Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: After the vertical line, the story shifts into Edward telling about what happened. It is not in his point of view, but rather what he is telling the therapist without having to use all of those quotation marks. Also, those of who are also reading Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers, fear not, there will be updates, but will alternate between this story's chapters as well. Thanks for reading!

Reasons To Be Missed

Chapter 2- Lies and Promises

Edward sank back into the couch, mentally preparing himself fr the tale I presumed. It had been made clear to me, not only through his words but body language as well, that this story was one of painful memories that he normally wished not to dwell on. With pen in hand, I began my notes. Before his words began to flow, I scribbled a brief description of the conversation that had led to what I considered to be a breakthrough in his mental rehabilitation. And although this was inspired by the phone call that he received out of random, he had agreed to talk about it.

This could very well be the link to his past, the link to a healthy mind and sociability that he had explained to me in previous sessions that he wanted, but felt incapable of having for reasons he would not elaborate upon. Without a doubt in my mind, this had to be the disturbance that gave him nightmares, or no sleep at all, the disturbance that had given him a somewhat solitary existence with only acquaintances, not allowing himself to bond deeply with another person. He was without a true, lasting friendship, something that he implied was essential to his being. No more did he search for love than for friendship, and my intuition told me that he and this Bella woman he spoke of, his ex-girlfriend, was something more than just a high school sweetheart; they had something more, a lot more, and he ached for it to be present in his life once again.

My pen was dragged across my legal pad, the blue ink contrasting with the yellow pages. Through my hand words formed, and my theories were drawn onto the paper.

Name: Edward Cullen

Sex: Male

Age : 24

Occupation: Composer for Summit Entertainment

History of Medications: Was on anti-depressants when he first came to me four years ago, was taken off of them one year later.

History of mental illnesses: None, short history of depression with no intention of suicide

Family: Only child, close with mother and father who live in Forks, Washington

Reason for seeking therapy: Unknown, presumed to be the previous loss of extremely close friends and girl who he might have loved in high school, detrimental to his mental health

Edward turned, and for the first time stretched out along the couch, laying his head on the pillow beside the armrest. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and told me of his life.

"At first it was really...really great. After Bella woke up from her coma, everything started to piece itself back together. Only a few days after she was walking around, was eating and drinking normally, and even had her color back. Of course, the hospital had to keep her there for a while for observation, but with my dad being one of her doctor the visiting hours were stretched a little. Those days were so strange, so wonderful because we were finally together, but so abnormal that it felt like it never even happened."

"What went on during those two weeks, Edward?"

"Where do I even begin? So many things happened."

"Just start at the beginning."

"The beginning. Alright. Well, after Bella woke up, they had to run all these tests which took hours. No one was allowed to be with her during them, except for her father of course. Basically I spent the days pacing around her room with Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice. I was a wreck, as you can imagine.

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"Edward, please, walking holes in the floor isn't going to make the time go by faster. She's going to be okay, trust me." Rosalie said as she sat on the bed beside Emmett. She leaned her head on his shoulder, looking completely disheveled. She hadn't washed her hair in a couple days, and had it tied up in a messy knot on her head. Wearing no make up, she looked bare, pretty, but just different than the other times that I had seen her. Dark circles framed her eyes, as they did with the rest of us as well. The florescent lights cast these strange, artificial shadows over us that made our skin look pallid and sick.

The small room could easily be crossed in only a few steps, and would not suffice for pacing, though I couldn't bear to leave the room where she would return to.

"She's right, Edward. You have to keep yourself together for her, if not for you." Jasper said from the corner he was leaning in. Alice sat by his legs in a chair with her knees to her chest, making her appear smaller than she already was. Her eyes followed me back and forth across the room, looking as if she was trying to decode something, although I wasn't sure what it was. Jasper, Rosalie and I had told our story to the others, even Emmett.

Though we disassociated ourselves with Emmett, Jasper and I had stopped trying to keep on the opposite side of the space from. The murderous glare we remembered had not once returned, and we were, for the most part, convinced that we would not see it again.

"I know you are trying to help, but there's nothing you can say to help me." I whispered softly, and without insult. Suddenly, the room began to shrink around me, and claustrophobia tightened my chest. My blood began to race through my veins, and it became evident that I needed some fresh air. Though I did not want to go outside the hospital in case Bella came back, I decided that if I stood outside the room, and leaned against the wall that I would have sufficient breathing room and still see the girl that I loved without delay.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in the sterile air, calming myself with the medical scents. With my father having worked here since I was young, he always retained this sort of smell that had the essence of the hospital without the creepiness of knowing that people died there.

