Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
This time, she parked several blocks away from the clinic, almost immediately regretting the choice as she walked towards it. A few days into her bruises, she was feeling the worst of them, achy and sore in her midsection. Every breath and movement jiggled this tender flesh, and she both chastised and reminded herself of the much worse pain she'd endured there.
The usual suspects were visible from far away. She squinted, realizing she was looking for Edward.
She paused, just so she could berate herself. What did it matter if he was there? He didn't believe in abortions, and she did. It wasn't like they could be friends.
Why would you want to be friends? She asked herself. Some other, cheeky voice in her head answered for her: because he's handsome and kind . . . even if he is a freaking zealot.
She walked a bit further, pausing outside a coffee shop. He was easier to see now, as were the large letters on his sign. They read: 'Primum Non Nocere: Free Prenatal Care,' with a telephone number underneath. Sidling up against the shop's alcove, she pulled out her phone and typed in the name and number to a browser window. The search result led her to a page for a non-profit society. She skimmed through the content, reading about the free or at cost healthcare they provided. When she clicked the 'about' page, Edward's picture appeared at the top.
He was the president.
Huh.
Well, at least he put his money where his mouth was.
Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't been able to face the idea of food this morning, but her body was protesting the lack of nourishment. Sidling into the cafe, she ordered herself a coffee, and a muffin, and then, on a lark, ordered another coffee.
Outside, she realized she had a bit of a conundrum. She never approached a clinic without a hand free for her pepper spray.
Well, I'll just have to drop my coffee and go for it if I need to, she told herself. Or maybe Edward will run to my rescue. Again.
Or maybe nothing will happen.
Maybe.
She marched forward, ignoring her squirming worries.
Edward had noticed her. "Morning," he said, watching her approach.
"Morning." She held out one of the cups towards him.
He stared at it.
"For you," she said, "seeing as you wouldn't let me pay my bill."
"No charge for colleagues." A small and uneven grin spread over his face as he shook his head.
It made him look even more attractive.
She held out the coffee, but he still didn't take it.
Several of the people around him were exchanging looks, visibly disturbed by their interaction. A low and murmured conversation bubbled around them.
At least they're not calling me a baby killer today, she thought.
She'd already swept the crowd with her gaze, looking for the usual accosters. They weren't present. This group seemed more reserved.
"Here," she said again.
His green eyes held hers.
"It's not like it's poisoned."
This elicited an arched eyebrow. "Well, good," he said, taking the coffee and sipping it with a quiet, "Cheers." Putting down his sign, he looked towards the clinic. "Shall we?"
"You planning on joining me today?" she asked.
"Oh no, but it's my pleasure to walk you to the door—and make sure no one else does anything stupid or violent." The playful tone ended, and he frowned, eyes scanning her still-bruised face.
"Why do you stand out here?" She watched him survey the crowd.
He looked towards his sign. "Advertising."
She snorted. "Sure it is."
"It is. People have come because they've seen it here."
She kept the eye roll to herself. "And then you tell them why abortions are evil?"
"No."
She snorted.
"But I'm keeping you."
He wasn't really, but she was already late and not helping herself by standing there yapping with him. They walked towards the entranceway.
"Perhaps I can tell you about why I stand here, another time, when you aren't in a rush?"
"Sure, let's do a dinner date."
"Well, I'd love that," he said, tilting his head and grinning.
She almost dropped her coffee.
"Um—"
"But only if you want to."
She did. Against all her better judgment.
The "Okay" slipped out of her mouth before her better sense could stop it.
"And you can tell me why you go in there." He looked towards the security door, a few feet away from the glass one he was holding open. "Tonight?"
Bella nodded mutely.
"Well, you've got my number. Text me your address and I'll pick you up at six." That lopsided grin appeared. He leaned in close. "Make sure you pack your swimsuit."
Then he was gone, the door swinging closed.
- 0 -
Pack your swimsuit? She thought. Where were they going? Standing in front of the mirror, she was deciding between a modest navy one piece and a set of shorts and rash guard.
Yes, her snarky mind supplied, Where are you going with the freak who protests at the clinic where you work? Smart moves, Swan. Real savvy.
The inner commentary was moot. Despite several moments of doubt, she'd texted Edward her address.
It'll be different this time, she told herself. He knew who she was. Richard hadn't.
Not exactly suppressing her memories of Richard, but definitely shying away from them, Bella returned her attention to her wardrobe. Shorts and shirt, she decided. More practical if they were outside. But swimming outdoors? It was pretty early for that, despite it being June. Still, there were several lakes in the area. Perhaps one of them was warm enough? She hoped so.
