DISCLAIMER: SM owns all Twilight characters and settings. No copyright infringement intended.

WARNING: This chapter has some serious angst and thoughts of suicide. Please read with caution.

Remember this is a flash forward, so it's ten years later and a seventeen year old Edward (following the prologue)

EPOV

Hangman's fracture.

The words hung in the air like a puff of smoke, gradually dissipating, but only after I had a chance to completely absorb what the doctor just told me. His use of slang to describe my injury was off-putting, but given my semi conscious state, it was likely that the mumbled diagnosis wasn't meant to be heard by me. Still, it left me with the lingering mental picture of the myriad of human bodies swinging at the end of rope over the centuries, their necks snapped, their lives ended.

Lovely. But I was still alive…barely.

Thankfully, I recalled very little from my first week in the hospital. I was kept in a drug induced coma to give my body a chance to heal. What little I remembered, involved pain, more pain than I thought possible to endure. It startled me…shocked me. I could feel nothing below my jaw line yet the pain was always there, near the point of my injury and throughout my body. Suffering in silence, not able to scream out my agony or move to escape was torturous. Fortunately, the ever present nurses noticed and they would inject something into one of the many tubes that surrounded me, sending me to a place of bizarre dreams and empty black oblivion.

Eventually consciousness would push away the dark shroud of numbness and I would be inundated with the bright lights and sounds of beeping machines, life saving machines and reality would hit me along with the never ending pain. I would come to learn that the spasms of my muscles that would send my motionless body into a fit of convulsions and the pain from those spasms was an agony unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. My arms and legs moved erratically and not of my own volition and several times a day my bed would be surrounded by nurses and orderlies as they held my flailing body down until the spasm had passed. At times my body would convulse so violently that the nurses would be forced to strap my body to the sides of the bed. How ironic was that. Completely paralyzed yet I had to be strapped down so I wouldn't move too much.

Gradually I became more cognizant of my surroundings. I was told not to fight the ventilator that breathed for me, forcing air into my lungs and subsequently expelling it in a painfully predictable pattern. I couldn't move my head which was supported by metal tongs screwed into my skull and a counter weight that keep me in perpetual traction. A hard cervical collar also supported my head and neck, biting into my throat. I was intubated which kept me from speaking, but I was assured by one of the many nurses that came and went throughout the day that a tracheotomy would be preformed once I was stabilized and I would regain the ability to speak. If she thought that bit of news was reassuring, she was seriously mistaken. The idea of a hole being cut in my throat was terrifying.

Denial though an appealing option was not possible. All I had to do was look around me and the truth was everywhere. First there was the shear inability to move…move anything. No matter how hard I concentrated, no matter how much I tried to force my body to respond, I couldn't move. My entire world was only what I could see from moving my eyes. The beeping machines, the curtains strung up haphazardly, manufacturing rooms around patients either clinging to life or ready to let go; no one had to spell out for me that I was in the intensive care unit of a hospital.

Even before I heard and clung to the phrase hangman's fracture, I knew my neck was broken. There was mumblings between doctors that hovered around my bedside that it was a C1-C2 fracture and my spinal cord was crushed. I had been given no official diagnosis or perhaps I had forgotten, but I didn't need the truth spelled out for me. From what I could remember, the doctor had quickly left after giving me the barest of details. I could not ask him questions, because I could not speak and I had no one to ask them for me. For the first time in my life I understood what it was to be truly and completely alone.

Then came the questions that were almost more painful than the diagnosis. Where was my family, the hospital hadn't been able to reach them. Who should they contact, who would sign for any additional surgeries? Did I have any pre-existing conditions? Was I allergic to anything? Did I have insurance?

The nurses were prepared for my inability to speak. I was to blink once for yes and twice for no. The answers I provided alarmed them. A social worker was summoned. I had plenty of experience with social workers. This one was at a loss for how to communicate with me which was fine by me. I closed my eyes, willing the tears to remain behind my lids until I was alone. When they finally leaked out I felt them slide down the side of my face. I would never be able to wipe them away again.

"...the cervical vertebrae at the top of your spine have been crushed. We will need to do surgery to reattach your skull to your spine, but you need to be stabilized first. I'm sorry to say that the prognosis is not good."

