My beta Dawn is the BEST. Hands down. I'm a lucky lady.

Bella.

Saturday morning greeted me with an indifferent blast of frigid air across my bare shoulders. The rain tapped a monotonous cadence against my window, and the world was bathed in grey: washed-out, flat. Wilted. My mouth was stale and my hair was plastered to my forehead, stiff from sweat and a fitful night.

But I was only vaguely aware of these things.

I had awoken from superficial sleep hours ago, yet to move a single muscle and unsure if I even could, with effort. I was prone on my back, legs motionless and flat on the bed, arms tucked limply at my side. I knew I was awake because my eyes blinked open and closed with soft clicks, staring at but not truly seeing the ceiling. My chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, soft sheets rasping against my skin with each inhalation. I presumed that hot blood pumped through my veins and fed the numb limbs that I couldn't guarantee were properly attached.

Laying and breathing, blinking and, for once, not thinking. Consciousness filled with soft static: like a movie on an old projection machine, the reel was continuing to spin empty frames and project black scratches on a white screen. The gentle flap, flap, flap of the film endlessly spinning in the projector, over and over and over…

Anytime a flicker of remembered color or sound or taste threatened to solidify into an actual memory or feeling, something inside swiftly stifled it and mechanically swept it away, snuffed out before it could manifest into anything that could remind, or elicit, or hurt. I was left to mercifully just… float.

Distantly, it occurred to me that a normal person might be scared, or at least mildly concerned about the fact that she hadn't had a single thought of substance for a good three hours now.

But not me.

If I'd been thinking about… well, anything at that moment, I might have reasoned that perhaps my over-stimulated brain couldn't process all of the information that I had been subjected to over the previous five days. My head needed a short respite, and a mild state of shock was just the ticket. This wasn't the first time I had been like this. In fact, it used to happen when I was much younger, more vulnerable, less hardened; mostly after I hadn't seen my mother or father for a few days, and always when I was alone.

However, in my current state of mentally-induced detachment… I realized that I wasn't alone this time. If last night had reminded me of anything, it was that the militant, deadened, cold Isabella was still there – she was always there, with me. On this cold, wet morning, I pictured her sitting in my old rocking chair in the far corner of my room, arms propped with tented fingers, watching my immobile figure. Waiting for me to crack… because we both knew that this blankness was temporary, the calm fleeting. The Bella in my bed, however, was content to simply lay in willful ignorance and enjoy this calm suspension of reality.

The truth was, nothing was easy, nothing was unfettered, and nothing was done without consequence. Hard truths were how I lived my life.

Too much, the quiet phrase was softly spoken in my head. Too much in just a week. And then last night… I hitched in a ragged breath, and felt something spark in my chest; an infinitesimal flare of heat, just enough to make me nervous.

I imaged Isabella rocking forward in anticipation, steel brown gaze and scowling like her father. I screwed my eyes up tight, trying to ignore the blooming anxiety...

But fuck, it was too late. It was starting.

Images began to take shape, vague at first; whispers of thin smoke and wisps of fuzzy hues and muted sounds… but they built slowly, pieces sliding into place, random objects materializing into shapes with definite lines, forming unwelcome memories…

Emmett was enormous as he was kind, his gestures sweet and futile. Charlie spoke dull grey words at me; no fire or comfort, just distance and regret. Jessica's voice was blackness, cruel red nails tapping on a smooth bar. Thumping music resonating in my whirling head as I leaned into Jasper's dry heat and we spun, spun around. Alice's brilliant smile and small frame, rhythmically shuffling, drunkenly gyrating next to me…

Water beaded off my window, rivulets of cold liquid cutting lines in the outside world. I rotated my gaze to the glass, took in the bleak morning sky as my fingers twitched to life and rubbed small, random lines in the slick sheets. Stupid fucking Isabella, meanwhile, leaned back, her grimace vaguely satisfied while I began to pant, hands digging deeper into the covers. I tried to brace myself against the living, moving fragments flickering behind my eyelids.

Okay, I remember now. All of it. Happy, you bitch? It was dumb, so fucking dumb. No more, okay? I was begging wordlessly, to no one, to everyone and everything. I drew in a deep breath, trying bleakly to find the still silence again…

But of course, it wasn't over. There was more.

Scotch burning my tongue. Wet pink lips sipping liquid fire. Green lightening and thick arms, low voice purring deep and pure sex…the smell of smoky leather and heat and man, a predator hypnotizing me from the cover of dim lights...

"Good."

A single word, bringing me to the brink. Looking out over the loneliness, over my iron walls and seeing him stand there… fuck, just the idea of him, his theoretical existence offering me a way out, an escape from this prison that I didn't even know I was fucking trapped in until a few days ago…

Edward.

Without further pretense, I was fucking overcome.

Pain and light and silver fire filling me, burning, threatening to burst out of my chest. I shut my eyes and whimpered softly into my empty room.

Sadness. Anger. And sweet merciful fuck… hot, throbbing, aching lust.

