A/N: Here's the chapter that I know a lot of you have been waiting for. We get a peek into what exactly happened to Edward through a series of flashback in BPOV. So, grab some tissues, chocolate and something to snuggle...it's going to get a little rough. 2 more chapters after this one, so it looks like this fic will wrap up next week. Thanks to everyone who's still on board! xo

Big thanks & love to my own personal dream team: Char, Gin, Caren & Ash - they help make my words purdy and my ideas not suck so bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just come up with random things for them to do.

Bella

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"This is Northwest Hospital. We have you down as the emergency contact for an Edward Cullen. There's been an accident and he's been brought into the emergency room at Seattle General. We would appreciate if you could come in as soon as possible so his doctor can speak with you."

"..."

"Ma'am?"

"I..."

"Ma'am? Do you have anyone who can drive you over?"

"No. What? I can...I can come. I- I'm leaving right now."

"Report to the nurses desk at the ER. They'll be able to direct you to where you need to go."

oOoOoOoOoOo

"So, he's okay? He's going to make it, I mean?"

I brace myself for the doctor's response. Nobody has been able to give me a direct answer, and it's starting to eat away at me. If he were fine, they'd have told me by now. Why aren't they saying anything?

I force myself to look at Edward. It's not him. That's not the man I married, lying in that bed, hooked up to hundreds of wires with deep, dark bruises covering his body. My husband doesn't have a blood stained bandage covering his head. My husband doesn't have a broken leg or and arm hooked up in some sort of sling.

My husband has bright green eyes and calls me "his girl." He plays me songs he's written about me, just because. My husband is able to squeeze my hand back when I squeeze his.

"He...he's going to regain full motor function, Mrs. Cullen."

"Huh?"

I'm broken out of my thoughts by the man in a white lab coat, who is standing at the foot of the bed. I don't even bother remembering his name. It will be somebody else tomorrow, so why bother? The only ones I know are the nurses. The handful of sweet men and women that rotate through on a daily basis. They've been my constants through this. But they can't give me any answers.

"So, his body will heal?" I ask, making sure I understand correctly.

"Yes."

Perfunctory, one word answers seem to be a favorite of most of the doctors. Why they won't elaborate with me is a mystery. I feel like there's something missing, and I wish somebody would just tell me.

"So, when will he wake up?"

The questions hangs there between us, the silence more than just uncomfortable. It's downright depressing. I can feel the weight of it press down against my chest, heavier and heavier with each passing second. The doctor flips through the chart in his hands and clears his throat.

"We actually have a neurologist coming in later today. He'll be able to explain things better."

And then, he's gone, giving me no hope that Edward will wake up any time soon.

oOoOoOoOoOo

My hand feels pressure before I notice that his eyes are open.

"Edward!" I can't help shouting. It's been almost a week, and I've been feeling a little hopeless.

"Where...where am I?" he asks, his voice rough and weak.

"You're in the hospital. You were in an accident. But you're okay now. You're going to be okay," I say, trying to reassure both of us.

I call out for a nurse because I'm sure they're going to need to check him out. In the meantime, I can't seem to let go of his hand. I give it an extra squeeze, giddy as fuck when he squeezes back. His lips curl into smile as he looks me over.

"Th-thank you. But, who...who are you?"

oOoOoOoOoOo

The words swirl around in my head, and I'm unable to make sense of them all.

Traumatic brain injury.

Anterograde amnesia.

Retrograde amnesia.

Protective mechanisms.

"Do you understand, Mrs. Cullen?"

I look up to the kind face of the neurologist. The poor man just spent almost an hour trying to explain to me what is going on. I've been listening and absorbing the information, but I have no desire to understand any of it.

Understanding makes it real.

"I...I think so. You're saying that there was severe trauma to Edward's brain in the car crash and...and he's lost his memory?"

"Yes. Well, not all of his memory. He has a rare form of amnesia that combines both retrograde and anterograde memory loss. He cannot form new memories, and it seems as if he has lost the memories he has formed over the last ten or so years."

I gape at the doctor, my throat parched. Words feel dry and scratchy, lodged in my throat. It's takes me a few minutes before I'm able to respond.

"Will he ever get better?"

The warm smile is gone and is replaced quickly with sad eyes and thin lips.

"At this point, we can't say."

Which is just another way of saying no.

"There is an excellent facility here in Seattle that specializes in patients with memory issues. They have experience with people like Edward and have a whole host of therapy options so that one day..."

He trails off, and I know it's because he doesn't want to give me false hope. I thank him and take the brochures and paperwork he hands me.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"You'll be happy here, Edward," I say, fighting back tears. "I'll come visit as often as I can."

He smiles up at me from his wheel chair, a questioning look marring his sweet face.

"You're not my nurse?" he asks, and I run out of the room before he sees the tears spill over.

oOoOoOoOoOo

A rhythm emerges. I learn by trial and error.

Mostly error.

But nobody has a handbook for this sort of thing. The doctors have given me suggestions, and I work with them as best as I can, but they can't account for everything.

They can't account for the times when I swear he's remembering again and I push too far, scaring him. They can't account for the times when I feel too weak to continue and break down in front of him.

There was the time that he came into the cafe and turned on the Edward Cullen charm that made me fall in love with him all those years ago. I laughed and cried all at once, leaving Edward confused and startled while I ran into the back to compose myself.

There was the time that I came into work late, and had the awful surprise of seeing him chat closely with another woman. Seeing his hand touch her shoulder briefly and laugh in response to a shared joke sent me running to the bathroom, losing my breakfast.

How am I supposed to know that one day he'll be fine with me explaining everything to him, and another day he'll hold me at arm's length, demanding I get out while getting so agitated that a nurse has to come in and give him a shot of something to calm him down?

oOoOoOoOoOo

I roll over, bumping into a warm body and sigh. Even months later his scent is able to soothe me. I look over at the clock and see that it's almost eight in the morning.

Shit!

Not only am I going to be late for work, but I've never...

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?"

His yelling ensures that I'm awake, and the look of fear and panic in his eyes ensures that I will never make this mistake again.