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A/N:

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

Also thanks to Twilightzoner, my Twilighted beta extraordinaire, and angelvamp, who's been beta-ing in RL and also made my banner on . I'm buying both of you a pizza.

And to everyone who has voted for this story at the Indie Twific Awards. Was that you? Was it? Are you sure? Here's the URL, just in case.

/ Look for it in Best Alternate Universe WIP and Most Original Story Line WIP.

Thanks!!! It would mean ever so much to me :)

Ok, on to the show!

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Edward found a bag of frozen corn in the freezer, but had to search all three bathrooms in the house for disinfectant and bandages. These were upstairs in a drawer under the sink next to a small black leather case, something one would expect to find a manicure set inside of. He grabbed it as well, thinking that scissors might be useful if he needed to cut the gauze to size.

After rushing back into the house, he had laid Bella down on the futon, then went in search of first aid supplies. Now, he decided to unfold the frame to give her more room to lie comfortably. She was still unconscious and did not stir as he set her onto the floor. He sought to avoid touching her head, knowing that it was still bleeding, but her tousled hair brushed against his forearm when he picked her back up, leaving behind a feathery crimson stain. The futon frame creaked under its load as he emptied his arms none too gently, and Bella groaned faintly, but he was already at the kitchen sink, scrubbing her blood off his skin.

Dressing the wound proved quite challenging. Nevermind the blood or the sudden discomfort he felt at touching this woman without her knowledge (she was barely even dressed!), but her hair kept getting in the way as he tried to clean and bandage the cut. He'd lifted her head and shoulders onto his lap, and ended up pouring half the bottle of peroxide over himself before enough of the fluid landed on the wound itself. Oddly enough, as the white foam began to bubble on her skin and hair, it seemed to alter the scent of the blood, masking its most intoxicating components. The effect was quite welcome but proved temporary, and as the reaction between blood and peroxide ran its course, he hurried to splash more disinfectant on her head while fumbling for the bandages.

Here he encountered an even bigger problem because the medical tape he had intended to secure the gauze with would not stick to her hair. He tore off one piece, then two, even tried to wrap an entire strip around the perimeter of her head, but it would not hold the pads of gauze in place with sufficient pressure. Frustrated, he pulled the tape off with a jerk and earned a whimper for his impatience. Bella stirred in his lap, then moaned as she dragged her head away from him, rubbing raw skin against the coarse fabric of his pants.

He had to hurry and put some distance between them. She was waking up, and would not take kindly to this arrangement. He needed some cloth or ribbon tie around her head, but what? A dishtowel would work, but there weren't any when he had tried to dry his hands earlier. There might have been something more suitable upstairs, but Bella was shifting constantly now, her complaints becoming louder and more strained.

Well, there was one thing he could use. He moved her back onto the mattress, pulled off his t-shirt and reached for the black leather case. Expecting to find scissors, he was perplexed to see that it held only razor blades. There were about half a dozen, some shiny and new, others dull and water-stained. Frowning, he lifted the case up to his face and sniffed, confirming his suspicion immediately. The razors smelled of blood and peroxide, and he had no doubt of their purpose. For some reason, the discovery was upsetting , so he zipped the case shut and tossed it to the floor. Fingering the hem of his shirt, he tore off a strip that came out less even than he would have liked, but would do the job well enough.

He then took several pieces of gauze and taped the edges to the fabric with medical tape. Taking full advantage of his superhuman speed, he wrapped the whole thing around Bella's head in less than a second, taking care to cover the cut with gauze completely. She had quieted down, but now grimaced again as he tied the two ends of the fabric together at her forehead. Having dressed the wound, he slid the bag of frozen corn under her head and stepped away, hoping it did not make too uncomfortable of a pillow for now. She flinched against the cold but did not wake.

He settled on the floor in a corner of the room. He would stay here for a while to make sure that she was all right, that the cut stopped bleeding and clotted properly. That is, if she didn't wake up and throw him out of her house.

