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

WARNING: Plenty of angst and some of the content will be insulting to those with disabilities.

So I'm a liar. I thought…I was positive I would get this chapter out quickly. Well two months later and even that was a struggle. I can only blame my illness. I guess I'm distracted. But if it continues at this rate, even the vampires will be old by the time this story is complete.

Now a reminder…this chapter is back in the hospital with seventeen year old Edward. He was just about ready to go into surgery after making Carlisle promise not to change him. Let's see if Carlisle kept that promise.

Edward's POV

Click-clack…click-clack…click-clack.

The sound drew me like a moth to a flame and I clung to it, desperately wanting to find a way out of the abyss of blackness that stretched on endlessly, the thickness of the air oppression and suffocating reminding me of the stagnant air in a stuffy tent on a hot summer night.

Eventually, I was able to identify that sound, so maddening in its repetitiveness, only varying in volume and clarity and as much as that noise held no relevance to my situation, I clung to it, hoping it would lead me to a consciousness that was much preferable to the disorienting void that I languished in and toward the less defined but more familiar static of sounds that should have resonated with more than a random sound of noisy footsteps.

And then, as the sound, that single unremarkable click clack…click clack of women's high heeled shoes on a hard tile floor, faded away to nothing; the rumbling began. Slowly at first then faster and faster, louder and louder, culminating into a deafening roar; and with it came a tidal wave of water crushing me, making it impossible for me to breathe or hear or concentrate on anything else. I was overcome by it, caught up in it, tossed and turned and battered in a wave of water that I couldn't feel, but that pummeled me none the less. I tried to gasp for air, but the water invaded my lungs and I was unable to draw in a breath, unable to cry out for help to the voices that were still just whispers, but growing louder, more coherent, more familiar as they called out to me above the roaring torrent of water.

Just when I thought my panic…my terror of the unknown assailant that pummeled my body, couldn't get worse, it did get worse. I felt it, the heat, an intense burning; the water was scalding my body. I was being boiled alive and still I floundered, unable to right myself, unable to find air, unable to escape the bubbling caldron that I found myself in, my arms and legs refusing to obey the simplest commands.

So I let go, just let go, hoping my lack of resistance would set me on a course of relief from the torture of the heat and the pressure from the water and the inability to breathe and I could sink back into a oblivion that I had just come from before being enticed from it by the click-clack of women's shoes.

"Edward."

That voice.

I knew that voice and as confirmation, I felt the touch of his ice cold hand against my face. Shuddering a little, I welcomed it against my burning flesh and was only sorry that I couldn't engulf myself completely in the coldness.

"Edward, I know you can hear me, open your eyes, son."

The roaring hadn't subsided, but it was less intrusive and I was able to focus on the calm self-assured voice that beckoned me, encouraged me to let my embattled unconsciousness go.

"Can't breathe…" I managed to gasp.

"Carlisle!"

"Can't…"

"Edward, let the ventilator do it for you. Stop struggling…you're okay…just relax."

"Drowning…water…can't breathe."

"Carlisle!"

"Esme, the machine breathes for him. He's just confused. Talk to him…he can hear you."

Another hand on my face, this one as equally soothing… cold, hard, yet with a contradictory softness.

"Edward, sweetie, it's okay. We're here, all of us are here. Can you hear me? You can breathe, just listen to my voice and relax."

The voices were louder now, louder than the roaring and I heard other things. Things I'd grown accustomed too, sounds I hadn't wanted to hear again, noises that brought me back; the whooshing…the beeping. Sounds that I half expected would be gone should I ever open my eyes again. But they were there and with that I could hear someone else talking, someone in the back ground, trying to be quiet but not succeeding; the baritone of his voice reverberating through the room.

"Hey bro…take it easy. Hospitals freak me out enough without seeing you gulping for air like a fish out of water."

"Emmett!"

"Hey babe, I can't help it; hospitals and our kind don't mix. The blood…that smell."

"Emmett, there is no fresh blood anywhere near us."

"Yeah Carlisle, but it's the idea of blood and I can smell it…the old stuff. Can't you?"

"Rosalie, would you take Emmett outside for a walk."

"I think he can find his own way outside."

