Chapter Two, m'dears.

Thank you for being patient with me. I promise to never again take that long on another chapter, so long as you lovlies review for me. Here you are. 33

I gently stroked Bella's cheek, brushing a few tangles of her soft dark hair out of her face. She was warm with a fever. I looked over her frail body once more and said a silent prayer of gratitude that she had not been hurt badly. Carlisle had cleaned her up nicely; there would be no lasting damage. I brushed my fingers over the stitches on her forehead. I couldn't stop myself from holding her; I needed to be sure she was okay.

I looked up to find Carlisle standing idly in the doorway after realizing someone had come into my room. He watched me cradling belle against my chest with a pensive look, strained almost, as if deciding whether or not to say something. I had a good idea as to what he was interested in addressing. I slipped into his thoughts to be certain.

Of course I was right.

"I know she's drunk, Carlisle." I looked back to Bella. The painkillers were working nicely, she was very much asleep.

"… Or was," I added. The silence between us lingered momentarily.

"That's why you didn't want to bring her to the hospital?" he half stated his supposition.

I sighed and let my head fall back against the cool leather of the couch.

"I just… I didn't want to make a big deal about it," I was annoyed and tired. All I really wanted to do was take care of Bella, to hold her, pretend tonight didn't happen the way it did.

"If we admitted her, they'd have called Charlie."

Carlisle's gaze fell. He looked disappointed, as if this were the answer he was expecting, but hoping he wouldn't get. "Don't you think Charlie ought to know?" He eased his way into the subject with a soft tone.

"She was drinking Edward. She chose to drink and she chose to drive," His voice turned heavy as he pushed these facts into my head. He recognized my denial; he was only trying to break through it. I should have been nicer, but how could I? My mind was on one track, and that was to protect Bella.

Carlisle spoke right on cue, as if he were the one with the ability to see minds. "You think you're protecting her? Right now, maybe you are. But what happens next time, when she really hurts herself?"

I looked up and glared menacingly. "This isn't going to happen again," my voice was steady and calm, drawling from the back of my throat.

Carlisle shot me a disbelieving look His voice was hard and insisted he knew what he was talking about. "How can you say that Edward? How can you be sure?" I knew where he was coming from, I knew where he was going, and I saw his point. Everything he was saying, it was all right. I would have none of it. The idea that perhaps Bella wasn't as sweet and as innocent as I so willingly imagined her, well that hurt.

I merely shook my head.

Carlisle began again after a moment of silence. His voice was softer now. "She made a mistake. She made terrible a mistake, but that doesn't make her a different person. Bella will never stop being the intelligent and lovely girl she is, but she made a bad decision and that decision has consequences she needs to face." He wavered and I could sense the end of his 'do the right thing' speech. "It's up to you, son. Take care of her now, or take care of her when she's going to really need you."

After another powerful stare he smiled lightly and bid us goodnight. He turned and closed the door behind him as he left my room.

I watched the closed door for a minute after he was gone. I was doing my best to not let his words sink in.

Slowly I let my gaze fall to Bella. My eyes swept over her form. I studied her porcelain skin. Her eyes were closed, but I could imagine the perfectly clear blue persuasion that lay beneath her soft eyelids and thick, long lashes. She seemed so calm, so quiet. Inside I was screaming, tearing myself to shreds. What had I been thinking? Why was it so difficult for me to make the right choices? I was furious, simply furious with myself. I sighed in protesting agony. An internal feud raged inside of me until I decided that Carlisle was right. There was nothing I could do. Bella needed to face Charlie and whatever punishment was in store for her.

I rose swiftly, suddenly decided. My head was instantly clearer than it had been in weeks. I knew what I was to do. I felt my old sense of judgment returning and I welcomed it. I gathered Bella in my arms and ensured she was secure in my grasp before leaving my room.

I slipped into the cool night and silently pulled the front door closed. It wasn't very late, not past nine. I glanced over my shoulder up at our house. Two windows upstairs glowed warmly; Carlisle and Esme's room. I was sure they had heard me creep by their bedroom on my way out. I strode quickly to the driveway. When we got to the car I pulled open the passenger side door and gently lowered Bella into the Volvo, eager to get her out of the night's chilly mist. Her head rolled lazily onto her shoulder. I smiled half heartedly, gently pulling the seatbelt around her body and fastening it protectively.

