As we all know, I am, unfortunately, no Stephenie Meyer – All Twilight Characters belong to her.

Chapter 7: EPOV

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

~ Fix you, Coldplay

.

Dinner at Esme's is always enjoyable but after the day I had with Bella in that meadow, I am mess. All I want to do is go home and research, to find out as much about what happened to the Chief as possible.

Charlie Swan was more than just the Chief of Police to me and my family.

He was the gruff voice from my memories. He was the one who found me crumpled on my passage floor, with a gunshot wound to the leg, screaming for help. He was the one who came to the hospital afterward, who checked up on me. He was the one who had cared about what would happen to me.

And now he was also the one who had fathered this broken girl that has somehow managed to crawl underneath my skin.

And I would never even get the chance to thank him.

I can't even remember the drive from Bella's to Esme's. Since I had put the pieces together, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I can't understand how it is even possible that I never met Bella before, how hadn't I put the pieces together before now – like when she first moved into town?

I remember the Chief talking about her. I remember how she would come to visit during holidays. He was so proud of her. He'd talk about her for weeks before she was due for her visit.

I remember how protective he was of her.

Maybe that's why I hadn't met her before.

I got into a lot of trouble - a lot of trouble that the Chief helped to get me out of.

I always felt as though we understood each other – he seemed to see right through all my bullshit.

He always gave me the benefit of the doubt.

There were times when it would annoy the shit out of me, when I wanted him to see past the little boy with his fucked up past. But he never really did. He was always a little more lenient on me. Sure, I mean, he'd phone Carlisle and I'd still get into trouble, but he was always the one who'd show up when I was involved in anything I shouldn't have been.

I'm convinced he told every one of the other cops that if they saw me they had to call him before they did anything else.

When the news of his death, his murder, broke, it was hard on everyone in this town. Every single person had some kind of relationship with Charlie Swan.

I remember Esme saying how she would never be able to thank him enough – that he was the reason that they had me. At the time, all I thought was that the reason they had me is because my dad was a fuck up. A fuck up that killed my mom, shot me and then like a coward, shot himself.

But I did understand. I mean, I am grateful to the Chief - he got me out of there.

When Esme and Carlisle had offered to let me stay with them, to adopt me, he was the one who helped prevent me from having to go into the system first. If it weren't for him, I might not have had Esme or Carlisle - or Emmett. I could have been one of those kids who was shuffled from one foster family to the next.

The Chief was a hero.

Maybe not a Superman, or Spiderman, or any of those bullshit supernatural types, but he was a damn hero.

The entire town had attended the memorial down at First Beach.

Except for me.

Memorials were not my thing. I was 18 and miserable, filled with anger at the world and wanting to avoid any kind of emotion, at all costs, and watching someone scatter the Chief's body, burnt to ashes, into the ocean and talk about how great he was, would not have allowed me to keep my walls up.

I would have cried like a girl.

I wish I had now though. I wish I could have seen her then, been there for her somehow.

Surely she wasn't in this situation yet.

Maybe I could have done something.

I stopped the thoughts right there. One thing I am very sure of, is that my 18 year old self would have run the moment I felt the connection between us. That hum that is always around me when I am near her? It would have scared the shit out of me back then. Not that I would have admitted that to anyone, or even myself.

"Edward," I hear Esme's voice through the mountain of thoughts, and possibilities, that are swimming through my head.

"Mom?"

"For the fifteenth time, do you want some custard on your pudding?" She chuckles.

"What?" I look at her and she is holding out a bowl to me. If Carlisle, or Emmett, were here they'd have kicked me under the table.

"Oh, um, yes please." I give her a grin.

While she pours some custard into my bowl, I continue with the question that had been building in my head as I thought through the past.

"What do you remember about what happened to the Chief?" I don't need to elaborate.

My mom looks up at me, eyes wide. She is shocked at the question but she catches herself and reassemble her face to hide it.

She clears her throat as she reaches over and places the bowl in front of me. She is sitting across from me at the 8-seater mahogany table. Monday's are usually just for us.

"What do you want to know?" she asks as she looks down into the bowl in front of her.

"Everything." She looks at me again. Her eyes are filled with compassion.

"Um, well, you know that he was shot."