I was concentrating on them and forgot that I couldn't breathe, forgot that I had to breathe. Carlisle was right; the machine did it for me. It was better; there was no roaring…no burning…no smothering. The air was rushing in, filling my lungs and with no effort on my part, being expelled again.

But I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want to see them. They hadn't been a part of my life for several months and I hadn't expected them to all return; yet there they were and I sucked it in, every word of their conversation.

"Is it better, sweetheart? Can you breathe now?"

Esme's soft lilting voice filled my ears like the music from finely tuned musical instrument. I could smell the sweetness of her breath and knew she hovered over me. I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes. Now that I was back from whereever I'd been, I understood where I was, why I was there and how I had come to be there and I wanted to feel angry. I wanted that anger to consume me so I could open my mouth and banish them from my life as they had done me, make them hurt like they had hurt me. I wanted to do it, but I just couldn't find the words and when I felt Esme's icy lips touch my forehead, I felt the betrayal of a single tear as it slid down my cheek.

I tried to nod my head in response to her question, but I couldn't move, I still couldn't move. Nothing had changed. I was still stuck in the broken shell of a body that would never be whole again. I was vaguely aware of Esme's hands against my face, the pressure of her lips against my forehead, in my hair and the soft little unintelligible whispers that needed no clarification and were simple expressions of her love.

I wasn't sure how long I was subject to her adoration, too absorbed in the contemplation that Carlisle had kept his promise, had saved me through surgery alone if saved was the right word; hadn't resorted to giving me an eternal life that I purported not to want. I had no time to consider whether it was what I truly desired, but eventually I knew I needed an explanation, needed confirmation that the surgery was a success insomuch as it could be and I forced my eyes open, looking beyond Esme's strained face to Carlisle who was standing next to her, his face curiously twisted in pain as he watched her mother over me.

"Guess it was…a success."

Carlisle's eyes flickered to mine and he smiled sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid I impressed the entire surgical team with my skill. They've offered me a job here at the hospital if I want it."

"Too bad…you've overstayed…your time in this…part of the…country."

"Remember, we left a little early. It wouldn't raise any suspicions if we stayed."

"He shouldn't have given you a choice." Rosalie was standing just beyond him, arms crossed, her expression obstinate.

"Rosalie, please." Esme's admonishment came out weakly. She was no longer leaning over me, but her fingers continued to stroke my face.

"I'm serious. This nonsense. Leaving him this way…he would be changed by now…"

…and burning in agony," Carlisle interrupted.

"That didn't stop you from changing me." Rosalie spat. I was surprised by her fury and guessed Carlisle had not had an easy time justifying his conciliation to my request.

"I was able to give him a choice; he chose to remain as he was, understanding the consequences. I couldn't force him against his will."

"…and how is this better? How is living like this any better? You should have just killed him on the operating table."

"Rosalie!" Esme and Carlisle's shocked voices chorused together.

I squinted at my adopted sister who was as much like a mother to me as Esme was. She was angry, furious at Carlisle. Apparently her opinion of the quality of my life as a cripple was about as bad as my own.

"So Edward, is this just another act of rebellion, another chance to hurt us? Did you choose to remain this way just so you could get back at us?"

Rosalie's question caught me off guard. It was astute of her to come to that conclusion, but one I hadn't honestly considered until she said it out loud. Was I doing this to punish them? I would be an idiot to admit it, so I didn't think on it too hard. There was so much I wanted to say to Rosalie in that moment. She should have been my biggest defender, not bound by the pragmatism of her mate as Esme was; a free spirit and strongly protective of those she loved which I thought included me. Regardless of how reckless it was, she shouldn't have left. She had no fear of Carlisle; she would and often did defy him. I wanted to remind her of that, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to stay focused on the conversation around me. Too many voices…the lights were too bright…the pain that I had only just become aware of was starting to get my attention. I wondered how long I'd been out of surgery.

"You left…me. You were…suppose to protect….me but you left…me." I mumbled. Hardly the decisive argument I wanted to make, but it produced the desired effect and I felt a small bit of satisfaction when Rosalie visibly recoiled.

"And this is your way of getting back at us?"

"Maybe. Is it working?" I smiled when she frowned.