It all echoed in my head, my stomach so full of lead and acid that I could almost feel my skin stretch and tear… My body was just not big enough to handle… this…

I swallowed a strangled gasp as the rational side of me struggled, frantically clawed at sloped walls and willed my heart to slow… but I knew from experience that I was too far gone at this point. I hadn't had a panic attack in such a long time…

Oh god. It was everything that I denied myself, that I had convinced myself that I couldn't have… because I was born different and I fucking knew it. I had to have been… That pathetic knowledge — that I was unhappy because it was my birthright — was how I got through my lonely empty days living with Charlie and living without Renee…

Him. Him. Him. I couldn't breathe, I could only think.

Too much, too fast... With strained effort, my chest finally heaved once and I drew in sharp, cold air, countering with hot exhalation.

Something about him… He calms me with his presence and drives me to near insanity with his absence… and I don't know what to fucking do about it…

Last night was cruel. As awkward and resistant as I had been to the whole adventure, I had let myself believe that maybe… I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't inherently different than everyone else. Maybe I was capable of… that. Worthy of time. Worthy of… friendship. Happiness.

But no. Isabella wouldn't let that happen.

Unlike me, normal people could go out to a bar with her two best friends without having a meltdown and practically sprint out into the night. Normal people had a life outside of work, one that didn't involve running oneself to bloodied feet. They also usually had two parents who adored their children unconditionally; a mother who didn't choose another man's daughter over her own, and a father who loved his child always and not just when she did something extraordinarily, like a trick pony, or a dancing bear. Parents who taught their children how to care, and how to express affection and feel worthy of reciprocation.

Normal people could trust. Normal people could love, and believed that they could be loved in return.

I had, and was, none of those things.

And the difference? The fucking difference from last week to this shitty grey morning?

I cared now. I had let myself feel, and think, and look around, really look around… and my eyes had opened and I had realized I was alone. I had a good job and impeccable work ethic, a place to sleep and a best friend… but other than Alice, I didn't have anyone to love me… not like that.

I don't have him.

My internal monologue barreled on. And for some insane, pathetic reason… I want him. Him, a stranger, so fucking badly that I act like a buffoon in public and even my dreams are painted with streaks of jade green and copper…

Another rush of emotions hit me then, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I grit my teeth and mentally shoved at the thoughts of him, and his jaw, his granite body and perfect fucking crooked smile out of my mind…

Not him. No. I can't do this… I thought desperately. Last night was the final straw, the last of what I could take…

It felt like I was standing in ruins, atop heaping rubble of jewel-toned steel and razor-sharp disarray, frayed wires showering sparks and shattered glass. My life, wreckage at my feet, devastated by some natural disaster… or force of nature. Or sheer will. And now, again, I had to pick through the debris, to assemble the bits and pieces of my stupid, empty life and try to assemble a functional human being… I had to. I had no choice.

But goddammit, I could only deal with so much at one time.

This right here wasn't my normal bullshit: denying that anything was happening, convincing myself that I could somehow will my humanity away. Something was obviously fucking happening all right. But I needed to think. I needed to figure out what the fuck was happening to me… and I couldn't deal with him at the same time. I couldn't.

Lying in my bed, with my eyes dry and my body shuddering uncontrollably, I was acutely aware this was really happening to me; that I was already irrevocably… different.

Isabella leaned back and smiled, satisfied, as she did only when Bella was being punished.

I drew in a deep breath and managed to hold it. I steadied my hands, flexed my toes under my covers. I needed to calm down, and this lonely bed wasn't helping me achieve that end.

Without thinking, I hastily forced my legs out from under the warm blanket and into the chilly air, groaning at the pin prinks of buzzing heat that stabbed my limbs. My brain and my churning stomach begged me to stay in bed, or at least in the warm house… but I needed to focus. To feel something familiar. Something I knew.

I needed to burn, to ache by methods of my own choosing and not the way he ignited me.

I had begun to calm down by the time I poked my head into Alice's bedroom. She was lying on top of her covers, purple-clad legs askew and eyes smudged heavy black — a tiny, sleeping masked bandit. I tiptoed over and covered her small frame with her blanket. She moaned softly and snuggled her face into her pillow, and I smoothed spiky hair off her clammy forehead. Poor baby.

There was a folded note on the kitchen table, and I recognized Jasper's loopy, scrolling penmanship. It was addressed to me.

Bells –

I had a fuck-awesome time with you guys last night!

I checked to make sure that you were here when I brought Ali home. As you are aware, you were. You have hopefully taken a shower by now, BTW. You were disgusting.

Alice is probably going to be hurting tomorrow, I'm afraid. There was more drinking after you left… I'll spare you the gory details, but FYI: if you need me tomorrow, I'll be having my car detailed, as I think the smell of vodka and the little bits of bar pretzels and whatever else she had consumed will only be able to come out of my car upholstery by professional hands. (Alice, if by some miracle you wake up and you happen to read this first… even your puke is adorable. No worries.)