His car rumbled up to her apartment. Peeking through the window blinds, she caught sight of him climbing out of a sports car.
This elicited a well earned eye roll. Perhaps her initial assessment was right. Just another egotistical doctor.
When he arrived at her door, the red and white tulips he carried were distorted by the fish-eye lens she peered through. He even had them in a vase.
She blinked, looking at them. Was this some kind of message he was sending?
"Do you not like flowers?" he asked, a little uncertainly, after she opened the door and stared at him.
"I do, I just wondered . . . if the colors were chosen for a particular reason?"
His eyes widened, "I just thought they looked pretty. Did I miss something?"
Slightly embarrassed on his behalf, she lowered her voice. "Well . . . different colors have different meanings. Red means true love, and white means forgiveness."
"I had no idea." He shook his head. "They're my mother's favorite. I just love how they open and reveal something of themselves that's even more beautiful."
Well, Bella thought. Maybe he's not all crazy-zealot-egotistical-doctor after all.
"Thank you, they're lovely. Tulips are actually my favorite flower, too." Looking around at her yet to be ordered apartment, she asked, "Do you want to come in for a minute?" She put the vase on her small table, hoping he had a high tolerance for mess. Her collection of boxes was only feebly diminished from when she'd last spoken with Charlie.
"Haven't unpacked yet?" he asked.
"No, I've been busy with work," she said from the bathroom, grabbing her towel and chosen swimsuit. Stuffing these into a bag, she asked, "Where're we going?"
"Lake Samish."
"Where on the lake?" She had her phone out, looking it up.
"North side, near the picnic area."
She texted the information to Charlie, telling him she'd call him later. It was their protocol for when she went on a date. If she didn't come home, he had what he needed to go after the likely suspect. She'd already sent him Edward's name and information.
Edward said nothing, watching her type this in. She didn't bother hiding what she was doing.
"Ready?" he asked, an arm out in the direction of the door.
"Yes."
At his car, she lifted an eyebrow. "Looks . . . expensive."
He smirked. "It is. Completely ostentatious, unnecessary, and likely egotistical. I've heard it all before."
"You like cars, then."
"I do. It's my one indulgence."
"Just one?"
"Just one," he said, shifting the car into gear, reversing in a smooth movement and then accelerating with ease.
The drive took them along the highway, curving around the mountains that banked the city. This narrowed into a side road, which was surrounded by imposing firs. The sun disappeared, shadowed by their height. When it sparkled again, it was over the water, blinding as it slipped towards the horizon.
"It's so beautiful," Bella breathed.
"It is," Edward agreed, smiling at her. "Come on." He sounded excited. Like a kid about to show her something he liked. He pulled a large box and blanket from the trunk of his car.
"Can I help you carry something?" she asked.
"No, I'm good, but thanks." He'd stripped off his jacket, and the well fitted shirt showed off his equally well developed musculature. She'd never enjoyed a refresher of Grey's Anatomy's 'Articulations of the Vertebral Column' quite so much. His back was a splendid flowering of sinew and flesh, topped by a head of hair that competed for the sun's show over the water.
"Isn't the park closed?" she asked. The sign at the entrance said as much.
He grinned knowingly. "It is, but the park wardens said I was welcome anytime, so long as I let them know I was here."
"And what garnered you that favor?"
"Can't say," he offered with a shrug and kept walking.
She let her question go.
Then rounded the path, where a pristine sand beach sat empty. The shoreline was still, the occasional, lazy lick of water creeping over the sand.
"It's gorgeous," Bella whispered, genuinely impressed by the vista before them.
"It is," Edward agreed. "And peaceful right now. Not so much in the summer."
They'd passed a few houses on the drive in, most of these tucked behind trees either over or below the road. She wondered just how alone they were here. Peeking at her phone, she saw they were out of cell service. If things got weird, she could at least walk to a house and ask to use a landline.
He snapped the blanket out over the sand, unpacking things from the box. By the time everything was sitting on the lid, it resembled a small buffet.
"Wow. Did you make all this?"
"No," he chuckled. "There's a rather amazing deli not far from my practice. I do cook, though," he added. "I would've liked to, but I didn't have time today."
He would have liked to cook. Huh. She tucked her observation away for rumination later.
"So," she started, snatching grape from a bowl. "What propelled you to spend your Saturdays picketing an abortion clinic?"
