideration. The price of dredging up my past to organize it into some form of working order appears to require the painful reopening of your old scars.

I hung my head and shook it from side to side. Pity. Sympathy. That's what Bella felt for me at three in the morning, and she felt it so acutely it kept her up. The confirmation of that was like a kick to the gut.

"Damn it, Bella," I murmured to myself. "Stop feeling sorry for me. I don't care. I don't care as long as I can be there for-"

When the cell phone vibrated yet again, my eyes flew back to the phone screen.

If you were awake, right about now you'd be getting ready to type back something along the lines of how you don't want- how you NEVER wanted my sympathy.

Chuckling ruefully at her correct assumption, I kept on reading.

Guess what? It's NOT sympathy or pity, Edward. It's a new entry – and a massively important one – in the database file labeled 'THAT DAY.' And I think it's only fair that I share the new entry with you. Ready? This is what the entry reads:

She sent that message, and as I anxiously stared at the three undulating bubbles, waiting for the 'entry,' my heart jackhammered in my chest.

File Label: That Day. Entry Number 5 – That Day did not occur in my own, personal vacuum. Other lives figured into That Day. Other pasts affected the probable eventuality of That Day. Other childhood, lingering injuries determined the reactions of participants beyond just me on That Day.

"Jesus, Bella." Swallowing thickly, I squeezed my eyes shut and instinctively reached up to rub the bump on the bridge of my nose. Despite everything, a wistful smile lifted one corner of my mouth. When the phone vibrated in my hands once more, I sighed and opened my eyes.

So, you see? This is why I needed you asleep for this. I know you too, Edward, and you would've immediately thought it was Sympathy. In fact, I'm beginning to see that I know you much better than I once allowed myself to believe I knew you, and perhaps…

She trailed off and sent the message, and I waited with bated breath to see if it would continue or if that was as much as she planned to say. Again, my thumbs locked stiffly over the keyboard, When I'd decided she was done texting, the circles appeared again, proving me wrong.

Perhaps that's one of the misconceptions on which I've built my current database, an error around which I've organized my current files. I don't know. There's still so much I don't know, Edward, but I know that it's like…

This time, the painful pause between her texts endured much longer, and still half-drunk, I had no patience at that time of night – or morning – to wait and see if she was done or not.

It's like what, Bella?

Instantly, I regretted hitting send, all the more so as the seconds wore on with no reply.

You're awake.

I drew in a massive lungful of air and typed my reply.

Yes, I am. It's like what, Bella?

Yet again, the seconds wore on.

It's like…

When she sent through that fractured elliptical phrase, letting me know that she was thinking through her words, I smiled. My beautiful wordsmith.

Okay. Ready? It's a metaphor.

I chuckled to myself as I quickly typed out my reply.

I'm always more than ready for your metaphors, even at three-thirty in the morning.

LOL.

It's like no matter how quickly I want to fix the database, regardless of the fact that almost all the data is there, I need that last piece of data to fix the error, to get it up and running again. It's like the system is stuck until that last piece has been inputted.

I thought about that for a moment, but I suppose it was a moment too long for Bella's patience.

Hello?

Again, I chuckled to myself in the darkness of my hotel room.

Hold on. I'm having my own 'It's like…' moment.

Oh. Okay. Lol. I'll wait.

So, I suppose it's like what's going on here. We've analyzed and tested most of the data, but without that final analysis, we can't move forward. Because if we skimp, if we cut corners, the entire project will end in disaster, and we'll have to begin all over again.

Yes, Edward! Yes! Exactly! You got it. You…always get what I mean.

Because I love you, Bella. THAT'S the last piece that's missing, the fact that I did all I did because I fell in love with you. And you can store it in your database, and hopefully, someday, you'll be able to look back on that knowledge fondly. Hopefully, you'll look back on US fondly, without the bitter memories attached to our short relationship. And you'll keep moving forward.

My finger hovered over the 'Send' button…

I've kept you up long enough. I'm sure you've got a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight, Edward. Sleep well.

I swallowed thickly and backspaced the entire message. Goodnight, Bella. Sleep well too.

OOOOO

The next morning, I stood outside of the sprawling, fall landscape of CDC headquarters. My head pounded from the night before: the drinking, the lack of sleep, the texting with Bella followed by the building hope that perhaps…maybe Emmett was right, and maybe I was wrong. And if there ever was a time in my life when I wanted to be wrong, it was then.

So, I called her because I needed to hear her voice, and I needed to see if maybe…maybe there was more there than I was allowing myself to see.

While the crisp fall breeze swept through my hair, and the phone rang on the other end of the line, I inhaled deeply, allowed the cool air to soothe my pounding head, my hammering heart.