"Yeah, but how did it happen? Why was he there?" I knew so little of the details because when it happened ,I cut myself off from it. Every time I heard them talking about it, I freaked out and told them that I didn't want to know.

I can only imagine how they felt, walking on egg shells around me all the time.

It was about 2 weeks after I found out about the chief that I tried my one and only hit of coke. Of course, I was busted and Carlisle gave me a speech I will probably never forget. It was a very bad time, but even more so for my parents, and now that I understand the connection, I can only imagine what Bella had gone through.

God, I was such a selfish prick.

I watch Esme as she takes a few small bites of her dessert. I still haven't touched mine.

Just as I begin to think that she isn't going to answer me, she starts talking.

"From what we heard afterward, Charlie was shot by Renee's husband at the time, I think his name was Phil," she pauses and bites her cheek in thought. "Phil Dwyer, if I remember correctly. He shot him when Charlie came to their holiday home to fetch his daughter. Do you remember that he had a daughter? She was only a year or two younger than you."

"Yeah, um, I remember. Did you ever meet her?" I ask, because I can't help it. I need to know if my mom saw her, met her, knew her.

"Yes, I did actually. She was a sweet little thing. Quiet, a lot like her dad."

"When did you meet her?"

"Well besides for just seeing her around a few times, I met her at the hospital."

"What? Was she hurt when Charlie got shot?" I can't help the little bit of panic in my voice. The thought of Bella hurt, shot, bleeding. It makes my heart race even though it is was so long ago.

"No, no. She was just there because she broke her arm. I went to meet Carlisle at the hospital because we were going to go out for dinner but Charlie called last minute and asked him to please be there when they brought her in. She hated that they were making such a fuss." My mom smiles at the memory.

"She was very small, but fiery. I could see that in her the minute I met her. She had a lot of spirit." And then she frowns.

Yeah, I know that frown. It's the 'it's so sad what happened to her' frown.

I think back to the Bella I see now and my heart hurts for her. For what she has gone through.

"Apparently she was quite a common patient, always getting hurt. I remember Charlie saying that Renee must think that he is a terrible father because every time she went home she had bruises, stitches or a broken bone. Isabella just clicked her tongue at him and told him that he is taking way too much credit. It was sweet to watch them together."

I can picture it perfectly – Bella young, happy, and full of life.

"So why did Charlie go to the cabin to fetch her? Was she supposed to be coming here for the holidays?"

My mom's face drops. "Well from what we understand there was talk about a custody battle. Apparently Phil and Isabella didn't get along and she wanted to come and live with Charlie."

"So her mom wouldn't let her?"

"Well, no. From what we can tell, her mom thought she was being ridiculous and was going to fight it."

"Well that turned out well." I mumbled to myself.

My mom sighed. Obviously hearing my words. "That night," Esme pauses for a while as she gathers the plates and walks into the kitchen. I grab a few and follow her. "According to the reports, Isabella had called Charlie in hysterics and told him to come and get her. When he got there Phil was the only one home. Isabella had gone to her boyfriend's house to wait for him. It seems that there was an argument, that must have escalated, ending with Phil shooting Charlie and Charlie shooting Phil."

I sucked in a breath. I didn't know that. The imagery is clear and I want to tell Esme to stop because it is a little too close to home, but I don't. Instead I ask for more.

"What happened to Bella?"

We are in the kitchen now. My mom is leaning with her back against the sink where all the dishes lay, and I am leaning on the counter across from her.

She is staring at me, probing, trying to figure something out.

"Isabella," she emphasizes the first part, "was distraught, obviously. But, from what I understand, her boyfriend took care of her. And she went to college in Seattle after the memorial, I think. It sounded like she got her life together." She turns around and twists the taps to fill the sink. "Since she moved back here, I've only seen her a few times. But I don't think she remembers me."

It's silent as the sink fills. I am lost in thoughts of Bella with some unknown man. All I can think is that it can't be him.

"Why the sudden interest, Edward?" My mom's eyes are on me again and this time they are full of suspicion.

I consider telling her but I decide against it for now.

"I don't know," I lie. "I drove past his old house today and it made me realize that I never did find out exactly what happened to him."

I walk toward her and grab the dish towel from the counter on her left.

"You wash, I'll dry" I grin and hope that she will leave it at that.

xxxxxx

.

Tuesday.