"Edward, sweetie, please you must forgive us for that. It was never, ever our intention to leave you, but we had no other choice." Esme's voice, weepy.

I didn't reply. Hurting Esme wasn't something I relished doing and I felt slightly ashamed of my behavior, but only briefly, until Carlisle spoke.

"He knows that. He knows at the time we had no other choice, no other option."

"Sure…sure…well things…sure turned out…peachy didn't…they? Now that you fixed…me up…you can just go…I don't need…you here."

Esme's hand pressed possessively against my cheek and I unconsciously rubbed against it.

"I think we're going to wait until you are more stable before we have that conversation again," Carlisle said wearily.

"Not like I…can stop you."

And I didn't really want to stop them. Not now anyway. Not with Esme humming against my ear; not when I heard Carlisle scold Rosalie and not when I was briefly startled by a gruff snort from Emmett who had decided to return to my bedside at some point. I was drifting again, slipping away, but it wasn't like before. This time, the air felt cool and crisp and though it was dark, there was no heat, just a warmth, like a cozy blanket had been wrapped around me and I was being held, suspended by it, my body casually embraced by the darkness that had now become my escape.

In the days following my surgery, I began to realize what exactly I had condemned myself to; what it felt like to be completely and totally paralyzed with no hope of every walking, scratching an itch, feeding myself or even breathing on my own, again. I'm not sure why I was only facing that reality now. It might have been the familiarity of having my family around me, reminding me what I once had, what I lost and could never get back again. But whatever made me face my situation, absorbing the consequences of not only my action to jump off that cliff that day, but the decisions that would leave me in this state of perpetual stillness for the rest of my life, it generated a depression so rank, so filled with despair, I could barely find the will to participate in the most simple conversations and I struggled to find any meaning to an existence that left me as helpless as a newborn baby.

Carlisle tried to deflect the worst of my prognosis, always pointing out the best possible outcome. After a few days of indulging Dr Carthage's hypothesis on the potential for regaining any movement or sensation beyond what I had now, he began exerting more and more control over my medical treatment and rehabilitation plan. He would contradict the doctor often, using his vast and endless medical knowledge, leaving his colleague frustrated and at a loss for words. His optimism appeared grounded in real knowledge and occasionally I felt a fluttering of hope that would only last as long as he was at my side, recognizing in his absence that any physical victories would amount to little more than being able to take a few breaths on my own or move my head or a shoulder enough to allow me to operate the controls of a wheelchair.

Nothing escaped Carlisle's attention and for the first time I got some sense of his exceptional skill as a physician and how his supernatural gifts gave him a significant advantage over his human counterparts. When I felt ill, but not so much so that I could verbalize any specific symptoms, it was Carlisle that determined through his extraordinary sense of smell that I had an infection growing around my trach. Before I even noticed that I was drawing in shorter and shorter breaths, it was he that could hear the sloshing of fluid around my lungs as pneumonia took hold and alerted the hated respiratory therapist, subjecting me to several minutes of torture as the fluid was suctioned from my lungs.

While Carlisle took care of the medical aspects of my care, Esme tried to fill my emotional needs. Unfortunately, her face often reflected the guilt that she undoubtedly carried with her, blaming herself for my injury as only a mother could and I was inundated with my own guilt and shame reminded how I had fantasized about hurting her and the rest of them those first few days in the hospital.

I saw little of Emmett who found the sights and smells of the hospital too disconcerting to tolerate for extended periods of time and I always felt relieved when he left. Emmett was my buddy, my best friend the big brother who I had always looked up too even though he was years, even decades older if I took into consideration his vampire years. Our closeness was never based on expressing emotions or engaging in deep lengthy conversations. I had nothing to offer Emmett anymore and I was embarrassed by my pathetic physical condition with him more than anyone else.

Unfortunately Emmett's sporadic visits didn't keep Rosalie away and where I could tolerate Esme's quiet tending, I was less tolerant of Rosalie whose bitchiness was frightening off the nurse's aides leaving her to take care of some of my more personal needs which was humiliating for me even as she insisted she was more capable then the incompetent idiots that had kept me alive to that point.