Isabella Marie Swan. Do not: I repeat, do not beat yourself up about last night. Having a good time once in a while is perfectly, okay? Okay?? Damn right.

Well, now that's settled: Same time, same place next Friday? (I'm wiggling my eyebrows right now, you just can't see me.)

With my warmest regards,
Jazz

I rubbed at the scrolling words with my thumb. Now that I was physically mobile and my heart had slowed from hummingbird- to human-speed, last night's events were clear and still bewildering. In spite of everything that had and would result from the outing — the disgrace, the self-loathing and the bitter humiliation that was sure to find me on Monday — it had been nice hanging out with Jazz, watching him tap his top hat with long fingers and spinning with him on a crowded dance floor. And I had loved seeing Alice let loose, giggling and throwing back drinks with fireworks in her eyes as she commanded me to enjoy myself.

And I hated, hated myself for liking it.

Stop. I shook my head, pulling myself away from my recollections and trying to stave off another bought of near-hysteria. Good Saturday so far. I had a panic attack for the first time in years, and I'm a fucking train-wreck right now. I swallowed acidic laughter, as I saw absolutely no humor in my current situation.

Before I left, I spread out Alice's favorite after-drinking meal on the table: Frosted Blueberry Poptarts and a spicy Bloody Mary.

I was running before I hit the sidewalk.

The rain soaked through my clothes almost instantly. My muscles sang sonatas and my feet kicked water and dirt and pavement as I cut though the downpour; my thoughts were jagged and broken pieces rattling between my ears. The past week had chipped away bits of me that had been locked in place for years, and now they bounced around to the rhythm of my pace.

Images from the past week flashed more steadily now: Burning scotch in my throat and a pair of tall, dark brothers. Emmett's thick fist and Mike's cheap cologne. My own wide eyes reflected in a silver elevator door, and the sunlight reflecting off the Seattle skyline on an unseasonably warm Friday.

But then, abruptly, it was thick thighs. The subtle definition of sloping pectoral muscles under a black dress shirt. Long lashes framing bottomless fucking green eyes, and fingers that attacked copper mess, each of which I wanted to taste one by one.

Fuck me. I bit back ragged frustration. Don't I have anything else going on in my life?

Now feeling like I had something to prove, I willed my thoughts to settle on the first subject that popped into my head: the subtle non-offer from the Cullens. I didn't really want to dwell on that subject either, but at least it didn't make me want to faint or cry or fuck it.

I decided that I resented the entire Cullen situation. Nothing had even been officially offered to me, but the seeds were planted and had taken root in the shadows of my mind. And pathetically… it was Carlisle's faith in me that I appreciated; more than I could express, more than I could really even understand. It was pitiful. As my heels pounded into the ground, it was all laid out before me: the Cullen Corporation represented peace and praise, warm opportunity and with no obvious strings…

But I knew I was bound to Swan Consulting, and all of its glorious shit. I was stuck.

And it's not goddamn fair.

I reached up and tugged on my ponytail, needing to touch something corporeal and attached to me. It was like I was gradually waking up from deep slumber, eyelids heavy and still laden with sleep, discombobulated and dream-confused…

I could call Charlie.

My feet skidded to an abrupt stop. Cold water cut rivers down my bent spine.

Charlie? Am I fucking serious?

I placed my hands on my knees and squeezed my eyelids together. Jesus, I wouldn't even know if he has the same number... which in itself is pretty fucked up.

Contacting my father was not an option, and it hadn't been for years. For what purpose, exactly? Support? Commiseration? Masochism, more like it.

It's a difficult thing, accepting that your father doesn't really love you. The part of me that still cared about him had been locked away long ago, a nerve deadened by distance and time. Now I want to call him? Out of the blue? A call would be undoubtedly unwelcome. Futile.

Then maybe I could call Renee.

I actually threw my hands up in the air, tipping my head back to the grey sky. Water ran down my cheeks like tears, plugging my ears. I laughed bitterly.

Are you kidding me? Jesus fucking Christ, Isabella.

I hadn't spoken to Renee in over two years, and that conversation had been brief, one-sided, useless. The postcards had stopped coming shortly after that, as well… not long after the wedding invitation had arrived, and I let my silence serve as my RSVP. Declines with regret. She had finally stopped trying after that, and I told myself that I was grateful.

As I stood in the pouring rain, with my arms hanging limply at my side and a painful smile cutting across my face, I considered for a moment that I was actually, truly losing my grip on reality. In just one short week, I had gone from being able to control every thought, bottle every emotion and remain a fucking professional, to having crazy, hurtful, impossible thoughts bombard me every two seconds and being driven to panic over a beautiful stranger. It was fucking frustrating.

I couldn't call Charlie. I couldn't call Renee. I couldn't have friends in the office and I sure as hell couldn't have Edward fucking Masen.

I held my breath.

I will not cry. No way. Not over this. I will not. Fucking. Cry…

I silently whimpered, pleading for escape, salvation from the slow horror I could feel creeping steadily back into my throat.