The neurosurgeon, Doctor Carthage had paused, possibly thinking I'd slipped into unconsciousness, but I had only closed my eyes against the florescent lights that glowed above me. I opened them, blinked then closed them again to show I was still with him. He was young man; not Carlisle-young, but still no older than his late thirties or early forties. I had never seen him before, but what I could see now from my peripheral vision was uninspiring. He was completely professional and totally disconnected. He could have been speaking about a lab rat for all the emotion he displayed, yet his indifference to what he was telling me made it easier for me to emulate him. I was as unemotional as he was. Only my current prone position and motionless body reminded me that I was the lab rat in this lecture and it might be wise for me to pay attention.

"You will not walk again. The most you can hope for is to get some control over your head, neck and maybe you shoulders. Given the extent of damage to your spinal cord it is unlikely that you will get any feeling or motion back below the injury point, but we won't know that for sure for many months. You are on a ventilator which is why you have a tube down your throat. You need it to breath, but in the next day or two we're going to replace it with a more permanent solution called a tracheotomy. With some practice you will regain the ability to speak. As time goes on we can attempt to wean you from the ventilator, but if I'm even remotely correct in my diagnosis of your injury, the likelihood of that happening is almost zero. Right now you just need to concentrate on getting stronger."

The only thing I could move was my eyes and I opened them again, looking at the people around my bed. They were strangers to me. The only familiar face was a woman that had been introduced as my social worker. What a lucky assignment for her; a client that couldn't walk or talk. Then there was the hospital psychologist. His very presence annoyed me though I couldn't remember him having spoken a word to me. I would not be an easy patient.

That was all. There was no family, no friends, no Bella. I was alone. And still the doctor droned on.

"Right now the biggest problem you face is the possibility of getting pneumonia. We need to keep a close eye on the any fluid buildup in your lungs. I know that suctioning can be…unpleasant…but it's a necessary evil. You need to quit provoking your team. They are only trying to help you."

My team? What the hell. And how was I provoking them? The doctor was an idiot. Someone needed to shove a tube down his throat choking him, cutting off his air supply; then he could lecture me on this shit.

The look on my face must have conveyed my irritation. His expression changed. He appeared almost sympathetic.

"We've tried to locate your family…your parents. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

I looked at him like he was an idiot. I can't talk, remember doc.

"Blink once for yes, twice for no," he said as if reading my mind.

I blinked twice.

We have been in touch with your caregiver, Sue Clearwater. She's been to the hospital several times, but she has no legal authority over you. Right now you are in the custody of the state and the state will be making decisions for you. Do you understand?

I blinked once.

Generally we only allow immediate family in the intensive care unit, but given your situation, I think we can make an exception to that and allow in some friends. Is that acceptable to you?

I glared at the doctor. What friends?

He nodded. He was good. Flipping through my chart he pulled out a sheet of paper. "It looks like some of the boys that were with you when you were injured tried to see you. Are you okay with that?"

I blinked once.

"Also, the Forks police chief stopped by. He said you are dating his daughter. Are you comfortable with a police officer…"

I blinked once.

"Sue Clearwater…Billy Black…"

I blinked once for each of them.

"Good. Is there anyone else?"

I thought of the Cullens. They wouldn't know I was here so why did I feel disappointed that their names were not in the doctors notes.

I blinked twice.

"Okay well that's a start. Now remember Edward. The key to getting out of here is receiving your full cooperation."

I was paralyzed from the neck down, what the hell did this doctor think I could do to be uncooperative. Never mind that I bit down on the tube they used to suction out my lungs or I kept my eyes clenched shut when I was sick of their questions. In the end my rebellion was always squelched; they always won.

He smiled. Again his abilities transcended the norm. Maybe there was more to this doctor then I gave him credit for.

"I'll check on you tomorrow."

I'll still be here.

A lot of good sarcasm was if I couldn't speak.

Once the hospital confirmed I had no immediate family, others were allowed to visit. Sue Clearwater was the first. She looked sad, so sad and my resentment towards the Cullens intensified with her presence. She shouldn't be here. I wasn't her son. She had her own family to worry about.

Billy came but the position of his wheel chair and the massive amount of life supporting equipment kept me from being able to see him. I did see his hand cover mine, but I felt nothing. It was a sensation that I would become very familiar with. I was confused by his apologies and excuses. I couldn't fathom why he thought that Quil or Embry should have stopped me. It wasn't their fault any more than it was Jake's, yet Billy's voice quivered with his regrets.