* * *
Bella stirred. Something was pulling her out of sleep, and not going about it very gently. Her limbs felt hot and heavy, but her head was cold, like it had been ducked in a bucket of ice water. And it hurt, it hurt like a motherfucker. The dull buzz was getting worse, solidifying into a pulsing, throbbing, stabbing pain that spread like spider webs along her skull.

She sucked in a sharp breath and opened her eyes. She saw darkness, and for a moment, had no idea where she was. Panicking, she tried to sit up, but that proved to be a mistake. The dark exploded into white and red flashes of pain, and her head hit the mattress before she even had time to realize that sitting up was, in fact, a terrible idea.
Jesus Christ, what happened? She hadn't had much to drink the night before, just a few glasses of wine. This couldn't be a hangover - not even hell got this hung over. Slowly, she lifted an arm up to her head and began to probe for an explanation. Something was tied at her forehead like a bandanna, and she followed the cloth around to the back of her skull. Her fingers encountered a wet, cold bag between her head and the mattress, and she grabbed at it, intending to pull it away.

"I wouldn't move that if I were you," someone said quietly, and there was a flicker of movement against the far wall.

She recognized the voice. It was Edward. And they were both in her house. Why was he in her house?

Edward... vampire... her house. Suddenly, the events of the previous evening slammed into place, and the same fear she'd felt hours before ignited every muscle in her body. Again, she tried to pull herself up, grinding her teeth against the vice-like pain that shot through her skull.

"Don't do that!" he said quickly. "You'll only make it worse. I'm not going to hurt you. Lie back down."

She wanted to believe him. There was something soft and calming about his voice. But she had seen the consequences of that trust – the image of him hunched over that poor woman had barely left her thoughts since then. Gritting her teeth, she shifted up another few inches, one arm supporting her chest, the other gripping the mattress.

"Bella, please!" he said again with some frustration. "If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. I've been here for the last three hours making sure you wouldn't bleed all over the furniture. You are about undo all of my efforts." When she still didn't move, he added, "I am just going to sit here. I won't move an inch toward you if you'd like. Please, just lie down."

She'd been holding her breath against the pain, and now her lungs were beginning to burn. She knew that even if she managed to stand, she wouldn't make it past the threshold. And to be fair – she was still alive. Slowly, cautiously, she let herself sink back onto the futon.

"What's under my head?"

"An ice pack. Frozen vegetables, actually. I couldn't find any ice in your freezer."

"And around my forehead?"

"My shirt."

"Your what?"

"I needed to make a bandage to stop the bleeding. Nothing else would hold." This he said matter-of-factly, almost defensively.

Bella didn't say anything. She was confused. They sat in the dark for a long moment, then she drew another ragged breath, pressing the heel of one hand against her temple. "How bad is it?" she asked, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It isn't trivial. The cut itself is nearly two inches long, and it is likely that you also suffered a concussion."

She didn't reply. The effort of getting up had made her nauseous, and now she concentrated on the rise and fall of her chest, breathing deeply to try and calm her stomach.

"Do you want some water?" he asked.

"No," she muttered. Then, "Yes."

He put something on the floor and stood up. She watched him warily, stiffening as he approached. He stopped and took two steps to the side, further away from her feet. "Bella, I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated softly, as if trying to convince a child.

She blinked at him, and he walked past. She heard him rummaging about in the kitchen, probably looking for the glasses. "Above the microwave," she tried to say, but her throat was so dry that it came out as a half-croak, half-whisper. He seemed to have heard her anyway and immediately opened another cabinet.

"Do you need something to eat?" his voice floated back from the kitchen.

"No," she whispered again. She heard him run the sink, and willed herself to remain calm as he walked back into the room. He handed the glass to her wordlessly, then stepped back toward the wall where he had been sitting. Lowering himself to the floor, he reached into a pocket, then hesitated.

"I assume you don't mind if I smoke?" he asked.

She sniffed the air, caught the traces of smoke already infusing the room. "You're worse than I am," she muttered.

"For entirely different reasons, I assure you," he answered, but did not elaborate.