Since running wasn't cutting it for me anymore, I needed to find another distraction, something different to find reprieve. I certainly had some healthy options: I could go home and crawl into bed with Alice, snuggle next to her and drink our Saturday away. I could call Jasper and we could go to lunch, perhaps to the zoo in the rain and people watch at the bus station… anything, really. I could call Angela and ask her to meet me for drinks. I could dance or sing, paint my room or bake muffins or just fucking love myself and stop. doing. this…

I had no idea how far I had run, or for how long. I didn't care. I turned and ran hard home.

The sky wept. I did not.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nineteen floors up, the Seattle skyline in front of me matched my mood: subdued, somber, lonely.

I sipped a cup of Earl Grey and allowed myself one brief flash of warmth, one tug in my stomach from remembered thoughtfulness, sweet dancing and velvet words… but then it was back to work. I had found my numbness, to a certain extent, my familiarity. It was pathetically comforting to know I still had something that could dull the ache and make me forget how messed up I really was, if only for a moment.

I sat alone, and worked, because I had nowhere else to go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I didn't see Alice until Sunday evening. She was on the phone when I walked in the door, and she quickly hung up when I entered our living room.

"Bella! Where in the holy fuck have you been?"

"Working." I sat down heavily on the couch and rubbed my eyes.

Alice sat down next to me, curling her legs under her long gauzy skirt. "Seriously? Did you really have to go in all weekend?"

I nodded, my fist still assaulting my closed eyes. "I have a lot to do, Ali. I had to make some calls, had to do some filing I'd been putting off, had to -"

"- hide."

My teeth snapped together, her gentle observation knocking my words clean out of my mouth. Her face was calm as she watched my jaw work.

"- work." I finished cooly. Our silence was wary, prickling with gentle tension. I sighed. "Look, I had a really intense week, and Friday night was just… a lot to handle. I needed to focus for a little bit, so I went to work. That's all." I hoped it would be enough to settle the subject. What I wasn't prepared for was the sweet sadness that clouded her brown eyes.

Alice asked me softly, "Didn't you have a good time on Friday?"

"Babe, I…" She looked so damn distressed, and I felt awful. I bit my lip and tugged at my bangs. "Of course I did. I loved seeing you and Jasper. But… it was a lot. For me. I'm not… I don't think I can do that again."

"But it will be easier next time," she insisted. "Jasper and I have already talked about it. Next Friday…"

I shook my head. "I can't promise anything. I might be really busy next Friday…" I let my voice trail away, because my words were pointless. She wasn't buying what I was trying to sell her, so I simply shook my head. "I had enough fun this weekend to last me a while, Ali."

Her silence was contemplative, pregnant with unspoken opinion. I waited, and inevitably she pressed on.

"But were you happy this weekend, Bells? Did going in to work make you happy?"

"I can be happy later." I sounded a bit short, but my patience was wearing thin as my lacquered exterior. "But now…" I sighed. "Now I just need to work, and get through whatever is happening to me."

Our eyes were locked together, her gaze shifting back and forth between my pleading, tired eyes. The sad look on her face hurt me… but I didn't have it in me to dwell on anything right now.

"How are you feeling?"

I almost giggled as I shrugged, glad that the conversation seemed to be turning. "Fine. Exhausted. Uptight." I smiled weakly. "The usual."

"Mmm hmm." Her brown eyes were soulful and dynamic, melted brown sugar and cinnamon. "How are you feeling?" she asked again.

I felt my defensives automatically rise, but I chuckled at her, still futilely hoping I could divert her attention. "Well, I'm better than Jasper's leather interior, I can tell you that much." I looked anywhere but at the ball of energy sitting at my side. Leave it alone, you evil nymph.

"But Bella…" She is not going to let this go.

"Alice, I'm sorry, okay?" I rubbed my temples. "I don't mean to sound so harsh, but I am finally exhausted to the point of not beating myself up every two minutes and I don't want to get all worked up again. I'm tired and I need for you to please, please give me a break here. I didn't mean to be gone all weekend, I had so much to do -"

She nodded again. Her eyes were wide and always expressive. "I know."

I looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "You know?"

She nodded. "Yes."

I waited. "Well?" Alice remained silent. I rolled my eyes. "I know there's more. Out with it."

Alice's face was serene, sweet. Patient. "You were punishing yourself."

I hunched forward, the muscles in my shoulders tensing. "Punishing myself?" I looked at my hands, which were twisting in my lap, and laughed a mirthless chuckle. I felt shaken and exposed. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because," she said plainly, "You were angry at yourself for having a good time Friday night. You were smiling and laughing and dancing and really impressing the fuck out of Jazz and I… but then I think something happened — which I really hope you fucking get around to telling me about at some point — and then you needed to go re-convince yourself that you don't deserve to be happy like that. You got scared. So you ran." Her tone was mater-of-fact, simply stating facts… and it almost made the situation sadder. I had no defense.

"Your runs aren't working anymore, are they?"

She is blowing my fucking mind right now. "What do you mean?"