Reluctantly the nurses allowed them to visit; my boys from the rez. They stood around uneasily, too young to ever feel comfortable in an intensive care unit surrounded by the gravely ill and dying. They made idle chatter with each other and laughed nervously from time to time and to their credit they stayed with me for almost an hour before the nurse shooed them out. Jacob, before leaving, leaned over and met my eyes.

"Don't worry, dude, things will get better. Just hang in there."

I smiled weakly. It couldn't get much worse. I knew I wouldn't be seeing much of them. The young were never comfortable with tragedy and I was a reminder of their own mortality.

Charlie came as a barrage of nurses and respiratory therapists were attempting to suction out the fluid that was building in my lungs threatening to turn into potentially life ending pneumonia and I caught brief glimpses of his face frozen in horror as I gasped for breath my lifeline to the ventilator briefly severed while they tubed me. He departed abruptly without ever speaking to me and I felt my eyes burn, cursing my frail body for denying me the opportunity to ask him if Bella knew of my condition.

Bella.

Nothing I was suffering through physically could compare to the mental anguish of being denied access to Bella. Unable to talk to her, unable to see her, I could no longer force myself into her life when Charlie became protective and tried to keep me out. There was a time when I was arrogant enough to believe that Bella needed me, that I was the beacon of light in her dark world and she only had to focus on me to find the way out of her never ending nightmare. And for a time, Charlie believed that too. I had him convinced; he could see for himself that Bella relied on me much more than just an average teenage boyfriend. I was her lifeline, her support but now…now what did I have to offer?

I couldn't move, couldn't take care of my most basic human needs. I had no one to help me, no one to turn too. For Charlie to allow me to remain in Bella's life, he would have to accept me as his burden as well and I wasn't deluded enough to picture any scenario where that would happen. Charlie as Bella's father had more than enough to worry about. A paralyzed boyfriend wasn't in the cards.

I spent less time worrying how Bella would feel about me as I lay confined to a hospital bed, helpless as a newborn baby. My faith in her love for me never wavered and even in my current condition I knew she would always be there for me if she could. The role reversal I was experiencing was mind blowing. I couldn't grasp how she would be able to cope with it or even if she could. Would I need to strike her off my list of visitors in order to protect her? Was I strong enough to do that? With Charlie hovering protectively around her would I even have too?

Eventually he came back. I saw him standing next to the curtain of my room, waiting for the nurses to finish swabbing out my mouth with some disgusting cherry flavored shit. There was no chair for him to sit in. I had no one to hold vigil over my bedside as the other patients in the ICU did so the chair was removed, undoubtedly given to my neighbor in the next curtain over, a comatose young women whose steady stream of visitors hadn't gone unnoticed by me.

Charlie stood awkwardly at my bedside trying to stay clear of all the tubes that ran between me and the lifesaving equipment that took up most of the small space of my room.

"I'm so sorry Edward, so sorry this had to happen…such a freak thing." Charlie said gruffly. "I told Billy over and over that those cliffs are dangerous, that something like this could happen…but…it was hard to convince him because…well…until now, nothing ever had."

Until now. That was because I hadn't tried to jump from the top until now. It was only me, always me. I drew bad luck like a moth to a flame. Surely he could see that, but then maybe it was a good thing he was so blissfully unaware. He might have tried harder to keep me away from his daughter if he knew I was a walking disaster.

Walking disaster. That was funny. I wouldn't be a walking disaster anymore; more like a horizontal calamity.

I stared at him intently. The tube down my throat kept me from speaking but my eyes must have conveyed my question.

"Bella doesn't know. I…she…I just can't tell her yet." Charlie was looking everywhere but at me. "She wasn't home last weekend; she had a little set back."

I whimpered.

"No, nothing serious…nothing you should worry yourself over. But now…it's not a good time. I know…I know…it probably will never be a good time. She's going to take this hard, Edward, no matter when I tell her and the longer I keep it from her, the worse it's going to be." Charlie paused and finally his eyes met mine. "She's going to want to come and see you, son. That's the real crux of the problem. She's going to want to see you the minute I tell her and I'm just worried that this place…seeing you here hooked up to all of these machines…well…I'm not sure how she's going to react to it. I need to try and wait as long as possible before I tell her…until you're a little better…"

Yeah, a little better or a little dead.