Alice's visits depressed me. Her vivacious personality was muted, her sparkling eyes dulled and she found little to occupy her busy hands, the confines of the hospital room more pronounced, my lifeless body a sharp contrast to her active one. She would also get that look on her face from time to time and I knew she was seeing my future or trying to. It brought me no comfort. There was no relief on her face, no revelation that this hell I was in would end and if there were any hope in her eyes it was quickly squelched by pensive thoughtfulness or outright confusion as her visions failed to predict my future.

When I questioned her on it, she would frown and shake her head, suggesting that any visions of me were undefined or just plain confusing. I suspected her visions kept her away more than the rest, that and the fact that Jasper couldn't come to see me, the temptations that a hospital offered, too much for him to endure. Open wounds, injuries, blood; not a conducive environment for a vampire that struggled with his thirst. Instead I got to see his commitment to me through video conferencing. He looked uncomfortable and his eyes flickered away from the screen. We didn't talk often.

With the pain of being thrust back into a life that was a shadow of what it had been before my injury, I still saw the benefits of having my family back even if my whole world now consisted of a small hospital room with one small north facing window that caught no sunlight. I'd been moved from the intensive care exactly seven days after surgery and the privacy for myself and more importantly my vampire family though convenient also emphasized just how much I had to rely on others to keep me alive.

One of my biggest fears was being unable to breathe and it wasn't unjustified. My ventilator was prone to pop offs, the connections of hoses attached to it would just detach or spring a leak and unable to draw a breath on my own, I would come face to face with the death I so desperately wanted.

Unlike holding my breath under water, there would be no air left in me when I exhaled that final time other than what was in the nooks and crannies of my lungs and so I would be left waiting for someone to notice, feeling just as Emmett had implied the day I woke up, like a fish out of water, until the leak was found and fixed. It had happened a few times when I was still in the intensive care unit before the surgery and before my family was back at my side. An alarm would sound after I missed two breaths, alerting the nurses who usually responded quickly to the life threatening emergency.

But they were no longer fifteen feet from me; the nursing station was down the hall and I could never be sure how well they were paying attention. So the first time it happened after I was moved, I was left struggling to breathe, my peripheral vision fading to black, the first telltale sign I was dying. I wasn't surprised when the first person at my side was Carlisle. Seconds later, the hose reattached, my breathing restored, two nurses appeared at my door, at first bewildered that I wasn't under duress, their expressions changed to shame then fear as Carlisle glowered at them.

Each occurrence was no less terrifying than the last, being unable to breathe and knowing that unless someone noticed, I would be dead in minutes. Not that I was afraid of dying, but when I wasn't in control, when I saw spots dance across my eyes just before I passed out, it wasn't peaceful, not in the way I envisioned. But after the first few pop offs, that didn't happen anymore because I was never left alone. Someone was always nearby and since whoever that someone was could move so fast that no human being including myself could see them, I was never left in limbo for more than a few seconds before oxygen was restored and the face of one of them would peer down at me anxiously, making sure that I was breathing again.

"Where's Bella?" I managed to croak out ten days after my surgery when I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the room. But I knew I wasn't alone. I was never alone anymore.

Unfortunately it was Rosalie's turn to babysit me and she sighed heavily without answering.

"Are you…keeping her from…me? I want to see…Bella." I tried to make my voice more forceful, but the ventilator left it sounding breathless and weak.

"We aren't keeping you from her…Charlie is just being paranoid as usual. He says it's too soon." Rosalie mumbled, from somewhere beyond my view.

"Too soon? Too soon…for what. Nothing's going to…change. I'm not…going to just…jump up and start…walking any…time soon."

"He wants to see what rehab will do. He thinks once you're up in the chair it will be better for her."

I scowled.

They…my doctors…Carlisle…had been trying to convince me to try my brand new high tech wheelchair that was parked against the wall next to my bed, taunting me for two days now, but I stubbornly resisted. Facing it, facing rehab, just reminded me what I was, paralyzed from the neck down, a C2 complete facture. No chance to regain anything but the most minimal movement in my neck and maybe my shoulders. No chance to ever breathe on my own again. Forced to have someone attend to my every need, my every bodily function for the rest of my miserable life.

"You're just…fucking with me. All…of you. You're…blackmailing me. Either…I let you get me…in that chair or…you're going to…keep Bella from…me," I said bitterly, staring at the ceiling.