"After your epic sprints, you used to come home… blank. You eyes would be vacant and your voice empty, like you left pieces of yourself along your route. But you're not empty right now, are you? You're agitated, almost jumpy... You can't stop feeling." I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling. "Bella, that's a good thing! Don't you get it? It's painful because it's real, and it's something that your body and mind and heart want so badly… to feel, and touch…" Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh on my shoulder with every emphatic shake. "You were fucking awesome on Friday! You were totally funny with that Clydesdale of a man who bought us the shots…" She smirked and nudged me with her elbow. "Plus, I watched you at the bar when you went to go get drinks, when that hot computer nerd was…"

"No," I practically growled. Her eyes went wide with surprise. I vehemently shook my head.

"No. Please, just… don't talk about him." I pressed the heel of my hands into my eyebrows. "I just… I can't. There has been so much… I just don't think…" Fuck! I couldn't find the words. I could only look at her, and her expression held such deep concern that it made my heart hurt. "I can't deal with him right now, too."

"Listen to me." Alice's voice was more subdued than before; I could tell she was trying to back down a bit before I could completely shut down on her. She reached out and took one of my hands, clasping it in both of hers. "I know this is hard for you. I can see it. But Bella…" Her tiny grasp tightened. "You can't keep hiding. You can't keep running. And you have to deal with all of it."

I felt a swell of love for my Alice. She always validated me, no matter how silly or unreasonable I knew I was being. She is destined for sainthood.

"I don't know what else to do." I absolutely hated how broken my voice sounded. However, with Alice, I never had any other option but to tell her the truth. "I don't know how to do… anything, anymore. Except work. And run. And be awkward."

"Sweetie," Alice laughed, "you just need to be you, you silly, beautiful nut job. You need to feel what comes, and participate in your surroundings. Stop sprinting through the day and look, really look… You need to live life, not just survive it."

It's just that simple.

"I don't know how." I repeated, my voice shamefully small. "God, I sound like such a fucking idiot, Alice, but… I don't know how to be normal. Love… shit, I don't even know what love even looks like! I never learned. My… my life… I just never learned how. They never taught me..." Fuck me, and now I'm babbling. I'm so. fucking. weak.

But Alice, my wonderful Alice… she understood, and shook her head.

"That's horseshit. Isabella, I know how tough it was for you… with your Mom and Dad. I know what happened, and how you grew up… how it was between you guys. But Bella… you're wrong. You do know how to love." She ignored the pessimism that was practically seeping out of my pores.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"And do you love Jasper?"

I briefly considered my answer. "…Yes." I really did.

"And you did have fun the other night, correct?"

"Alice… ah, fuck. Yes. I did," I relented.

Her smile was self-satisfied. "I've been waiting for this, Bella. Waiting for you to wake up. It took you fucking long enough… but I think there is hope for you yet." Her smile was endearing and infuriating, just like her. "And I figured it would be a messy process, but Jesus Christ, woman. You look like shit." We both laughed, and my heart felt lighter. "Have you been sleeping?"

I shrugged. "Not well, to be honest. I have been… (scared to dream) …stressed out, I suppose."

Alice's fingers lightly traced my cheek, and I turned to my head to meet her dancing eyes, all sweet spices and adoration. "You can do the things you want, Bella Swan. But you have to let them happen. You have to work with your life, and not against it."

As much as I hated that she sounded like a self-help novel… She was right. I wasn't my father, and I sure as hell wasn't my mother. Like my best friend had said: I was Bella goddamn Swan, and I had to be open to what was happening to me... I didn't have a choice, really. Or I might very well go insane.

"And this guy, Edward, he's obviously part of this, too…"

Except for that.

"I said no." My voice was hard again, and while I truly felt bad with how quickly her eyes darkened, but this was non-negotiable. "Not him. I'm serious." My breathing was already picking up, and I could feel my heart beginning to race. "I'm not ready for him."

Her lilting voice went silent. She let go of my hand, and my skin was pebbled where her warmth was now mssing. She stood with her back to me, and I had to strain to hear her.

"Bella…" Her shoulders rose and fell once, as if she had heaved a great sigh. "You are going to have to trust someone other than me. Soon. And personally, I think it's going to be him."

Alice's intuition was usually so spot on and her foresight so uncanny that I knew it would take a great deal of convincing to make her see that she was wrong about this… but she didn't even have to turn around to see my mouth open; she simply held up her hand. I stayed silent.

"Never mind, you stubborn mule. I'm done. I don't want to argue with you. I just want you to know that I love you, and I want you to be happy. That's all."

I wished I could cry, to show my dearest friend that her words did affect me, that I heard her and valued her psychic predictions and irrational opinions... but I couldn't do that. Instead, I sat there, dry and cold, willing her to just read my mind and know how I felt about her.

"Are you hungry?"

I leaned my head back on the sofa, shut my eyes. I was drained, exhausted, half-crazed… but I felt just a little better.

"I'm starving."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday.