I heard the door open to my right, and opened my eyes to see Emmett walking toward me. The sight of him still intimidating to me, I inched away subtly. For a moment we stood in silence, while I cringed at what his purpose was.

"Edward? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something."

"What about?" My voice was raspy with the lack of sleep, and I spoke slowly with the difficulty I had in concentrating, even on what I wanted to say.

"About...about what happened." This was what I dreaded.

"About how you bashed my face in and nearly gave Jasper a hole in his head?" He jerked his head away from me, seeming disturbed by my words. It was my full intention.

"Well, yes. I just – I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am..."

"Emmett, you don't have to..."

"Yes." He said as he walked in front of me. "Yes I do. I can't tell you how guilty I have felt, and maybe I can never make you understand, but I can't let you think that I wouldn't give anything to be able to take it back."

"You can never take it back." I said menacingly. Emmett was quiet for a moment, and then spoke softly as I had before.

"When I –– what did I do to you?" He asked solemnly, averting his eyes from mine to the ground.

"Why d'you care?" I asked absentmindedly.

:"I just wanted to know if I hurt you...I mean really hurt you."

"You 'just wanted to know'?" My rage began to boil within my veins, my palms curled into fists. I pushed myself from the wall and craned my neck to be even with Emmett's. "Fine. Want to know what you did? You broke my nose and nearly broke my cheekbone you son of a bitch! And you nearly knocked Jasper into a vegetative state!" Emmett's dark eyes widened, and he pressed himself to the wall to widen the gap between the two of us. Imagine me intimidating Emmett Tucker! "But that was only the physical pain. You humiliated us! In front of everyone! All because you were too much of a brute to consider that you might be wrong!"

Silence over came us, and the mammoth man beside me crossed his arms across his bulky chest, making the muscles bulge out of his arms as if there weren't enough skin to cover them. Hanging his head he spoke again.

"I know there probably isn't anything I can do or say, maybe not now, maybe not ever but I can't let things stay the way they are. Other than Rosalie, or like, the safety of the world I would give anything to take it back, or to make it up to you, or both." I turned to face him, wishing I could have been a few inches taller so as I might be able to compete with his height. Height was an intimidation factor; I knew. Not because of others being intimidated by me, but rather by the likes of which scared me. Including Emmett. Simply because I had a good, personal reason to loathe Emmett Tucker, and to consider him a first-rate jackass did not mean that he still could not punch the lights out of me. The only difference there would be was the lack of broken glasses.

"Do you seriously believe that you are in the position to ask me to forgive you? Are you kidding me?" Reminding myself of where I was, I tried to keep control of my voice, the volume of it mostly. To be truthful, I didn't give a crap what anyone heard me say. What I did care about was who, and my father was nowhere to be seen. I expected Emmett to go off and sulk, or to send his fist into my temple and finish the job, but instead I found that he did something entirely different. Something logical, mature even.

"I am not asking you to forgive me. You shouldn't. I am asking you to believe me." For the first time, he looked deeply into my eyes, revealing a widening pool of thought into his dark irises. His face was stern, troubled, weak and yet secure in what he said all at the same moment. His posture was straight, but something within him, something he did not attempt to shield from the world, was crumbling away. It was like a diamond hidden within a large, chalky capsule that fizzed away in a glass of water. As the particles dissolved, the sudden uprise of bubbles clouded the water for a moment, fogging up all reality into distortion, until the moment came when the fizz cleared, and the diamond lay unobstructed at the bottom of the glass. Sparkling, silent, hard. Rare.

Was there something to be liked about this man? This man who I had once thought, most likely with accuracy in my prejudice, had the mentality of a two-year old who drank coffee and sugar, and the emotion of telephone pole, had become someone that no longer intimidated me in size. He intimidated me in thought.

Guilt overwhelmed me. I tried to convince myself that this was completely illogical for me, being that it was he that was rightfully ashamed, but I could not help but think that I had been overly cruel. That was a trait of mine that I wished I left behind in that salon so long ago with those few inches of hair and miserable clothing. It was the one thing I could not shed; my pigheadedness, and more importantly, my anger.

Maybe it would get better as Bella recovered, and we all became normal again. Maybe.

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"Of course, that would be the thing to bite me in the ass later on, pardon my French. Sometimes I can't help but think that if I had learned to cool my temper that things wouldn't have been as bad."