"See you later, Mack! Hello?"

I froze. Bella's phone greeting had gotten mixed in with her morning farewell – her morning farewell to Mack.

"Hello? Edward?"

Deep, crushing fury and blinding jealousy closed off my throat, made the drilling in my head pick up triples-speed. I squeezed shut my eyes and dropped my head, shaking it from side to side. My own fucking fault for thinking for a moment Emmett might be right; for thinking for a second that a late-night, thank you text meant more than it did.

I cleared my throat and fought to keep my tone neutral. "Hey…Bella. Sorry. It sounds like I'm interrupting."

"No. I'm just heading to work. What's up?"

And as I made up a shitty excuse for the morning call, the evenness of my voice slowly gave in to growing bitterness so acute I ended my impromptu speech through clenched teeth.

"Uhm…I was just…just calling to confirm we're still on for our lunch date- excuse me," I seethed, "I mean meeting tomorrow. I apologize again if I interrupted anything, but I won't be back in New York until the early hours of the morning, and I wanted to double-check now rather than show up at the coffee shop and find you're not there because you realized you don't need a damn thing from me after all."

And despite the indignant outrage with which I'd spoken, as soon as I was done, I regretted it. I regretted the acrimony, and I dreaded what Bella's prolonged silence meant.

"Yes, Edward," she finally replied evenly. "We're still on unless something has come up for you. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, and I understand if you can't make it tomorrow. We can…" she paused, and I heard her swallow, "we can reschedule for another time, whenever is more convenient for you."

"Jesus. Bella…" I breathed, my head snapping up, while I glared at the beautiful dawning morning sun. "I'm so damn sorry. I don't want to reschedule."

"You want to completely cancel?" she choked.

"No. God, no."

"Then, I'm confused. You sound extremely frustrated, Edward."

"I am frustrated," I admitted hoarsely. "I'm frustrated, and I'm pissed off at myself, and I can barely see through the haze of…" I sighed. "But those are all my issues to deal with, not yours."

"Now I really don't understand."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "Honestly, I just called to hear…I just called to confirm for tomorrow. I didn't mean to act like a prick."

Again, she was quiet.

"Actually, I saw you on TV this morning," she said out of the blue. "You looked…as frustrated as you sound right now," she chuckled.

She was changing the subject, and I couldn't be more grateful.

"Those damn interviews," I said, fisting my hair. "I don't think they're going well at all. I don't seem to be getting the fact across that there will be two-"

"Two inoculations, not one. The initial flu vaccine and the upcoming booster. You're getting it across, Edward. Don't worry about that. It's just the particular journalist who looks like she wants…to play games."

I chuckled, though regret at my stupid outburst still ate at me. "Okay. Good. Bella, I really am sorry about my shitty attitude."

"I get it, Edward. You're under a lot of stress at work."

"It wasn't the work stress, Bella. I've lied to you enough-"

"Edward, stop."

"-and I'd be lying again if I allowed you to believe work stress caused my temper to flare just now." I drew in a deep breath and exhaled it loudly. "But like I said, that's my problem. It doesn't need to be yours. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"All right, Edward. I'll see you tomorrow."

And as I ended the call, I remained in my spot for a few minutes, shoving down my misplaced hope to the deepest recesses of my mind.

"Mack," I breathed to myself. "Mack, you'd better fucking love her and appreciate her for the rest of your damn days."

OOOOO

The next blustery, rainy autumn afternoon, I headed to the coffee shop to meet Bella.

It was the day; the one when I'd give her that final piece; the one which would fix the error in her database. And as I made my way into the shop and found her already at our table and smiling up at me, I forced myself to smile in return, but to see the day for what it was:

A final goodbye.

A/N: Thoughts?

Chapter Song Rec: When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars

Just a couple of things:

In case you guys haven't noticed (or read Break), Emmett sort of plays the part in this story which Rose plays in Break; he's Edward's best friend/counselor. :)

Also, I had a reviewer comment on how the title 'Break' reflects Bella's breakdown much like the title of this story, 'Broken' reflects Edward's broken heart. That is correct. :)

The same reviewer wanted me to get on with it. I appreciate the impatience, I really do. But if I moved the story along faster than I wanted to move it along, then it wouldn't be my story, and it wouldn't be fun to write, at which point, why would I be writing? :)

What's more, my time recently has become even more limited than it used to be. Writing these updates keeps me somewhat sane. I hope they give you guys some pleasure and a quick release from everyday stress as well. :)

All THAT being said, we ARE almost there. ;)

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"See" you guys soon.