I didn't need him to draw me a picture. But how could I blame Charlie? His priority was Bella and he was right, seeing me like this would freak her out, could set her back in her treatment. I understood that he couldn't take any chances, but I couldn't tell him that. I could only stare at him. Eventually he looked away.

"Now Edward, there is something else. I know they've tried to talk to you about this and you've been evasive, but it's really something you need to face."

I closed my eyes. I was completely shut off from him now; I was prepared. There was something to be said for being unable to communicate. No reason to lie, no need to explain yourself or justify your actions. It was all good.

"You are still under eighteen. Sue doesn't have legal custody of you so she can't make any decisions for you. Technically your parents, your biological parents are responsible for you but we can't seem to find them anywhere. Do you have any idea where they might be? The nurses told me you can communicate by blinking…is that right? Do you know where they are?"

He waited. He would have a long wait. I kept my eyes closed and eventually he sighed.

"Well, it's not like they could have offered much help anyway."

My parents were trash. Charlie knew that better than anyone. He never held it against me. Maybe he should have.

"Which leads me to the next question. Do you know where the Cullens are?"

My eyes flew open and a strange wheezing sound emanated from my chest. I knew it was my body reacting unconsciously, attempting a sharp intake of air, fighting against the machine that relentlessly pushed air in and out of my lungs.

"Relax Edward. We don't need you getting upset." Charlie backed off instantly looking wearily at the heart monitor that beeped incessantly with the pounding of my heart. "I know you didn't part on the best of terms. But they had feelings for you, strong feelings unless I completely misread them and if you are honest with yourself, I know you had feelings for them too. They are good people. They would want to know what happened. You need family around you and I know they would come if they knew. We need to let them know what is going on."

I deliberately blinked my eyes twice.

"Be reasonable. Carlisle is a doctor. He, more than anyone would be able to understand what the hell these doctors are talking about with all their medical mumbo jumbo, plus he's got resources…money which is something you need right now. He'd make sure you had the best care money can buy. Besides it's not good for you to be alone so much. I don't know if you've realized it or not kiddo, but you are in some deep shit here and it's not something you can go through alone."

Again, I blinked twice. I thought about the black credit card Carlisle had given me. Did hospitals take credit cards? I guessed they did, but I couldn't use it; if I used it Carlisle would know; he would question it. It wasn't like the first thing a teenager did when given access to a limitless credit line would be to go on a shopping spree in a hospital.

The pressure was there. I was ready to cry, I just couldn't do it in front of Charlie, I had to wait.

"Bullheaded little shit." I heard him mumble under his breath. "Well than let me tell you how it's going to be. You will become a ward of the state and your medical care, because you have no insurance, will fall under the state's Medicaid. All your treatment will be dictated by the state. And whether you know this or not, you won't be going home; first because you have no home to go too and second because Medicaid doesn't pay for private nurses and personal caregivers. You're going to end up in the nursing home with people four times your age for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"

Charlie's voice had risen with each assertion earning several tsk tsks from the nursing staff and even some snorts from other visitors within the small confines of the intensive care unit.

I had closed my eyes again, but I could picture his face, red with exertion, his brown eyes flashing much as Bella's did when she was angry. I felt his breath on my face when he leaned over me.

"I know you know where they went. Carlisle wouldn't just abandon you without giving you any way to contact him."

Wouldn't he? I wanted to yell at him. It was probably for the best that I couldn't speak. I wanted to believe it, but I knew better and lying about it to Charlie wouldn't change the fact that there was a phone number taped to the back of that black credit card…Carlisle's new phone number.

"I knew Sue shouldn't have taken you in without knowing how to get a hold of him. Shit…shit…shit."

If I could have spoke, I would have reminded Charlie that neither Carlisle nor any of the other Cullens were legally obligated to provide Sue with anything. They had been in my life for ten years and now they were out of it. It was mutually understood that I was never one of the Cullens and the only thing that brought me into their life in the first place, was pure dumb luck and Esme's need for a child, one she couldn't have on her own.