As I absorbed this conversation replayed for me, I was shaken awake by the possibility of yet another breakthrough in his reclusive personality.

"Do you still feel this rage, Edward?" I asked my client. He let a small, breathy chuckle escape his lips, but not in the joking way it would be assumed to be in. It was a dark laugh, brought on by what I assumed to be yet another memory.

"Yes." I looked at him skeptically. Edward Cullen had always been a man of reason, and for him to act on impulse was a reaction relatively unknown to me. Yet seeing as this habit was not one of which to be proud, I had no reason to believe otherwise. I also have never seen this man with any passion in his soul, the fuel which ignites the raging fire. He had been dormant so long within himself, no flame had been released to burn. I don't believe I ever felt my heart break as it did back then, and my childhood could easily compete with those of some of my highest prioritized clients. It was because I assumed that this pain was dealt to me to help others, and I forgave the world for that, but for Edward, it seemed complete torture. He was a good man. He always was, and still was somewhere deep beneath the layers of scar tissue around his heart.

"Don't sign me up for anger management classes just yet, Dr. Schtefensen. I have it under control."

"Well, that is good to hear. So, Emmett asked you to believe that he never wanted to hurt you, but did not except forgiveness?":

"That's right."

"Did you forgive him anyway?" I asked, genuinely interested in his story; it was unlike any other I had seen before. It could be a novel with all of its complexity, most of which I did not even know.

"Not to him, not at first. I kind of forgave him a little while after he talked to me, once I stopped denying it. I wanted to hate him, I did, but I couldn't. I don't even know what it was, but it did not seem unreasonable to do so. My heart believed him, and that was good enough for me. Besides, I knew Rosalie would keep him on a tight leash. She could only change so much, and I knew she would continue to sort of keep charge. I think that was what attracted him to her – her strength. Let's just say she would not allow anyone other than a professional masseuse walk over her, and even then, she made them earn their tips."

"That is a very healthy thing to do in those sorts of circumstances. Do you believe in second chances?" I asked him. He sat there for a moment, deciding on his answer.

"Not anymore. Second chances are one thing, but once those are spent, it is almost impossible to grant them to anyone else, no matter what the trouble was. I used to believe in second chances, hell, I was a walking second chance. But second chances turned into thirds, and fourths were when I drew the line. No more." His smile faded, and his solemnity returned to him. I had forgotten how sallow and pallid his face became in his depression. I realized just then, that even speaking of his emotional trials so many years ago, his face lightened up, and some color returned to his cheeks.

Now as he laid there, his expression brittled by the gnawing at his soul, I felt as if he were a time bomb. Come to think of it, he had made no progress in stability, and he was withering inside. Edward needed to be fixed, and he needed to be fixed soon.

"But you did forgive him; you must have believed him deep down." I stated.

"I did. It took me a little while to realize it, but I did."

"What happened after you talked to Emmett?"

"Bella came back, and everything seemed so much clearer now that she was in the room again, in my sight again...

Emmett walked back inside the room to sit beside his Rosalie once more, while I remained outside. I did not care to see the bed sheets flat without Bella asleep between them, to see the pillows empty with only the curved indentation of where her head had been laid, to see the monitors turned off, but most painful of all, not to see the gentle rise of her chest and shoulders while she slept, or to hear her mumble in her slumber.

At the far end of the hallway, a gurney was being wheeled around the corner, thick, mohagony hair dripping over the side. An IV bag hung at the head of the metallic pole that always reminded me of a sick, medicinal coat hook. I withdrew my hands from my pockets, and walked beside the moving bed.

My father strode slowly beside the two doctors maneuvering the vehicle, and did not protest as I caught up to their paces.

"Bella?" I asked, wondering if she was still awake. She had been exhausted since she woke up, and rightfully so. Her tired eyes slowly rolled toward mine, and a wide smile spread across her face that was still fighting for color to return to it. I could not help when my lips twinged and stretched, knowing that she remembered that I was waiting for her.

"Edward." She murmured softly, ending the word with a contented sigh, as if my name brought her joy to simply speak it. If only she knew what hers did to me – it made me feel as if no one else existed, the world was only there for her and I to love each other.

"Hey." I said, the grin cheering the sound of my voice. "How are you?" I asked with a serious tone.

"Fine." She replied without breaking our gaze. Quickly, I looked to Carlisle and asked him if she was truly alright. I knew her well enough to know her stubbornness, and her selflessness. Annoying as it was, I loved every part of her, including the irritating qualities, everything.