Nothing. I don't see or hear from her. I try to push it out my mind. I try to forget the hum, the burn, the feelings, the thoughts. It's hard but I get through the day. I tell myself that I'll see her tomorrow. It helps.

xxxxxx

.

Wednesday.

I still don't hear from her. It is a little easier to think around it, to continue with life and pretend I haven't found out such a crucial connection to her. One that is real, something measurable. Jasper comes in to the pub for lunch and he doesn't even mention her. I take that as a sign that she is fine.

xxxxxx

.

Thursday.

I am worried. I have the dream again. I realize how close to home this all is and I wonder if she dreams about things too. I drive past her house on the way home, but he is there.

xxxxxx

.

Friday.

I spend the day imagining her walking through the door. Every time the door swings open, my heart jumps.

But it is never her and I feel like a complete idiot for thinking about it constantly. Jasper and Alice do come in, though, and I join them for a drink during my break.

"So where's the entourage tonight, Alice?" I tease. Pretending that there is more to my question than just – "So where's Bella?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Bella and Angela hardly count as an entourage. Not that we have been out with Angela for a while. She seems to be one of those 'get a boyfriend and stop seeing my friends' types."

She zones out as she speaks. Undoubtedly planning all the ways to fix it.

"Okay, so where's Bella tonight?" So much for subtlety.

Jasper raises his eyebrow as he looks at me but Alice just answers. "She's with James."

His name creeps up my spine and makes all my hairs stand up straight. My fists clench and my stomach tightens into intricate knots.

"She's been sick all week, and she was finally feeling better and was gonna come out with us tonight but now James is going on a sudden trip early tomorrow morning so she's just spending the night with him. I don't know how she does it, I mean, I wouldn't even be able to stay away from you for a week," she rambles as she turns to Jasper.

Their voices fade off. I don't hear anything past Bella being sick and him going away. Did he hurt her again? Was it so bad that she couldn't even leave the house?

My stomach churns at the thought.

xxxxxx

.

My sleep is the most disturbed it has been in years. I wake up at least once every half an hour, plagued with visions of her hurt and bleeding. They are mixed with images of the Chief, of him getting shot, of him trying to protect her.

Him begging me to help her - to save her.

I am up at the crack of dawn. I can't even try to sleep anymore. I go for a run to try and clear my head. All it does is give me more time to think.

I get home, shower and get ready for the day. I throw on some clothes, not even thinking about what I am doing.

I drive to the pub. It's quiet because I am too early.

By 11, I am going crazy. I can't think straight. The exhaustion making it worse.

I think of all the things I could do and before I know it, I am in the kitchen and making milkshakes. After the fourth set, I am gripping my hair in frustration.

It needs to be perfect.

Garrett walks in.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks, his soft tone doesn't match his words.

"Milkshakes," I grumble.

"Yeah, I see that."

I carry on grating the chocolate flakes on the top.

"Go home."

"What?" I turn to look at him.

"Edward, you look like shit. Did you sleep at all?"

I ignore the question but stop the grating and start cleaning up.

"No, seriously, take your milkshakes and go home! Get some sleep. I'll take over here."

I stare at him, a plan setting into motion in my head.

I grab the milkshake, cover it and stick it in a brown bag.

"Thanks, man. I owe you one." I say as I walk out.

xxxxxx

.

The drive to Bella's is long as I try not to think about what I am doing.

I am grateful when his see that his car is gone. That Alice was right.

I walk to the door. My hands are sweating from nerves. I am scared of what I may find.

xxxxxx

.

She doesn't need a chocolate milkshake, Edward. She needs a goddamn doctor. I chastise myself as I make my way back to my car. As much as I was relieved to see her whole, unharmed, I am chilled to the bone by the vacancy in her eyes.

A chocolate milkshake is not going to bring the little bit of light I saw on Monday back. It's not going to bring colour to her cheeks, or make the dark circles under her eyes disappear.

Every step toward my car breaks my heart more and more. It feels as though every cell in my body is begging for me to stay with her. To help her. To take her to Carlisle - Anything, as long as I do something.

But I ignore the urge. I restrain myself and stick to my thoughts of not pushing her too far. It's blatant by her response, that she doesn't want me there. Whether it's just me, or everyone in general, remains to be seen.

At least he is gone.