He had been sitting in the far corner, his form entirely obscured by darkness. When the cigarette flared to life, it cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the bone structure: A strong jaw tapering at a square chin, high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, which looked much less hollow than when she had last seen him. He seemed to have filled out a little, gained a bit more roundness to his features. His skin was smooth, no trace of a beard, and, along with these softened lines, gave him a more youthful appearance. Whereas she would have guessed him to be in his mid thirties when she first met him, he now looked barely old enough to drink. His mouth was firm and his brow slightly furrowed, but there was something almost... gentle... to his expression. The unruly hair that hung from his forehead concealed his eyes, though she was sure that he was watching her.

She dropped her gaze and concentrated on drinking the water. Her head felt like lead, and she dreaded the idea of sitting up. Lowering the glass over the edge of the couch, she moved her face sideways toward the rim.

"Do you want help?" he asked, but she ignored him, clenching her jaw against the pain. She managed a few shaky sips, thought more liquid ended up on the floor than in her mouth. Still, the cold water soothed her throat, and after a moment her stomach seemed to calm a little, as well. She set the glass onto the floor, but kept her face turned toward the vampire in the corner.

"Why are you here?"

"I came to talk to you," he said simply. "Then you woke up and ran away. I felt somewhat responsible for your injuries, so I stayed help you recover."

"Somewhat responsible? You snuck into my house, scared the shit out of me, then dropped me down the stairs!" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them; now was not the time to be a smart ass. She thought back to the woman in the alley and blinked furiously to clear the images from her mind.

"Yes," he was saying. "I did all of that, and I am sorry. I should not have entered uninvited."

The apology was unexpected. She wrinkled her brow. "How did you do that, anyway? I though you – uh...vampires," --she had to force the word out-- "couldn't come in uninvited."

He snorted. "That is patently false. An absurd idea, really. I imagine that most of the time a vampire enters a home, it is without invitation."

"You imagine? Don't you know?"

"No, I don't. My kind are not very social. I haven't had the opportunity to interview anyone about their visitation habits."

Was he mocking her? "Well, I'm sorry for being so ignorant about you and your kind," she muttered.

"You aren't anymore."

There was a long pause during which Bella searched furiously for something to say, but came up empty. It was Edward who spoke next. "There is something we need to discuss. Obviously, you are now aware of my true nature, and I do not deny your suspicions. You are mistaken about one thing, however. I did not come into your house to harm you. This has never been my intention."

"I don't believe you," she whispered.

"Fine. That is your choice. But consider that I have spent the last three hours continuously in your presence, and have done nothing but care for your injuries. If I had wanted to kill you, would this not have been the perfect time?"

"Maybe you're not very… hungry." Again the words felt stuck in her throat; she tried to take another sip of water, but the glass trembled in her hand. She set it back down, but couldn't take her eyes off of the water's rippling surface.

"You've been bleeding from the head for over one of the three hours that I have been here," he informed her. "I wouldn't need to be hungry to find that tempting. The fact that you are still alive is the greatest testament to my sincerity."

She looked up at him, confused and alarmed. "What?"

He sighed. "You don't appreciate, likely can't appreciate, the effort and willpower that is required of me to stay in this room with you while your blood seeps out of your body and into a piece of fabric ten feet away." He shook his head and swept the hair off his brow with a motion so quick that she barely saw his hand move. His eyes flashed in the darkness. "In fact, I wasn't able to, not for the entire time."

She blanched at his words, and her heart skipped a beat. "You mean you...drank from me?" she whispered, holding her breath.

"What? No! Don't be absurd," he snapped back. "If I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation. No, I left the room. Several times, in fact. Oh, and" --he picked something up off the floor-- "I found this book to read in one of the rooms upstairs. I'll put it back later."

She exhaled slowly and turned her head back to stare at the ceiling. The absurdity of the situation hit her with full force, and she rubbed her temple again. The vampire hitman had spent the night playing nursemaid and catching up on his reading.