And then I was staring at Rosalie's face and she didn't look happy.

"Leaving you for six months in the company of those…those…boys on the reservation certainly hasn't improved your language any."

"Then leave. No one…is asking you…to stay," I said, more contritely then I intended.

"I have nothing to do with Bella not coming to see you. That's Charlie's condition." Rosalie sat on the end of the bed, mindful of all the tubes that made any type of physical closeness always a challenge. "Why are you being so difficult about this wheelchair thing? They are going to get you in it whether you want to or not."

I didn't say anything. How could I? The chair scared me more than I cared to admit. In the bed I was safe. I was hooked up to the ventilator, my life support and I knew what to expect. I didn't have to worry about being dropped by one of the aides that would move me from bed to chair or risk falling if the chair tipped over. I didn't have to worry that the portable ventilator would fail or they wouldn't get it hooked up properly or the battery on it would die. I didn't have any responsibilities, like trying to move when I couldn't move or trying to breathe on my own when everyone knew I never would. I didn't have to do anything but lie there.

"Edward, I don't think Charlie will budge on this. If you want to see Bella, you need to be in that chair."

I closed my eyes and ignored Rosalie until eventually she gave up trying to talk to me and when I opened my eyes sometime later she was no longer sitting next to me, but I knew I wasn't alone. She was there…one of them was there…they always were.

"Dinner time, Edward." A cheerful voice startled me as I tried to doze.

Pretending to sleep wouldn't dissuade them. I already knew that. They would just wake me up. No respect. But I needed to eat. I had lost ten pounds during my time in the hospital and it was weight I could ill afford to lose. The nutrition being pumped in me via my gastric tube kept me alive but it could not put on weight. A test confirmed that my swallowing mechanism worked, but eating was a challenge. Food made me sick, especially the smell of it and I found it almost intolerable; even my favorite meals made me retch. By resisting attempts to feed me, I could usually get off with eating the bare minimum when I finally surrendered and gagged down a few mouthfuls. The aides saw it as a victory, never taking into consideration how little I was actually eating. That worked until Esme took over the responsibility of feeding me.

I'd always been a good eater as a child, especially when I realized that I was only one in the Cullen household that actually ate all the food that Esme prepared at mealtimes. I had never had to be forced or coerced into eating and so no one studied my eating habits too closely making sure that I was getting enough to sustain my human body.

But now, because I was completely helpless and had absolutely no appetite, they were forced to address my food intake as they never had to in the past.

"I'll take care of that," Esme said, magically appearing out of nowhere and taking the tray of food from a startled nurse's aide and placing it on the small table next to me.

"I'm not…hungry."

"You need to eat, Edward."

"Why don't you…try it? It tastes like…shit."

Esme rolled her eyes. "We can order something in; what would you like?"

I didn't answer. I had tried pizza; that was an embarrassing mess. Chinese, my favorite, same problem; more food on my face then in my mouth. My taste buds had adapted. I now ate what was the easiest for them to feed me. Taste was no longer part of the equation.

The Salisbury steak, whipped potatoes and steamed carrots weren't messy. I could gag it down and hopeful avoid having my face wiped when I was done.

Esme raised the bed. Since the surgery, I was no longer in traction so I spent part of my day sitting up in bed. But even that was not without risks and my blood pressure had to be closely monitored. There was talk of putting special socks called T.E.D's on my legs, forcing the blood from my legs where it wasn't needed, but so far I resisted. They reminded me of women's support hose.

"Carlisle said they want to move you to the wheelchair tomorrow morning." Esme said, cutting at the rubbery meat.

I felt my heart skip a beat and I bit my lip.

"Doesn't make sense…to go through… all that work…for a couple of…hours. I can just…sit in bed."

"You have to start somewhere." She held the fork to my lips and I obediently opened my mouth. It was amazing how quickly I had accepted that I would need to be fed like a baby for the rest of my life.

"Why? I don't need…to be in a chair. I…can't move anything…anyway," I said after quickly swallowing down the dead flesh of some undefined part of a cow. I retched a little and Esme frowned.

Can't get sick….can't get sick.

"Is it alright? I can get you something else. We could have Alice stop and pick something up."