I found myself staring at the exact same reflection I had faced exactly one week prior. Eyes wide, hair knotted tight behind my head, fingers drifting aimlessly over starched cotton and tweed.

Maybe no one even remembers I was there on Friday, I told myself. Everyone was drinking and talking and dancing… I bet no one was even watching me at that point.

My stomach flipped and flopped, and my paler-than-normal likeness shook her head with me.

Sure. And Jasper is vanilla, and Alice isn't excitable.

I'm screwed.

The door slid open and my navy blue heels lead the way into the lion's den. Due to a terribly timed traffic delay I wasn't as early as I normally was, so there were actual bodies lining the path to my desk. Bodies with staring eyes and hushed whispers.

I took a deep breath. Not even risking a glance in Angela's direction, I walked straight to my corner, heeding no anyone else in the room. I kept my head high, eyes fixed on the smooth mahogany. Mike is here already, I noticed. Of course. I accidently took in his hard glare, which was positively murderous. Steady, Swan.

I saw sweeping movement from the right, and I automatically turned my head to see Emmett enthusiastically waving at me with his tree branch of an arm. I felt a light spray of sweat mist my forehead. Oh sweet jesus. My cheeks burned crimson and my head had swiveled forward again before the bronze mop next to him could finish turning my way.

I couldn't see him now. Couldn't even think about him now… I just have to get through today.

I tried to think of Alice, her gentle encouragement and faith in my ability to function like a human being. I wanted so badly to stay positive, to wrap her ever-present hope around me and wear it like armor… but I also knew that I was teetering right on the precipice of reason and insanity, and I feared that his beautiful, irrational, electric hold on me would push me over the edge…

I kept my eyes down, and tried to pretend like couldn't feel the murmurs around me and I wasn't the laughing stock of the office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My morning was lost to long, torturous phone conversations. I had been concentrating on the Cullens for a week solid, and I needed to touch bases with my other clients. That, and I needed to keep my hands busy, as my fingers were inclined to attack my poor, unassuming bangs… or perhaps to lunge and sink into bronze curls, a terrifyingly real possibility when Edward had dared to walk by my desk and give me a small smile.

I carved a wooden smile as I made small talk.

"Mr. Stephens, that is hilarious!" I trilled, wincing at my own saccharine tone. Blech. "Well sir, I will be sure to get those estimates to you within the next two days. No no, please, let me take care of it, I insist."

I heard footsteps approach my desk. For a brief moment I actually hoped for Mike; I needed a good reminder of why I wasn't speaking to anyone. My smile unnaturally wide, I pushed out, "I look forward to seeing you next week. Goodbye, sir,"

Reluctantly hanging up the phone, I took a deep breath and looked up, expecting to see powder blue eyes and gelled blonde hair.

I was more than a little surprised to see that it was Charlie Swan standing at my desk.

My spine went rigid. "Mr. Swan?" Charlie almost never visited me at my desk. What the fuck is wrong? Slight alarm stung my throat."Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, Bella. There is." I narrowed my eyes, confused. Charlie leaned over, his knuckles resting on my desk and partially closing the gap between us. His stance was oddly intimate, and his tone gruff, dusty sawdust.

"I wanted to speak with you about your conduct as of late."

My conduct? Icy panic dribbled down my spine and my stomach clenched terribly, but my mask stayed solid. I never flinched. I cleared my throat to avoid gasping.

"I'm sure I don't understand what you mean, Mr. Swan."

He squinted down at me, scrutinizing my calm demeanor. I sat straight and marble, but underneath my thin façade, I was quaking.

"I have been informed that you were… fraternizing the other night, and drew a bit of attention to yourself."

My mouth twitched. I forced my jaw to remain clamped tight, but I couldn't help the involuntary query that slipped out from between my thinned lips.

"By whom?"

He ignored my question. "Be careful, Bella. You are an employee of this company, and a very visible one that that. I expect you to act appropriately."

Anger flared bright red in my chest and burned my face, betraying my faux chill. I was too pissed to care.

"Do you lecture all of your employees about their private lives, Mr. Swan? Or just me?" I struggled to keep my voice even.

His stony stare never wavered. "Only those whose antics have the ability to embarrass the good name of this company."

My chest tightened. How dare you. Bitter resentment flooded my teeth. I could have spat acid. A face flashed before my eyes: young and free, unlined and kind. I could hardly see the resemblance to the man before me now, who was questioning the very ethics that he taught me.

"Please don't worry about your company's reputation. Or your good name. They are both quite safe, I assure you." I hesitated. "You should know that." I hated that the falter in my hushed words.

The space between us was deafening. Brown stares battled, daring the other one to say something real.

Without another word, Charlie Swan turned and walked away.

I looked around the room, feeling exposed. The dissonance was deafening. My brain went into auto-pilot; I picked up the phone and sank into myself, thinking about nothing but the ringing in my ear.

"Hello, Ms. Thomas?" I made myself smile. People could hear a smile in your voice. Angling my body toward the expansive window, I shut my eyes tightly, as if I could will the rest of the world away.