"As a matter of fact," he went on, "I am finding it quite interesting. I have to confess, I never put any stock in the various metaphysical justifications of moral behavior. This," he waved the book at her, "suggests a much more satisfying explanation."

She didn't know what book he was talking about, and didn't care. "Look, why are you still here? If it's so damn difficult to resist, why haven't you killed me?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Jesus, did she really just ask him that?

"Because I don't. It isn't merely a question of physical desire."

"I don't understand. What does that even mean?"

"It means that life isn't nearly as simple as you'd like to believe." His tone was cold, distant.

She huffed and closed eyes. "Look, you have to give me a little more than that to go on. You keep acting like I should trust you, but I don't even know what you're talking about." And I watched you kill someone.

Edward didn't reply for a long time, just sat there and smoked. "I need to eat," he said finally. "My diet has specific constraints that are beyond my control. I could try to avoid feeding on humans, and I have, but complete abstinence is not sustainable. I have spent years analyzing, even agonizing over this problem. My solution is imperfect, but it is probably the most just."

A dead silence hung between them. "What solution?" Bella asked quietly.

"My needs are ultimately selfish, benefiting no one but myself. Thus, I only take the lives of those who act in kind, who kill other people for some personal profit."

"Like other hitmen?"

"That is one option, but they are not so easy to find. The benefit of my current profession is that potential candidates do the work of identifying themselves for me."

Current profession? "What did you do before?"

"I was not so -" here he paused and have her a sideways glance, "- discerning."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. "So you'd kill anybody."

"Yes."

"Random people on the street."

"Yes."

"Then you don't really care about justice."

"I do now. As I just said, I only -"

"I heard you," she cut him off. "But that's not what you should be doing."

His eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh?" he prompted, the cigarette in his mouth twitching.

"You're saying it's fair to kill killers, right? That it's just?"

He nodded.

She closed her eyes. "Then you should look in the mirror."

Silence. Her head throbbed.

Then he said, "You are very clever," but his voice held no praise, only bitterness. "You're asking me why I don't commit suicide. Why I don't just rid myself and society of this problem, right? Right?"

"Yes," she breathed out. The shift in his tone sent shivers down her spine.

"I can't. I am not a man, I am a vampire. I can't make the same choices as you."

"What happens when you try?" she blurted out.

Here he looked away and shook his head. "You don't understand. Look, everything you do – almost everything you do – is a conscious choice, made rationally, where your mind weighs the consequences and selects a course of action having taken all of your desires into consideration. Even when you behave irrationally, you are the active agent, and given enough willpower, could carry out even the most difficult or unpleasant actions. War is a perfect example – men and women willingly forfeit their lives for the sake of some greater metaphysical principle. You understand?"

She nodded.

"I cannot behave like that. My rational mind is only second to my instincts. I have worked harder than you can imagine to rectify that balance, but mastery over my most primitive urges has proven impossible. No matter how miserable the constraints of this life make me, I cannot relieve myself of them. Survival will trump sentiment every time."

She stopped trying to filter her curiosity. "Is that how it is for the others like you?"

"I don't know. As I said, I don't socialize with other vampires. My strong suspicion is that there aren't very many of us at all, and that most have done a better job of remaining hidden than I. Furthermore, I believe that I am somewhat unique in my ethical struggles. From the information I have managed to collect, other attacks seem fairly random in timing, location, and type of victim. And there are virtually no other reports of attacks on non-human animals. I could be mistaken of course, but I suspect that if there were other vampires like me, those who have also become ambivalent about their nature, it would have become obvious by now."

He was being cryptic again, but she didn't dare press him for an explanation. "How long have you been so... ambivalent?" she asked instead.

"Nearly one decade," he replied.

Bella didn't say anything else for a long moment, trying to get a handle on everything he was telling her. "So, what about that woman, the one from Wednesday night?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray the dread swirling around in the pit of her stomach.

"Lilian Schwartz. Senior Consultant at Accenture. What about her?" He wasn't making this any easier.

"Why her?"