I was the replacement son that was only good enough when I was young and cute and desperately in need of a family. Once I became the surly belligerent teenager they no longer had a use for me in their lives. How many parents wanted to disown their obnoxious teenagers, but didn't have the legal wherewithal to do it. Fortunately for the Cullens they were never in that position and could dump me whenever it was convenient for them. And they had. I certainly wasn't going to send Charlie begging on my behalf to take me back, especially now that I wasn't even whole person anymore.

Charlie stayed with me a bit longer. He didn't ask about the Cullens again and I didn't open my eyes, but I was startled when I felt his hand run along my chin as he made noises about leaving.

"Edward, you understand about Bella don't you," he asked wistfully.

I opened my eyes and blinked once.

"I'll tell her as soon as I feel she is strong enough, but you need to do your part too. You need to do what the doctors tell you and work hard, get yourself stronger so they can release you from ICU and get you in a regular room. That will help a lot. Bella's use to hospitals, she'll be able to handle it much better once you're out of here."

I blinked once.

What Charlie said made perfect sense. Bella would be scared if she saw me now. But given that I couldn't move, she would be scared if she saw me regardless. The other solution was better. The solution where I was dead. Charlie was a smart man. He wouldn't be dumb enough to bring her to my funeral.

Time had stopped for me the moment I became conscious of my surroundings. I watched the hospital staff around me, the nurses, the orderlies, the doctors that came and went popping in to my curtained world, administering medicines, checking vitals, suctioning my lungs, taking care of my bodily functions, shifting me, bathing me, prodding and poking me, before they disappeared from my world behind the green curtain again. They had lives, they went home to their families every night, they drove cars and went out to eat and saw movies. For them, they had something to live for. I had nothing. Every day was the same as the day before. I stared at the ceiling of the ICU or the curtain to the right of me or the monitors to the left. My bed was specially made for those inflicted with injuries like mine. It filled with air in various spots and those air pockets were constantly being deflated and re-inflated someplace else, trying to alleviate the problem of bedsores, the consequence of lying in one spot too long.

Eventually the tracheotomy was performed and that uncomfortable tube was finally pulled from my throat, but it was only with practice that I was able to tolerate the deflation of the balloon around the trach that allowed air to pass over my vocal cords giving me the ability to speak. Oxygen was precious to me and initially I wanted one hundred percent of it pumped into my lungs. Besides, I didn't need to speak, I had no one to talk too, so the nurses made me practice with them. Once I could tolerate the loss of oxygen, I quickly mastered the technique of speaking. It was just a matter of waiting for the whoosh of air to pass across my vocal cords then I could talk until the air was gone.

I'd been fitted with a gastric tube that went directly into my stomach pumping a nutritious concoction into me that kept my body alive, but I was still losing weight, alarmingly fast. The doctors wanted to test my swallowing reflex to see if I could take food orally, but that couldn't be done until I had the surgery to reattach my skull to my spine. A concentrated effort was made by my team to clear the infection in my lungs so that I could be turned on my stomach for surgery and wouldn't drown in my own fluids.

My visitors were sporadic which was perfectly okay with me, but caused some alarm amongst the staff, my social worker and the hospital psychologist. I would have been completely content to remain secluded, shutting my eyes, letting machines keep me going, having nothing but the memories of my brown haired beautiful girlfriend to keep me company but they were a persistent bunch, those hospital staffers. I knew it was their job and I tried not to lash out too much, but their endless poking and prodding would send me over the edge and I would scream breathless obscenities at them unmindful of the close quarters of the ICU. I could almost hear Esme scolding me…language please.

The day came when I was told I was ready to have the surgery. At first I was apathetic about it, hardly paying attention to the doctor's endless prattling using medical terms I couldn't possible understood, offering a risk assessment and nonexistent alternatives. But when he mentioned the likelihood of dying and put the odds at fifty-fifty, my ears perked up.

The operation involved reconnecting my skull to the top of my spine by using wires and a piece of bone from my hip. A titanium pin would be fused between my first and second vertebrae and holes would be drilled in my skull so the wires could be passed through them ensuring a solid fit. It sounded medieval.

The likelihood of my dying on the operating table was high, but not doing the surgery meant I would have no mobility and would be forced to remain in a form of traction for my entire life, the fragility of my spine ultimately ending it prematurely.