"This is Isabella Swan… yes ma'am, I've been just great, thank you. I was calling to see if I can do anything to make today easier for you..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Beneath my desk, I stretched my sore legs. This had been the longest Monday in the history of Mondays, and I had spent it speaking in a false voice and ignoring pointed stares and whispers. I was anxious to get home and go for a run… but maybe I would ask Alice to come with me. I wanted human contact, needed company to remind me that I myself was warm and malleable, not made from corporate-pressed plastic.

I want a hug, dammit. I rolled my eyes. Fuck. What am I, eight years old?

As I stood and gathered my purse and coat, I realized that it was past 6pm and I was once again alone in the bullpen. I think I my internal clock is busted. I lose track of time so easily now… I felt like I had been living in this office for the last week solid.

I stood before the elevator doors, reaching out to press the button leading to my escape… My hand froze the moment I saw Edward emerge from the backlit doorway of the server room.

I had successfully avoided interacting with him all day. I was busy struggling to contain the simmering humiliation from the other night, and my run-in with Charlie had left me tired and defeated. I shouldn't face Edward now — my defenses were weakened, my wall cracked and sagging. I obviously aware that I would have to speak with him eventually, but today just wasn't a good day: I was focusing on what Alice had said, trying not to plan, or over-analyze… just making it through…

What does all that that even mean, Bella?

I shook my head. Not now, Rational Thoughts. No time for you right now.

I stood, frozen in place, wondering if I could wish myself invisible…

Green eyes stole my breath.

As gravity itself seemed to dictate, Edward approached me with long, slow strides. His grin was undemanding and stunning, totally at odds with my churning insides. He stopped in front of me, the lobby quiet and dark around us. The air snapped and my face grew predictably hot.

"So I ended up ordering a neat scotch on Friday night," his voice was low, effortlessly seductive and smiling, "and I believe I owe my rough Saturday morning to you."

I couldn't meet his eyes… but lower was no less distracting: his green shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a few precious inches of pale skin. I could see a soft patch of hair peeking out, lying atop hard collarbone. My fingers twitched.

"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Masen," I said to his chest. My voice sounded far-away, even in my own ears. I tried to look purposeful as I smoothed the grey peacoat that was folded over my arm, hoping that I was effectively hiding the trembling in my limbs.

Please just walk away, Edward. Please let me go… let me run…

But he remained standing there, only a few feet from me, holding me tight with charged silence. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face and I stubbornly fought the urge to seek them, to absorb the warm comfort he gave me and to thrill at the energy he fed me…

"Is everything alright, Ms. Swan?"

His voice was sweet, like honey, and I tasted it on my lips. My eyes whipped up to his, taking no heed of my determination to remain distant. He was watching me so carefully… and just like that, I was caught. His.

Oh no.

I felt something splintering inside of me. Words gurgled from deep within, rushed up my throat, caught in my lips… I opened my mouth, closed it. Clutched my coat in shaking hands.

I wanted him.

Just… god, just him. To feel his smooth skin, his insane hair, to hear the buttons of his shirt pop under my fingers and feel his warm arms encircle me, support my weight… I wanted everything. Every stupid feeling and instinct that I had tried to deny toward him today came rushing in, filled my head and heart. My breathing sped, my heart sputtered.

He must have noticed, because a look of mild concern crossed his beautiful features, and I regretted the fact that I had caused the unease marring his marble features. Cheekbones like his… eyes and lips and long straight nose… they should never look anything but serene, peaceful, flawless. I ruined his perfection with my confusing existence, where he brightened mine. It wasn't right.

"No. Yes. I..." I stuttered, horrified that I was actually making sounds. My wide eyes flittered back and forth between his, frantically, too quickly. I was completely humiliated that this was happening, that I could feel myself beginning to spin and fall down, right in front of him, in the lobby of my father's company…

But there was no censoring myself with him. My body simply wouldn't let me.

"I don't know if I'm okay." My whisper was barely audible, but he heard me. Of course he did. His eyes penetrated mine, searching. Seeking. His smooth forehead was furrowed with worry; I wanted desperately to smooth the lines with my fingertips.

"What? What's wrong?" His body twitched toward me, but he stopped. A part of me hoped he was fighting even a fraction of the same war I was.

"I don't know," I repeated. My voice was quiet, strained. "This is… just very… hard for me."

"You can tell me." His tone was urgent, laced with sweet concern. I flinched at his words. The creases in his forehead deepened, and his hand twitched before pressing flat into his thigh. "Please."

How? How could I vocalize pure energy? Panic-inducing need? Electricity so intense that I forgot who and what I truly was when he was near me? That I wanted him to release me, to let me go back to being hollow again… but at the same time I was dreading the time when he will do just that? How could I spin words to properly explain this confusing, impossible, undeniable… thing that was happening between us?

It's not happening between "us." It's only happening to you, dummy. I thought miserably. Because you're acting like a crazy person over a co-worker, remember?