"There you are sweetheart." I hesitated before kissing her softly on the forehead. I hoped she could forgive me for what I was about to do. I snapped her door shut and was already twisting the key into the ignition before the crack of the closing door echoed across the dark and quiet lawn. I revved the engine and pulled onto the road. The lights from my car spilled over the dark pavement as the tires twisted over the street like liquid.

As I drove away from the outskirts of Forks and closer to the part of town where Charlie's house was, I tried to mull over the dozen of ideas buzzing in my head. I had to bring her to Charlie. I had to tell him what had happened, and I had to let him take care of her. But why? Why couldn't I simply leave this to myself? I had no problem watching over her at all times. Never leaving Bella's side suited me perfectly well. But what about when I get angry, like I had tonight. Tonight. What had happened tonight? What was it that drove a deep schism between her and me?

My jealousy was a part of it, I admit. Okay, so my jealousy was a large part of it. But was that it? Could the number of problems we had faced these past few months all be rooted in my jealousy? Certainly there was more than that. Bella and I… we wanted different things. But why? It was the word that kept popping up all over my mind, again and again.

I snapped out of my trance when I looked around to realize I was parked in her driveway. This didn't surprise me. I've made the trip countless times, enough to make it with my eyes closed, which, I realized, I probably just had. I sighed, unwilling to pull myself from the car and face Charlie. I glanced across the front seat. Bella was still sleeping. Just as well, it'd be easier that way. I stared with resentment at the scars on her face and bruises on her body. A sudden flame of determination ignited inside of me. I wasn't going to let this happen again.

Second's later I stood beneath the almost blinding porch light, Bella laid across my arms. I held her easily, my arms curled around her back and under her knees. Her head rested unconsciously against my chest. I managed to knock twice on the heavy wooden door in front of us and then waited confidently.

Charlie's face appeared a short time later. His immediate reaction was to smile, but it faded as he took in what was before him. His face folded into immediate concern. Anger, confusion, accusation. I watched as his expression changed rapidly and the emotions poured over his features. He backed away, letting me slip into the house, wordlessly.

When words found him he began sputtering frantically and gushed over the cuts on Bella's face.

"W-what? Why is she… she isn't… is she?" He looked up from her, terror in his eyes. She must have been cold. I shook my head in assurance.

"Dead?" I finished for him, "No, no. She's okay… just sleeping," I trailed, momentarily loosing focus as I looked down at Bella. My relief, frustration, confusion came rushing back. I pushed aside my own emotions and looked back at Charlie. He was watching her too, unsure.

"Well what's this? Why is she bruised? Are those… stitches?" He spoke angrily, as if I had done this to her. I figured it best to just begin explaining. I sighed exasperatedly and looked around.

"Can I lay her somewhere?"

Charlie pursed his lips. He had grown to trust me a great deal, being around as much as I was. Clearly however, his faith in me was quickly faltering. He seemed to struggle for a moment, between demanding I tell him what had happened immediately or finding someplace to lay his daughter. He fixed a stare on me and replied grudgingly.

"In her room."

He climbed the narrow staircase and I followed close behind. He led me to her room as if I hadn't been there before. I made a mental note to make humor of its irony, some other time when I was lighter hearted. He went in before me, moving awkwardly through the dark. He found her desk (promptly by walking into it) and turned on the dim lamp to light my way. I laid Bella gently on her neatly made bed. The bed I had made, this morning while she was showering. Charlie, who merely thought she was learning to pick up after herself, held no suppositions that I spent every night in her room. She moaned softly and curled into a ball after I laid her down.

"Come on," Charlie urged from her bedroom door. Reluctantly I left Bella's side and stepped into the hallway, managing a last glimpse of her before he closed the door.

"So?" Anxiety braided into his icy tone as he looked at me expectantly. I turned towards the stairs and took a step or two.