Carlisle chuckled, and answered. "Yes, as far as we can tell there is nothing wrong. The CT-Scan was normal, x-rays, MRI's, everything was normal. Her body is healing, and as long as everything progresses the way it should, and I think that it will, with some sleep and a little bit of rehabilitation, it will be as if nothing ever happened."

"Except for the stupid scar" Bella said, grimacing, as she touched her hand that was free from an IV to the pile of gauze on her forehead that matched the site of my stitches.

"Well, at least we will have matching stupid scars." I said, hoping to take her mind off of the insignificance of a scar, yet doing anything to make her laugh. I realized then and there that I was obsessed, and there was nothing that could change that, and for that I was thankful. I could not imagine life any other way.

"Edward, son, could you hold the door open for us?" Carlisle inquired as we approached her room. I complied, and Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper cleared the way for us. The doctors, with a little of my help, lifted her off of the gurney, and set her gently on the bed. On Bella's command, they were extra wary of the various tubes leading into her veins.

She wakes up from a coma, and all she cares about is a scar and an IV. Typical Bella.

Rosalie and Alice rushed to her side, Emmett stayed at a respectful distance but shared his expression of concern, though when Jasper caught sight of a drop of blood on a bandage of hers he shyly strayed to the back corner. Pulling a chair beside her bed, my finger grazed over her free hand, silently telling her about my affection for her.

Bella went into her tale of the different machinery, and how she felt fine with the exception of fatigue, and as her eyes were locked on Rosalie or Alice's, I looked toward Jasper. His oceanic eyes were widened, his fingers turning white with his curled fists. I kissed my love on her hand, and quickly walked over to my friend whilst she was occupied with hers.

"Jazz, what's up with you? You're being weird." He shifted his weight, and his pale complexion seemed to wash him into the wall behind him.

"I'm not good with blood."

"What do you mean? No one likes blood, unless you're a vampire bat or something, but what's the big deal?"

"No, Edward, I mean I am really not good with blood." I looked at him with a strange expression on my face, trying to decode the hidden meaning. His hands knotted nervously in his hair, turning his face away from me.

"Alright. Just keep yourself together. She'll understand." He was halfway out the door shortly after I began. Bella seemed not to mind, and sympathizing. I was surprised she hadn't yet fainted at her own blood.

Striding back over to her bedside, I sat on my knees on the white laminate floor, and stared into her bottomless eyes that seemed like wells of everything that was my life, contained in two circular beings.

"You both have something in common." I declared, explaining Jasper's sudden absence.

"Ah. I don't blame him." She replied. We had not yet done blood typing in Biology, and would not until second semester, but she did not seem like the sort who dealt with it well. A nurse came in the door, a needle held in her palm. Bella's eyes widened at the long, thin point, her face paling with the expectation of yet another skin-deep prick.

The woman, upon seeing her reaction, quickly explained herself.

"Don't worry dear, not for you, for the tube. It will make you sleep." She sighed, but was then distressed once more.

"No, I don't want to sleep anymore. I just woke up, I want to be awake for –– for my friends..."

"Shh, dear. Your painkillers will be wearing off soon, and it is better that you sleep through it rather than being pounded with morphine. You will have plenty of time with your friends, don't worry."

"You need to rest Bella." I said, though I wished as much as she did that she would remain awake. Seeing her eyelids flutter and the gentle movements of her arms and fingers was enough to make my head fuzzy. Every time she twitched or stirred, it only assured me more that she was alive, living on her own power, on her own will. Still, I knew what was best for her, and that was sleep.

"Edward..."

"Please, listen. She's right. Don't worry, I won't leave you. I will be right here when you wake up."

Bella smiled, knowing that I would never lie to her. Only then my stomach sank. I had lied to her. I was lying to her right then. She didn't even know who I was, or rather who I had been. It was strange, but at the same time, it felt like she knew me better than I did. She couldn't...could she? Did she? Could I wait to ask her before she awoke from her medicinally-induced slumber? Could I even ask her when she did? I could not wait to see her awake again, as the nurse injected the white liquid into her IV whilst I stroked her hand, but at the same time I dreaded having to tell her how I had deceived her. It was so unfair, to both of us.

"Promise?"Bella asked.

"I promise to stay, if you promise to come back." She smiled, and said,

"I promise." And with those words, the beauty of her eyes were obscured by her falling lids, her head lolled to the side, and her hand collapsed into mine.