Leave it alone, Isabella whispered. Leave. You're standing in the fucking lobby, shaking and panting like a crazy person…

But my legs wouldn't listen. For some fucking reason I was compelled to give him the truth… some part of the truth. God help me.

"Being here," I nearly whispered. My face burned with shame as the truth escaped my lips, wildly inappropriate and pathetically simple. "Being me. Being with you."

And I knew I was being ridiculous and pathetic and definitely not making any sense, and I knew I was being cryptic and insanely confusing… and the most fucked up part was that, for the first time in a long time… I was being honest, too.

And I couldn't even muster the courage to fucking look away.

Edward just stared at me, emerald eyes flickering back and forth. My mouth was filled with cotton and my throat worked as I painfully tried to swallow gravel. My ears were filled with the sounds of my own ragged breathing and crippling inadequacies.

The worst part of this whole moment was that I was so horribly, horribly aware of how crazy this looked.

He doesn't even know me, and I'm going through some kind of weird emotional awakening thing right before his gorgeous eyes …. I wanted to collapse to the ground, to bury my face in my arms and beg him to go, to please just leave me here, at my desk and alone, where I belonged… I'm crumbling right in front of him. Something, anything put me out of my misery.

I shut my eyes and wished for him to just not be there when I opened them...

"I want you here."

His voice caressed my eyelids and willed them to open again. My heart pounded against my ribs, fluttering like a caged bird struggling for freedom. He held me with his gaze as he attacked his poor, impossible, wonderful hair.

"And you…" He laughed softly, almost sadly. "I don't know about being you, but being around you… it's easy. Amazing. For me."

I couldn't find my breath.

"But as far as you being with me…" He paused. "That's something I want to be easy for you. I want you to be… comfortable. With me."

And I wanted that too. More intensely than anything I had every wanted in my life… more than work, more than a run, more than to see my father or understand my mother… and I wanted to tell him that, to smooth his worried forehead and soften his tight tone. But I couldn't. I couldn't. Not right now.

"I don't think I can." The truth was plain, sad, gut-wrenching. We had barely exchanged a dozen sentences before tonight, and my pitiful confession was threatening to rip me apart at the seams. I barely knew him, but here I was confessing, supplicating myself at his feet. I craved salvation, absolution… and I wanted him to grant it to me, to save me with his lips and fingertips.

He didn't move, save for the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest. The silence stretched on between us, ballooning, expanding. My face burned; it was all too much. Again. As usual.

"Can you try?"

His words touched me, gently loosened my clenched stomach; both the question itself and his earnest, sincere, beautiful voice. I could feel myself leaning toward him, into his understanding and electric buzz. I was being irrational, raw, naked and weak… and he was there with me. Soothing me. Pleading with me. Making me feel human, and not like the damaged thing I saw in the elevator door.

Edward took another step toward me, his broad body closing the gap between us in the dark. I sucked in my breath as he released his in a rush, feeling his heat against my skin, under my clothes. My nipples instantly pebbled at his proximity, my arousal automatic and completely improper for my current situation. My hands shook at my sides.

"I just want to get to know you, Ms. Swan. I'm willing to do what I need to make that happen. And I would really like for you to try, too."

"Try what?" I felt stupid, deliberately obtuse. I was lost and found at the same time.

A smile fell from his lips, brilliant and soft and crooked.

"Just… try."

And I knew.

His words were indefinite. There was no spoken promise, no blatant declaration of intent. But as I stood there, dizzy and confused and attempting to keep my gasping inaudible… I felt a wave of white validation wash over me.

Maybe, just maybe, he understood a fraction of what I felt around him. The pull. The devastating need to see him, to be around him. At least in part.

I blinked. I had no idea what it meant, or what I was agreeing to… but I nodded my head.

Edward took another step forward. He pressed in closer to me; I had to remind myself to breath. My head grew lighter, my vision more clear: I could see freckles and stubble and pores, and the throbbing pulse point in this neck, just below his ear, blue veins crisscrossing under smooth pale skin… his fucking heat, green material stretched over his hard, muscled chest just inches from me… my heart threatening to explode out of my chest. I was so afraid he could hear it.

Edward's hand came up, drifting torturously close: over my arm, past my shoulder, sweeping past my neck... I could feel the muted fire lick my skin…

He pushed the elevator button behind me.

I released a ragged breath into his neck, hot and humid and far too loud. The door immediately dinged and slid open and his lithe frame walked by my prone one, gently brushing my slack arm. I choked back a soft moan as I heard him enter the elevator.

"Goodnight, Ms. Swan."

The doors slid shut.

I stood silently for a long time afterwards, knowing that in that moment, something… something had changed.

I just don't have the words to describe how much I appreciate you guys. Every single one of you who have read, reviewed, or favorited/alerted this story... you make my heart happy, and I thank you.

Progress?

As always: Twilighted thread: http : //(dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=5250

Twitter: ahlthyaddiction. (and say hi, for godssake!)

Thank you thank you thank you.

-ahealthyaddiction

(PS: next update miiiight be a lil' quicker coming than normal… just sayin')