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Chapter 08 – Just Stay

but I crash in my mind whenever you are near
getting deaf, dumb and blind just drowning in despair
I am lost in your flame it's burning like a sun
and I call out your name the moment you are gone

(Saybia – the day after tomorrow)

Bella Swan

From the moment he touched my hand, I froze in shock. Somehow we were now holding hands in a very odd way. I could feel his warm and soft chest beneath my fingers and I felt heat spread up my arms. Such a rather innocent gesture, turned into everything else when Edward's eyes left mine. He stared intensely at my lips, his eyes filled with desire. My heartbeat increased even more. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer to me, but I was so mesmerised by only our touch that all I could do was simply lean forward. He let go of my hand and as if all energy had left it, it fell to my side. I didn't have time to grieve about the loss though, because he was now reaching for my face. I stood calm, not really able to move anyway, shocked and overwhelmed by his actions.

Could it be that he was longing to touch me, as much as I wanted him to?

The whispers of his velvet voice send cold shivers up and down my spine. He was being all poetic and quoting something, but I didn't care. He was only wasting time, I wanted him to touch me again. I needed the warmth back, the electricity. He finally let his fingers caress my face and I closed my eyes to the sweet sensation of his touch. Still, I was motionless, conjuring every inch of my body to prevent a heart attack; my bloodstream was on fire. And then I felt his lips on mine, cautious, soft. Perfect; but not enough.

He pulled away, but thankfully before I could get my body to do something his lips found mine once more. I needed to be closer to him. I needed to hear his heart beating my melody again.

I touched him, pressed myself against him and I really don't know why I didn't pass out right there. It was too much, too good to be true. If this was some kind of wicked fantasy I could at least make it my wicked fantasy. I kissed him, with a passion and desire I did not know I had inside of me. I don't know how, but somehow I was backed up against the wall, and his hands left my face. Swiftly I opened my eyes, afraid he would pull back from me. But he only steadied himself, with his hands against the wall, girding me. Then I saw it: A strand of hair falling into his face.

Hair wasn't supposed to be this sexy.

I had to touch it, run my fingers through it. It was perfect. Of course.

We were kissing and it felt like I was reborn into a better, brighter life, or maybe I was just lacking oxygen. I couldn't even remember my own name at the moment.

Finally, everything seemed to be really happening as Edward pulled away from me. In my fantasy he would never have. My hands unwillingly left his hair as he straightened up and it was simply out of reach for me. I opened my eyes to look at him, thankful to still find some desire glowing in his eyes. Hastily he lowered his lips again, kissing me, but just not right. Not enough for the fire burning in me.

He drew his arms from the wall, looking at me with intense eyes. Hypnotising me.

His fingers brushed my cheek, and his eyes kept boring into me.

"Be safe!"

Before I could realise that his eyes had left mine, he had already disappeared.

My brain was only capable of forming three words:

What. The. Fuck.

Edward had walked out on me.

I reached for the door, ripping it open, rushing into the empty staircase. I wanted to confront him, how dare he leave like that! I ran towards the stairs, clearly forgetting I was only in socks. And because I was me, I lost balance, tripped over my own feet and fell down a few stairs, only coming to a stop as my head crashed against the railing.

Warm blood sprawled across my forehead and if it wasn't already bleeding I would have liked to bang my head against the banister on purpose. The blood somehow brought me back to reality. What a stupid thing to run after a man, how pathetic!

He left. Full stop. I crawled back on my feet and carefully walked back into my apartment to treat the scratch and calm my anger.

After the bleeding eventually stopped and a patch decorated my forehead I went into the kitchen for the only thing that might help the situation.

I chewed heavily on a pickle. The poor thing stood no chance, I was confused and angry and therefore very much in need of my comfort food. Maybe I should finally try chocolate, because today it seemed that I couldn't get any comfort out of pickles.

I burned with rage. Not only had Edward left, he also hadn't told me where he was going. I hated to admit it, but our kiss... it had left me desperate for more. But it clearly was a goodbye kiss, like see you in another life.

Why had he kissed me anyway? And why had I kissed him? Sure, he was nice the whole time, apologising for stealing my time and everything. And, yes, wow, that hug was something else. Not to mention that it surely wasn't my fault that he was insanely beautiful.

Bringing him so close to a woman was like offering a glass of cold, juicy ice tea to a thirsty person in the dessert - impossible to resist.

I was only human after all.

Any woman with eyes would have participated in that kiss. And that's probably why he had kissed me. His life was filled with admirers, possibly most of them women, who were ready for some kissing action anytime. His sudden departure, well what about that? I guess I could not live up to his standards. Did I kiss that bad? I don't know, it felt alright for me. Alright. Ha. Who do I think I was kidding? But Edward left in quite a hurry, eager to get rid of me as it seemed.