"It's fine." I opened my mouth and Esme used my compliancy to shovel another fork full of meat into it.

"You shouldn't discount what you can do in your wheelchair. Carlisle said with some rehabilitation, you might even be able to start college in the spring. You don't want to be confined to a bed for the rest of your life do you?"

I didn't answer. It wasn't lost on me how she referred to that chair as mine. It was the closest I would get to ever being able to drive anything again. I should have been grateful that the Cullens could afford to buy me that hunk of metal. Motorized wheelchairs, especially those for quadriplegics on ventilators were expensive. I was an unappreciative cripple.

"Do you wish…Carlisle would..have changed me?"

My question caught Esme off guard and her hand stopped, suspended in the air, the fork loaded with carrots, too far away for me to reach.

"I…I…wouldn't have wanted him to do anything against your will," she finally said, but her eyes didn't meet mine. She was lying.

"You don't…have to feel guilty…you know. What…happened to me…had nothing to do…with you. I probably…would have jumped…even if you were…still around. The…Quileutes do it…all the time."

I couldn't be sure but I thought Esme's eyes narrowed just a bit at the mention of my friends on the reservation. I would never understand the animosity between the Cullens and the Quileutes. Even Esme, who generally liked everyone, appeared less then conciliatory towards them. And it wasn't lost on me that not a single one of my friends or Sue had paid me a visit since the Cullens arrived.

"You blame them," I said.

Esme finally looked at me and shook her head.

"No. No…boys will be boys…" her voice trailed off and she looked lost in thought. "But they should have known it wouldn't be safe for you."

She became aware of the fork full of carrots and brought it to my lips.

"What's wrong…with me?" I asked, ignoring the orange crap on the fork. "Why is it…safe for them…and not for me?"

I thought back to all the years of Esme's warnings to be careful, her watchful eye always on me when I played. I had always thought it was because the Cullens were vampires, indestructible and she was just being overprotective of me, the fragile human kid; but now…could it be something else?

"Edward, there is nothing wrong with you; those boys on the reservation, they're just so…so rough." She amended, but her eyes didn't meet mine. I thought she might be lying again, but what did it matter anymore.

I opened my mouth and the carrots found their way to the back of my throat. I gagged a little. Neither Esme nor I had gotten the feeding thing down completely. She looked mortified.

"The nurse's aide…can do this." I offered already knowing what her answer would be.

"You'll starve if I leave it up to them. " She smiled weakly and scooped some whipped potatoes on the fork; no gravy thankfully.

"I know Carlisle has…already told you…this, but you don't…have to stay you…know. You don't…have to stay…here. You left me…you weren't going…to come back…you left." I paused for effect and saw her face crumble, but despite the nagging guilt, I pressed on.

"You don't have…any obligation to…me…no reason to stay. I'll be fine. I'll get in that…chair tomorrow and…go to rehab and…then find someplace…to go...a place for people…like me. I'll even…I'll even let…you guys pay…for it." I struggled with the last few words, feeling my throat close up and wondering if maybe I hadn't swallowed all my food properly, but that wasn't it.

I saw Esme's throat working. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was she that was struggling to swallow something. She put the plate of food aside and bowed her head for a minute and when she finally lifted her eyes, I had a hard time meeting them. I knew what her answer was going to be; knew it before I even said anything, but I had to give her the option. Carlisle would go along with it, if it were something Esme truly wanted.

But rather than speak immediately, Esme leaned forward gripping my face between her hands and kissed me, first on one cheek, then the other. Gently she pressed her face into the crook of my neck being careful to avoid the trach and I felt her lips on my ear. I even imagined I felt a little tingling sensation running up and down my spine, but I guessed that was just a memory of another time when Esme's cold kisses made me shiver with cold and delight.

"You're my son. I would never abandon you." She pulled back and quickly pressed her finger to my lips before I could remind her she had done that very thing.

"Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Ever. Even my human life." She paused letting those words sink in. I knew her history. "Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe there was another way. Maybe we didn't try hard enough to come up with another alternative and if we had, maybe you wouldn't be here lying in this bed. But even if we never left and that jump was just fate, something that would have happened either way; nothing and I mean nothing would keep me from being here at your side now."