"You don't pull punches, do you?" he asked, chewing on an olive. Sitting back on the blanket, he cocked his head to the side. "My adoptive parents convinced my birth mother not to abort me."
"Wow," Bella said, the thought and word synonymous.
"You could say that." He smiled a little, but it was tinged with something, and Bella waited for more. "My siblings and I are all adopted. We were all unwanted, in one way or another. My parents are very devout. They believe in not just preventing harm, but supporting life. It seemed fitting to continue their work in my own way."
"Hence your organization," Bella observed.
"Ah, you've looked me up." He quirked an eyebrow, looking at her.
Her blush was slight, and she blurted out her question. "What does it mean? Primum Non Nocere?" She supposed she could've looked it up but wanted to hear it from him.
"Do no harm."
Of course.
"A lot of people think it's the first part of our oath," he said.
Our oath. It pleased her to think that they shared this.
"They do, don't they," she agreed, musing over the sentiment. The truth was that her work left her dealing with undoing the harm already done. Sometimes that meant more harm in the short term. If it lessened the long-term damage, then it was worthwhile.
"I was fortunate in my material circumstances. It seemed fitting to offer what I'd been given: a life. A chance. If I can."
"What does your organization do?" She was curious now.
"We offer healthcare and counseling. We try to coordinate with other agencies to provide more general support—housing, food, work."
"As long as they don't have an abortion."
"It's a service for pregnant women." He shrugged.
She decided to avoid the sticky topic for now, picking up a stuffed pepper. It was delicious. "Wow, you weren't kidding. Those are amazing."
"Try the dip," he encouraged, pointing to another container.
They nibbled for a bit, commenting on the food. Admiring the view. All safe territory.
"Can I ask about your names?" she finally ventured. "Why you have one on your degrees, but use another in practise?"
He chuckled a little. "My rebellious phase came late in life."
"Oh?"
"My parents—my adoptive ones—are very loving, kind, and . . . very devout people."
"You're not?"
"No, which is a great disappointment to them." He said this softly, almost like it disappointed him too.
Bella made a sympathetic, "Hmm."
"I was pretty straight-laced when I went off to college, but I didn't stay that way for long. I pushed all the boundaries I'd kept until that point. Or, that I felt like I'd been brainwashed to keep."
"That's a strong word for it."
"There were some pretty strong feelings and some pretty stupid choices to go with them."
Bella wondered exactly what that meant. She'd never had a rebellious phase. Her mother had always joked that her one child had been born middle-aged. Of course, Bella had always felt like she needed to be responsible. That hadn't always worked out well for her.
"Anyway, part of that phase was going looking for what I told my parents was my 'real' mother." He paused, looking at Bella, who tried—not successfully—to keep the horrified look off of her face. "Yeah, I was that much of an ass."
She cringed, imagining.
"She's forgiven me for that, but I haven't yet. She worked very hard to not let me see how much it hurt her, but even I could see it then. I did find my biological mother's information, but she'd died several years beforehand, without any other children or family. When I went looking for the rest of the family, I found that the estate had been looking for me. She'd left an inheritance, which is where the money for the organization came from."
Bella wasn't sure what to say, so she leaned forward. "What made you come back to your family?"
"I didn't really leave them, more like I just didn't stay in touch," he said. "Just since I finished my training. It was um, the experience of performing procedures like you do, that haunted me. Truthfully, it drove me back to them."
"Oh," she said, looking at him in a whole new light. No, it wasn't for everyone. She'd seen that early on. "Was that a field of practise you went in to?" she asked tentatively.
"No, just during residency, but I elected to do more than I needed to, trying to prove to myself that it didn't mean anything. I very much proved the opposite to myself."
"It isn't for everyone," Bella said gently.
He met her eyes before he spoke next. "No, taking a life isn't."
Her breath hissed in, and she allowed herself a moment to process what he'd just said.
"It's not killing people, Edward."
His eyebrows lifted. "What do you think it is, then?"
"It's the eradication of a glob of cells, most of the time." She watched him flinch at her choice of words.
"That 'glob of cells' is a life. It might not be fully formed, but it's a life."
"So's any bacteria. No one seems to mind the antibiotics I prescribe for those."
"I'd hardly liken an embryo to a disease," Edward said.
"No, you'd like women to incubators," Bella spat back, letting her voice rise.
"That is not what I said."
"No, it's what you think. It would make you look bad to say it aloud."
"You think this is about my ego?" Edward asked. He was sitting completely upright now, as was Bella, both of them bristling with defensiveness.