His actions in the hallway had successfully distracted me from asking what he had in mind for his future activities. After all, the police was tracing him.

After all...

The iPod! Did he take it? I peeked into the hallway and saw something white lying on the floor. I must have dropped it while kissing the moron.

Hesitantly I picked it up, not sure how it would make me feel to have a piece of Edward back in my hands. I don't know what I expected, but touching it was totally uneventful. No Edward suddenly reappearing in my door, no jolt of electricity, or anything lame like that.

I fumbled a bit with the thing before I got it to work. Anyhow, track five started to play and I was hunched up on the sofa again.

Ryan Adams – Wonderwall

A soft, slow guitar melody was haunting through the earplugs. Clearly Wonderwall, yet totally different.

Personal, breathtaking, somewhat darker.

Memories of Edward filled my mind. How he had annoyed me when we met for the first time. How passionate he got about Wonderwall. The way he had insulted me about the article in his office. The relief I had felt when it was not him murdered at Gateshead. The short moment we stared at each other while he got arrested. The sound of his voice calling for me outside my door. My heart skipping a beat as our fingers touched for the very first time. The time we spent in my bedroom... researching. How peacefully he had slept on my sofa. The instinctive trust I somehow felt towards him. How his embrace felt strangely right and meant to be. The epic kiss in my hallway.

And also very clearly I knew about the doubts, the jealousy, the not-knowing-Edward at all.

It was finally time to realise, to admit to myself, that Edward was important to me. Even though he walked out on me, I missed him from the second he was gone.

"Fuck!" I hissed and kicked the table.

I was so confused, my life was a mess. I had been so sure I didn't like Edward. He was annoying, damn rich, snotty, arrogant, knowing it all and gutless, leaving me like that. And on the other hand, I was mysteriously drawn to him. I liked him. A lot.

The song came to an end, but Edward was still haunting my mind. I had to confess, this version made Wonderwall appear less plain and a lot deeper.

But still it was no comparison to Live Forever, I assured myself.

Clueless about how, I somehow manoeuvred through the music Edward obviously listened to. It was quite a mixture. Classical music combined with Indie, older stuff like 50s blues-music, locals like Maximo Park, powerful Muse and many, many bands and musicians I had never heard of. Discovering that I couldn't really criticise his choices annoyed me a bit and I switched the player off.

I lay still on the sofa, my eyes getting heavier and heavier by the night's events. I was exhausted. Just before closing them, my eyes fell on the clock, and I winced. It was already past eight, and I needed to get to work.

As soon as I was in the office Ben startled me.

"Bella! I want to see what you have about the Cullen Murder. It's going to be front page, you know that."

"Sorry, the draft is not ready." Basically, there was no draft.

Ben raised his eyebrows.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Am I laughing?" I was stomping past him to my desk.

"I'm working on it, okay. I'll get back to you about it."

He looked at me, thoughtfully.

"You okay? What's with your head?"

Automatically I touched my forehead, feeling the patch covering the scar.

"I'm fine," I snapped at him, a little too harshly.

He lifted his hand in surrender and backed away from my desk. Guess I needed to work on my temper today. I was not fine. I was far from fine. For years, I had been enjoying being by myself and now Edward Cullen was sucking all my life into his. And there seemed to be nothing I could do about that.

After a heavenly tasting cup of hot coffee I was finally ready to start my work. Ben wanted me to write an article that touched the reader, there had to be emotions that caught his attention. That usually works best with the victim, because everybody already feels sorry for the poor gal. I should focus on Claire McNamara. What were her dreams, her desires? How did she spend her last day? Who was she survived by? And last but not least, why did cruel fate strike her?

Did I have answers to all of that? Not so much.

Was I okay with asking those questions? Not so much, either.

I didn't want to make money or anything out of Claire's death. All I wanted was justice and certainty. But if I didn't write the article, someone else would. If I did it myself, I could at least make sure that it was respectful.

I should start with confirming my statement at the police station and getting some more information about the investigation and seeing if Edward was in custody. Even though I was cross with him about leaving, I didn't want that to happen. But maybe he did the reasonable thing for once and turned himself in. Staying fugitive made him only more suspicious. And getting more suspicious was the last thing he needed.

I got my bag and decided I'd walk to the police headquarters instead of driving, so I had more time to rearrange my thoughts. And for the opportunity to listen to some music; quite accidentally I had an iPod with me. I skipped forward to Track 5 once more, just to make sure it still was no better than Live Forever.

As I arrived at the station I was told to find Detective Black's office on the third floor. There was no name tag at the door and considering the number of boxes it looked like Jacob had just moved in.