One hand had slid down from my face and she stroked my arm. I watched her hand as I had Carlisle's and those of my siblings, no less amazed when I realized their penetrating cold could not touch me anymore and I felt a deep overwhelming sadness fill me.

"Being away from you tore me apart and not even Carlisle could fix it." Esme continued, her voice hitching a little. She paused, looking down at her own hand stroking my arm. "I was coming back no matter what, with or without the rest of them. I was coming back to get you…my son."

The ventilator didn't allow me to cry. I couldn't take gasping breaths as I hiccupped out my sobs. The only sign at all was the single tear I felt sliding down my cheek. It was quickly wiped away by Esme.

"I'm here for the long haul. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you again. I'll give you your space as you grow and mature into the man you will become, but I'll always be close and I'll always take care of you and help you if you need me."

I concentrated on the hissing of the ventilator, willing myself not to cry, embarrassed that I couldn't hide my emotions, couldn't turn my head or wipe my tears. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop them. I didn't say anything at first; I didn't know what to say. I could protest and demand that they leave me but I knew that wasn't an option. I might have been able to keep Carlisle from biting me, but I wasn't so delusional as to think he would take the entire family and leave because I demanded it.

I could make a stink legally, get a court order to keep them away from me, but that seemed like a ridiculous overreaction and I couldn't imagine hurting Esme like that. But on the other hand I didn't want them to feel obligated to stay out of some sense of duty or feelings of guilt. It would have been better…easier if they never came back. Damn Carlisle for dragging the entire family into my mess.

I felt Esme's hand grip my chin. She ignored the tears this time, assuming correctly that I was self- conscious about them.

"Don't delude yourself kiddo. There is no place I'd rather be then here with you, no matter your physical condition and I think I speak for all of us when I say that." I opened my eyes and studied her. She looked thoughtful, like she wanted to say something else. But instead she started stroking my hair and humming softly.

I sighed and closed my eyes again. I wouldn't win that argument. And should I? If I got past my catastrophic injury and my complete helplessness and the humiliation I felt at being helpless as an infant, incapable of even taking shit on my own, I could see why she was so adamant in her loyalty.

They were immortal; they would live forever. Carlisle was over three hundred years old. What was a few years spent with me when they had all the rest of time to live their lives after I was gone. They wouldn't really be giving up anything by taking care of me. It would give them something to do. Fill some time. Alice once told me that the hardest thing about being a vampire was finding ways to keep themselves engaged in living from one decade to the next, never changing, never moving forward. Granted it wasn't ideal. Taking care of me wasn't going to be a picnic, but it would occupy a few years and what was that when you had decades and centuries and millenniums to look forward to.

"But first things first," Esme said brightly. "We need to get you into a rehabilitation facility so you can gain back some mobility and learn how to live…this way."

My eyes shot open.

"I can't leave. Bella's…here. I have to…stay close." I gasped.

"Sweetie, no one is asking you to leave. You can do your rehab right here in Seattle. Do you remember what Carlisle said? He was offered a job here at this hospital. He is taking a leave of absence from his position in Duluth. We can move back, closer to the city.

"And when…I'm done with rehab...then what? You…can't stay around…here forever. It's too close…to Forks."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now we just need to concentrate on getting you out of this hospital."

Esme paused and leaned over me. Her hands pressed against the side of my face and I felt the power of her gaze, draw me in. I couldn't look away. I felt warmth in the core of my body; a tingling feeling that I got from time to time when one of the Cullens looked at me like that. I knew it was trick of their kind. I didn't fully understand it, but it made me want to please and no matter how much I wanted to protest and continue to argue against their staying, I found myself nodding my head ever so slightly. It was all I could manage…all I could move.

I was so caught up in gazing into Esme's kind gentle eyes, that I didn't pay much attention when the door of my room opened until I heard Esme's sharp intake of breath. My eyes flickered over her shoulder and I gasped.

It was Charlie and with him…Bella.

Author Notes:

I know it seems like this story is moving along at a snail's pace but it wouldn't feel that way if I was producing a chapter a week like I did in the beginning. Once again I will try write faster, but I won't make any promises anymore.

Next chapter will reveal what exactly Bella did to her mother.

Thank you for your patience.