"I think any man who criminalizes a woman's autonomy over her body is totally preoccupied with his ego, his power, and his privilege."
He practically spluttered. "You end lives—sometimes for the sake of convenience—and I'm the one on the moral low ground?"
"Right," she said, brushing off her legs. "Thanks for confirming my suspicions: I'm an idiot, and you're a judgemental jerk with the insight of the average dog." She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, beginning to walk away.
How stupid did you have to be? She asked herself. This stupid. This fucking stupid, that you thought an anti-abortion activist would have an ounce of understanding.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Bella, wait!" Edward called, coming up behind her.
"No. I'll call a cab."
"There's no cell service here."
"I'll walk to someone's house and ask to use their phone."
"Most of these places are summer cabins, and there won't be anyone there."
"Then I'll keep walking," she gritted out.
"Please let me drive you, Bella, and at least apologize for being so insensitive."
"Insensitive?" she asked, spinning around. "You're not insensitive, you're a patriarchal bigot with guilt issues who thinks that dressing up charity as justice somehow absolves you from your misogyny."
It was his turn to hiss in a breath, and God help her, she waited to hear him speak. "It's taking a life, whether or not you want to admit it." He clenched his jaw, shaking his head, obviously trying to find words. "I thought you were different, Bella. It's abhorrent to take a child's life—"
She snorted, half turning away, but finding herself compelled to stay—for what?
Because of Richard.
It was probably the worst thing to think of in the moment.
"But I also know that some deaths are a mercy, and that with all our tools, we've been given the power to play God, for right or wrong. I don't know in every case. I thought you'd know that you at least walk one side of the line more than the other. Do you really see what you do so clinically?"
She jabbed her thumb at herself, "I make sure women have a choice. I make sure women aren't put in the situation where a pregnancy could kill, maim, impoverish, or fatally ostracize them. I do it because doctors like you are too chicken to!"
Pivoting on her foot, she turned with finality. But when she moved to step forward, the lip of her sandal hooked on a tree root, and she fell, feeling it twist painfully. She groaned into the packed dirt path, her face livid with anger and then shame. Could she not even storm off without making a fool of herself?
Starting to stand, Bella felt a painful twinge in her ankle, trying not to let it show, but failing.
"Just hold on," Edward said, coming close.
She wanted to say she was fine, to tell him to go away, or to crawl off into the bushes and pretend he hadn't seen her fall almost flat on her face.
And if you look humiliation up in the dictionary, kids, you'll find a picture of one dumb-ass Bella Swan.
"I think you twisted your ankle."
No shit. And to think, they gave you a medical degree. "Quite likely," she gritted out, watching the offending joint swell.
He rubbed his hand through his hair. "What would you like to do?"
"Go home."
"Okay," he said. "Can I help you to the car?"
"Sure." She kept her eyes down. She didn't think her voice could get any smaller.
His arm wrapped around her, they began a lurching stumble towards the parking lot. After a few new near spills, Edward paused, looking sideways at her. He seemed nervous. "Um, Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"You're not very steady on your feet right now."
"No."
"I think it might be safer if I just picked you up."
She closed her eyes momentarily. There were so many scenarios she'd imagined over the years, where a handsome man literally swept her off her feet. None of them had involved the circumstances she found herself in now.
"Okay." It sounded as pained as it felt to utter it.
The walk was short, and despite carrying her, Edward wasn't out of breath.
"Thank you," she said when he put her down. She still didn't meet his gaze.
"You're welcome. If you push the seat back, you can put your foot up on the dash." He pointed to the lever under the seat. "I'm going to go pack up. I'll be back in a few minutes."
She nodded, eyes down, only daring to look when he walked away.
When he returned, her embarrassed blush did too.
The ride back to town was a silent one. They didn't head to her apartment, but instead stopped in front of his practice.
"Why—?"
"I'm just going to get you some crutches. You'll definitely need them for tonight and maybe tomorrow. I've got a few inside." He didn't wait for her answer, but disappeared inside, returning with them and putting them in the trunk.
At her apartment, he helped her, on crutches, to her door. Opening it, she caught sight of the tulips he'd brought. She blurted out, "Would your mother like them?"
"Pardon?"
"The tulips," she said, jerking her head towards them.
The neutral expression on his face fell, but he quickly resurrected it. "No, I brought her some the other day." He stared at the flowers and then the floor. "I'm sorry to have offended you and ruined your evening." He moved away towards the door. "Good night."
Then he was gone, and Bella was left to her disappointment, a set of crutches, and the flowers from a man who thought she was a murderer.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.