"Leonard Schwartz. Associate Professor of Biochemistry at DePaul University. Excessive life insurance policy, which his ex-wife remains the beneficiary of. He was struck and killed by a car last weekend at the corner of East Elm and Division. As you may have overheard, it was no accident." His voice was steady and cold. He took another long drag from his cigarette, flicking ash onto the floor.

"She had him killed for the life insurance policy? That's so -"

"Cliche?" he offered.

"Fucked up! Disgusting and fucked up."

He shrugged. "Perhaps now you can understand my lack of remorse."

She still wasn't sure if she understood anything. She took a deep breath, suddenly wishing that she could just go back to sleep and deal with all of this later.

"You, however," he went on, "have nothing to fear from me. I am convinced that what you told me about your sister is the truth, and your request is only fair. When everything is said and done, you will remain the most innocent party in all of this."

Before she could reply, he said suddenly "That reminds me. I came here last night to tell you that James Pelzer has left the country. He is in Mexico, and it isn't clear how long he will remain there. While I could kill the other man first, I believe it would be best to wait until they are both back in Chicago. If they die in a mugging or a house fire, it seems far less suspicious than if the death of one here is followed by the death of another in Mexico. But, as I said, I don't know when that can happen, so it is likely that you will have to wait longer than I initially told you."

She turned back to look at him and blinked several times. "That's all you came to tell me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. I decided it was important for you to know." It could have been her imagination, but he sounded apologetic.

"Important," she repeated. "Okay, now I know."

The shaft of his cigarette had burned down to the filter, and he stuffed it out on the tip of one shoe.

"Hey, how come you smoke, anyway?" she asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." she hesitated, out of embarrassment rather than fear. "I mean, I don't know how any of this works but... From everything I've been reading, you're supposed to be – uh – well, breathing isn't something you - "

"You're asking whether or not I am the walking undead?" Edward asked with a hint of mirth.

"Uh... yeah."

He made a sound, and she thought he was clearing his throat until he spoke again, laughter coloring his voice. "No, as far as I can tell, I am just as alive as you. I smoke because it is useful for blocking out other odors. That is why I began, though I have to confess, I am also addicted to nicotine at this point."

"Huh. That's why you've been smoking so much tonight... because of my..."

"Blood, yes."

She nodded absently and slowly took another sip of water. Her head was still pounding, and it was getting harder to think straight. She wanted to let all of this new information sink in before deciding what to make of it.

"You are tired," he observed, shifting. "I should go. I don't think my presence is necessary any longer. Just don't fall asleep on the ice pack."

"Okay," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"There is one more thing I want to say," he added, then hesitated.

She turned to him again. "Yeah?"

"I want to remind you that I have recorded our previous conversations and there is plenty of material to expose the nature of our agreement. I have told you quite a bit about myself today, and I did it with the intention of allaying any fears you may have regarding my intentions for you. However, if you choose to expose me in any way, I will not hesitate to do the same. Remember, in the eyes of society, you have hired a vampire to kill two innocent men, one of whom used to be a police officer. However I would suffer at the hands of the law, you would not fare much better. Thus, I urge you to consider your actions carefully."

She clenched her jaw, and not from pain this time. "Get out of my house."

"Bella, I am not trying to threaten you, but you need to understand-"

"I fucking heard you. Just– get out!"

He jerked to his feet and gave her a long look. She glared back defiantly.

"Fine," he said sharply, and swept out of the room.

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End Notes

Did ya like it? Did ya did ya did ya?? Please let me know, I absolutely love hearing back from you readers :)

Also, the next update will take a little longer because I'm thinking about rewriting chapters 1 and 2. It's something I've been wanting to do for a while, and I think I know how.

We've been nominated! Commission has been nominated for "Favorite Darkward" at the Bellie Awards (.), and "Best Alternate Universe, WIP" category at the Indie TwiFic Awards ().

With each award, Commission will only get on the ballot if it's one of the top 4 or 5 to be nominated in that category. So, if you like what you've read, please take a minute to nominate the story for either or both awards. (Or some other award, if you're so inclined :) )