"Let's sit downstairs." I wanted him comfortably far away from Bella when I gave my explanation- or the assorted fragments of truth I was going to call my explanation. His hand shot out and folded around my upper arm. I stopped, struggling with my urge to pry his fist off my body. I didn't like to be touched. Not unless Bella was doing the touching. I inhaled deeply and with effort, reminded myself that Charlie had every right to be upset. I had, after all, just dragged his only daughter back to his house, beaten and bruised.

"Here." There was finality and supremacy to his voice, as if making it very clear who was in control. I regained my control and turned to face him.

"Fine," I replied, snappy. I took one look at his face and saw his overwhelming concern for her. We shared that concern, and in response, I couldn't be angry.

"Bella crashed her truck." Well, sometimes being blunt was the only way to handle things. Charlie didn't want to fool around with guessing games and neither did I. I wanted this done with as soon as possible so I could bid him goodnight and climb into his daughter's room. "I wasn't with her," I added hastily, not wanting to give Charlie any reason to pin this on me. Sure, I believed that underneath everything it was ultimately my fault, but I didn't need to go about giving him reason to try and keep me from Bella.

I paused, expecting him to butt in with a series of questions. He merely looked at me, eyebrows raised, his face strangely unmoved by the information I had just provided. I gave him a funny look and continued.

"She was coming from a party and I was on my way there. I found her on the side of the road. When I pulled her from the truck I panicked. I did the only thing I could think of. I brought her to my dad. You know, Doctor Cullen, he works at Forks General Hospital..."

"I know your father, go on," he showed no sign of letting go of his malice, and I was getting annoyed. I held back my impulse to lash out defensively.

"My dad keeps tools at home, and seeing she wasn't hurt badly, he examined and cleaned her up there. Really, besides the bruising, the stitches are her only injury. The car's fine, but I left it where it was. It's a little bloody… but just needs a cleaning." I did my best to sound as close to a normal teenage boy as possible. A normal teenage boy who pulls his girlfriend from her crashed vehicle, takes her home to his doctor father and has her remedied? I suppose 'close to' are the key terms in that sentence. I let intimidation flash over my face, trying to give Charlie the empowerment that he usually lacked.

He said nothing, and nodded after a moment. Turning swiftly, he descended the stairs. I gazed longingly at Bella's closed bedroom door, but followed Charlie. When I got downstairs he was pulling back the tab on an aluminum can of beer. I grazed hesitantly into the kitchen. He drank in desperation before setting it on the faux granite counter top. He watched me carefully as I stood unmoving by the door.

"Why'd she crash?" His tone let on that he knew exactly what I was going to say. I could see the remainder of this conversation played out before I responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Bella was a good driver. She didn't just… crash." His eyes bore into mine. I let him believe he was browbeating me into confession.

"She was drinking." My words stung the air. Charlie nodded, vindicated. He lifted his head and put on that voice that most fathers have, specifically for dealing with their daughters' boyfriends.

"Thank you Edward. For bringing her to your dad and then home. For the truth." I could tell he was dissatisfied with my not bringing her to the hospital and decision to not call him, but he was beyond exhaustion and had no intentions on hindering me now. I nodded in confirmation and lingered. When he said nothing else I turned on my heel and fluidly passed down the hall. I stopped before opening the door and glanced up the staircase, listening for any indications that Bella might be awake. I could feel Charlie in the next room over, waiting to hear me leave. Careful to not alert his suspicion, I noisily pulled opened the door and stepped into the night.

The digital clock in my car read 10:14. I wasn't sure when we had gotten there, but I was certain the endeavor took no more than an hour. I sped restlessly through town, eager to drop off my car and return to Bella. At home I reluctantly paced my bedroom floor for an hour before running back to her house. I wanted to give Charlie plenty of time to retire to his room.

I dashed across their lawn, no more apparent than a shadow. The porch light was off. I circled the house quickly to ensure no lights were on. Satisfied with my external examination I returned to the front yard. I stood beneath her bedroom window and craned my head back, focusing on the window ledge, and prepared to climb through.

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