He was standing with his back towards me, storing a few files in the shelf behind him. I knocked at the door frame to get his attention; he turned and smiled at me widely when he recognised me.

"Bells! So glad to see you! I'm glad you dropped by."

He shook my hand and I once again wondered, why he was calling me Bells, a privilege that only my father was holding. Maybe Jacob had overheard that sometime.

"Sure, no problem. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

"Did Charlie call me Bells around the office?"

"Yes, of course. I kind of picked that up. Do you mind?"

"Well, I prefer Bella. Only Charlie insists on calling me Bells."

He nodded.

"What happened to your head?"

Oh, nothing much, I chased your fugitive after he kissed me senseless.

I shrugged. "Don't worry, I just tripped."

Jacob raised an eyebrow and grinned a little before his expression got serious.

"You need to be more careful." I didn't know if we were still talking about my clumsiness only. He offered me a seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Sorry, I haven't put my coffee maker out yet."

"Just moved in, huh?"

"Yeah, finally a office for myself."

In police talk, this meant that he was promoted, and his eyes beamed with pride. I got down to business, besides I wasn't here for small talk.

"So, what's new?"

"I'm sorry but we haven't found Cullen yet. But I'm sure we will in the next few hours, the guy can't disappear. You know we have our best people working non-stop on this."

Curiosity washed through me. If he was not in custody, where the hell was he instead?

"I know. But I don't think I'm in danger, Jacob. Saving a picture on your hard drive doesn't mean anything. It's not a crime, is it?"

"Well, that depends. It sure could lead to one. It's not all wedding cake out there, Bella." I wanted to protest, but he raised his hands, silencing me. I rolled my eyes and went to another topic.

"What about Claire? How's the family and her fiancé holding up?"

"How are they supposed to? We had an officer from the local police station in Newquay deliver the sad news to her parents. He reported back to me that they were shocked, disbelieving. Of course we had them questioned as well, apparently they didn't keep very close contact with Claire. They were not okay with her moving up to Newcastle."

I felt pity for Claire, hearing that. "So, they didn't talk at all?" I bet they regret that now.

"Rarely. They've never heard about engagement-plans, or a boyfriend. but they hadn't heard from each other since Christmas. They also don't know about friends here in Newcastle, people she spent time with. Nothing." Jacob sounded frustrated.

"Dead end?"

"Seems like that. We have a colleague though," he sorted through some of his papers, searching, "Lauren, Lauren Mallory, testifying that Claire told her about the engagement on Wednesday. She also asked for discretion, because Claire and Eric," he looked at me, explaining, "that's the future husband, hadn't talked to their parents yet about the marriage. Unfortunately, that's all we have – a first name."

"What about friends?"

"Another dead end so far. We've checked with the neighbours, but apparently nobody cared; she lived in one of those big, anonymous apartment blocks. It turned out that she was highly in debt. She was a few months behind in her rent, and her telephone has been dead for about four months. We're still checking address books and such, but the murder happened over a day ago and with it being all over the news, I guess anybody who really cared would have shown up until now."

"So that's all, two people reporting an engagement somehow gave the guy a motive in which office she was murdered?" I raised an eyebrow at Jacob. This was ridiculous.

"What about finger prints, security cameras and the like?" Like, some real evidence?

"Gateshead has no security system. Cullen's fingerprints were everywhere but since it's his office, I can't prove anything by that. It was not enough, that's why I had to let Cullen go yesterday. Don't forget we also have the fact, that he got into a fight with the victim only few hours before the murder. But now, since he's fugitive – whole new story and it's the only possible version of the murder we have right now. And I want that bastard behind bars as soon as possible before someone else," Jacob shot me a meaningful look, "gets hurt."

I realised there was no arguing with Jacob today. There was no imperative reason for Edward to be arrested but there were a lot of possibilities that Jacob would sure enough turn to account to solve the case. Maybe Edward was right with his assumption, they wanted him to be the murderer. And how much of that was my fault? If only he hadn't saved that stupid photo of me, I would be out of this and the policemen wouldn't be so nervous and eager to rescue the former chiefs daughter and receive quite possibly a lot of honour.

Maybe I should tell Charlie about the whole mess. But how exactly should I explain to him, why I was involved in this? Because I had some kind of need to help Edward Cullen and that I trusted him?

Charlie would surely want to be in on the investigation again and I guess that would only make things worse. He would constantly worry about me, and because my connection to all of this was Edward, he would probably blame him already. Not to mention that the picture thing would be kind of embarrassing. No I didn't want Charlie worrying over this. He should fully enjoy his retirement.

So, Charlie was no option and Jacob seemed kind of determined; maybe Edward really had to prove his innocence on his own.

Well, do you agree with Bella's thoughts?

Chapter title "Just Stay" is borrowed from Kevin Devine's awesome song.