I was still a minor, unable to determine my own fate, but because of the seriousness of the operation my team had been assembled to make an informed decision. I found that despite it being my life, I had little to say in the matter so I mostly listened as the arguments were made for and against the surgery with the final conclusion being that I was young and needed to have the flexibility that the surgery would offer me so I might resume whatever quality of life one could have when confined to a wheelchair without use of any of my limbs and requiring a ventilator one hundred percent of the time.

"We have one of the best surgeons in the country coming in for this surgery Edward. He's done it successfully more than anyone else and he's your best hope for a successful outcome."

Immediately I was suspicious.

"Why is he coming in for me…who's paying. Does he know…I can't pay?" I gasped in time with the rush of air from the ventilator.

"He's an old colleague of mine and I asked him. Medicaid will pay the standard physician costs and he is paying his own expenses. You are doing it as much for him as he is for you. Surgeries such as this are quite rare. Most patients don't live…well…we seldom get to the point of performing surgery on patients with a C1-C2 fracture. Any doctor would appreciate the opportunity to get more experience in surgery especially when it's so rare, but I don't want you to think this is some kind of experimental surgery. He is the best there is, that's why he's coming. It's my job to make sure that you get the best care possible and stepping aside for him is my way of doing that.

I thought about telling Doctor Carthage that it would be a-okay with me if he did the surgery himself. Given the alternative, dying on the operating table seemed like a good opportunity to escape from this nightmare, but the decision had been made; I could see it in his face and those of my team. Besides, the surgery would be performed by the most experienced doctor available and still my odds would only be fifty-fifty. There was always hope.

The day before the surgery, I had another round of visitors. This time Jacob came with Billy. They chatted about non consequential things on the reservation. Jacob had taken his ACTS and felt confident that he did well on them. He was trying for an academic scholarship from the University of Washington, and I promised to help him study through the coming school year…if I wasn't dead.

Sue Clearwater came within minutes of Charlie's arrival and both of them looked flustered. So it was true then. There was a lot of speculation that they were a couple, even though no one could claim to have seen either of them together-together until now. There was a time when I might have teased them with suggestive comments to intensify their discomfort but now I barely noticed. Charlie sat quietly in a chair that he snagged from the curtained room next door. The comatose girl didn't need it anymore. They had wheeled her out the day before, her body discreetly covered by a sheet.

Sue gave me an update on Seth's first days back in school and finally meeting Leah's new boyfriend; a boy from Port Angeles who was not of Indian descent. Her conclusion was that he was too nice and Leah would tire of him quickly. Eventually she ran out of safe subjects that wouldn't remind me of my own hopeless situation and the room was filled with an awkward silence.

I'd closed my eyes as a signal that she could leave. I no longer wanted her presence…I was tired…she shouldn't feel guilty. Besides I wanted to ask Charlie about Bella and he wouldn't speak openly with Sue in the room.

"Edward, I need to ask you a question," Sue said so quietly, I barely heard her.

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Did Carlisle tell you how to contact him in case something like this…something bad happened?"

I would have sighed if the ventilator allowed it. The question wasn't completely unexpected. After Charlie's attempts to fish the information out of me had failed, I fully expected Sue would give it a go especially now that I saw they were together.

"I don't want…Carlisle here," I said with as much conviction as my breathless voice allowed.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed that they left you like they did, I don't care what the reason was, but Edward, now is not the time for holding onto that anger. This is a full blown emergency. Carlisle is a doctor. He can help make the decisions that are in your best interest and I for one would like more information on this surgery by someone that understands what these doctors are talking about. You know they are bringing in a surgeon from out of state to do it. I don't trust that. It sounds like some guy with an ego that wants to add another feather to his cap. If Carlisle were here he would know if it's the right thing to do and I know he would only have your best interests at heart.

I was surprised at how passionately she defended Carlisle. The Quileutes were not exactly friends with the Cullens. It was possible I supposed that Sue didn't know the entire truth about the Cullens or she might only be mimicking Charlie's sentiments without taking into considering what Carlisle really was, but I had a hard time believing that Billy wouldn't have tried to steer her away from involving the Cullens. No one was more happy to see them go then the Quileutes, yet here was Sue asking me to bring Carlisle back.

"I don't mind…being the feather…on some jackass doctor's cap," I said honestly enough. I don't mind dying either.

"Well I just want you to know that you don't have to go through with this surgery. Not right away. We can delay it; try to find out more about it. I can't bear the thought…." Her voice cracked.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was a beautiful woman even if she was old enough to be my mother. It was too bad she had been burdened with me. Carlisle had never given me an explanation as to why Sue had been chosen to be my unofficial guardian; he never gave me a choice, but now it made sense. She actually appeared to care for me. It was a weird feeling, a feeling I had before, a feeling I didn't trust. The rage I felt towards Carlisle was there, just below the surface and I wanted to lash out at someone…something, but Sue didn't need to see that so I beat the anger back. He would have done better to dump me back at the state's doorstep then take advantage of this women's kindness and gentle soul. But it probably made them feel better, alleviated their guilt, helped Esme get past the idea that she abandon her adopted son.

"It's alright…I don't mind. It's really… my only option. And fifty–fifty is better…than nothing," I said calmly.

One look at her face told me that my words had offered her nothing in the way of comfort. I closed my eyes again and heard her sigh. I was not her responsibility and it gave me another reason to hate Carlisle. He had no right to saddle this woman with me.

"I'm going to leave now and let you and Charlie have a moment, but I'll be here when you get out of surgery tomorrow, okay Edward?"

"Sure." I cracked an eye open just in time to see Sue and Charlie share a look. I didn't have to imagine what they were thinking. There was a good possibility that I wouldn't be around tomorrow and we all knew it.

I heard the scraping of a chair as Charlie stood up. He cleared his throat, than silence.

"You haven't told….Bella yet." I said.

"No, Edward. I thought it was better to wait until after the surgery."

"Yeah maybe I'll die…and save you…the trouble."

Charlie sighed.

"It's okay…I understand."

"Once I tell her Edward, everything will change for her…everything." Charlie's voice sounded dejected, almost ashamed.

"No, I get it. No point telling her…I'm paralyzed…if I'm going to die," I didn't blame Charlie one bit. As much as I wanted to see Bella, her well being was my number one concern. Seeing me like this would undoubtedly cause an episode, a setback. It wasn't in her best interest to know what I was going through yet, not until we knew that I would be around for at least a little while longer.

"Edward, if I thought she could handle it, she would be here. I'm not trying to keep her from you." He actually chuckled. "Those days are long gone."

I smiled a little at that. Yeah Charlie had done his best to keep Bella and I apart once he found out we felt that way about each other. I never blamed him. He only had her best interests at heart and as soon as he found out that she was…well…that she had issues, he became extremely protective.

"Has she…asked about me?"

"Yeah and you will be happy to know that she blames me completely for keeping you away."

I frowned. Charlie would be all that Bella had if I died. I didn't like the idea that she blamed him for anything. Those feelings had a way of escalating and turning into paranoia. It was important that Bella trust Charlie completely.

"Don't worry," Charlie said, reading the concern on my face. "It's just a typical father-daughter disagreement. She thinks I'm being an overprotective nag—her words not mine. As soon as you're through this surgery I'll tell her then we'll make arrangements to visit."

And if I'm dead, visiting me won't be part of the conversation.

For the first time since I found myself in the hospital, I felt a rush of panic and fear. I didn't want to die. I had to stay alive for Bella's sake, she needed me; she wouldn't survive without me. The beeping of the heart monitor increased, as I struggled within my motionless body.

"I'll take care of her Edward, don't worry about Bella, she'll be okay." Charlie was giving me permission to die.

He stayed with me until my heart rate returned to normal, ignoring the nurses that asked him to leave. I closed my eyes lost in my own thoughts and regrets, trying not to dwell too much on the upcoming surgery that was now only a few hours away, but unable to reconcile how my life had gotten so fucked up. True, it had never been an easy road, always been a struggle, but there was a time, right around when the Cullens came into my life, that I had hope, when I thought I finally turned the corner and that maybe, just maybe things would get better.

If only seven year old Edward knew what seventeen year old Edward did; that some people are just born under a bad sign. If I survived the surgery I would have to think about that. Maybe being in Bella's life was the worst thing I could do. Maybe Charlie should tell her I died. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about it…fifty-fifty odds weren't really that good.

Author Notes:

I hope this doesn't get confusing. We will be going back to young Edward again for several chapters.

Reviews would be wonderful. ;o)