Well, for the moment..

I walk to my car thinking about how Isabella Swan could have gotten to this point? How had she ended up, after having a Police Chief for a father, as the punching bag for some fucking asshole? What happened after college? Why did she come back? Where was her mom?

So many questions and only one person who can answer them.

Yeah, like that is going to happen anytime soon.

I snap out of my crazy thoughts and realize that I am just sitting in my car , still parked in Bella's driveway.

As I put my car in gear and start to reverse, I feel it - the hum, the strange cord that connects us. It is strong and vibrating and I know that she is somewhere close to me. I look up and see her standing between the front door and my car. She is statuesque, like she doesn't know what she is doing but can't seem to stop herself. Her hair is a mess, all she is wearing are a simple pair of jeans and a plain back hoodie.

She is beautiful.

Beautifully Broken.

I take the car out of gear, open my door and slowly get out. I watch her as I stand with my door open, one leg in and my arm on the roof.

There are small tears slipping down her cheeks and that ingrained need to comfort her, to wipe them away, consumes me. I start to move, shutting the car door, but she stops me by lifting her hands in front of her.

"Why?" Her small voice floats to me through the chill of the air. "Why are you here? Why are you always so nice to me?" Her voice rises as she continues. "I'm a bitch. I avoid you. I lie to you. I'm all over the goddamn place. And then you show up here when I am feeling so shit. When I am feeling as though the only reason to live is so that I can feel all this crap, because I deserve it all, and then you come along and bring me chocolate milkshake?" She laughs humourlessly. "And I don't even need to taste it, because just seeing it there, it reminds me of you. It reminds me that you give a shit."

Her cheeks are wet with tears.

"But what I don't understand is why? Why do you give a shit, Edward?"

My heart constricts more and more as she talks. I want to stop her but I am still stuck on her previous words.

I deserve it all.

She really believes that. It's in the way she says it. It's in every word. It starts to rain. Not the soft kind but the kind that soaks you down to the bone.

"Get in the car, Bella"

She doesn't move. She just stands there, wet and trembling. Her breathing deep and heavy. Steam all around her from the warmth of her breath.

"Please, Bella. Please get in the car." I beg over the noise of the rain.

I watch her carefully. I can almost feel the inner struggle.

After what feels like hours, she shrugs and walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and getting in. She shuts it behind her at the same time as I do.

I start the car and put the heater up. I can hear her shivering. I think how it would probably be better for her to go inside, to get out of her wet clothes, but I don't want to lose this moment, this time where she is opening up, even if I still don't understand.

I turn in my seat to face her. She is biting her lip and looking down at her lap.

"Bella?" I say softly, wanting her to look at me.

She doesn't.

"Bella," I say again as I move to touch her. To put my hand under her chin. To make her look at me.

I don't make contact. She lifts her head and I drop my hand just before my fingers reach her.

"I just give a shit, Bella." I start. "There's this connection. I don't know how to explain it but it's there and I just want to know you, Bella, to be your friend, to help you out, to be there for you. Why is that so hard to understand?"

She diverts her gaze and sighs. "Y - you shouldn't, y-you wouldn't, if you did know me." It's a whisper and I can hardly make out her words through the shivering.

It's quiet for a while. I am not sure how to explain the way I feel. I'm not sure how to put it into words.

"I care about you, Bella." The words feel so inadequate for what I am feeling. "I might not know everything about you, but I know some things. Some things that you probably don't even know that I know. Things I probably shouldn't know. God, I don't know what to say to you to make you understand, to make you see what I see."

I sigh and lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I just want to be your friend, Bella." I finish.

Silence. I don't move, still stuck trying to think of a way to explain things to her fully. It's hard to talk to someone when you are scared that you may say something that will send them running.

"You scare me." Her voice is so small, almost too soft for me to hear, and I wonder if I was meant to.

"Why?" I ask. I still don't turn to look at her but I drop my hand from my face. "Why do I scare you, Bella?"

She sucks in a breath and I turn my head to see her looking at me. Her eyes are wide but she doesn't look like she is going to run.

She exhales and her shoulders drop.

"This," she says and she moves her hand between us, "connection, as you put it, I-I feel it to and it makes me want to talk to you. It makes me want to tell you... things. My picture falls apart around you and I can't pretend. And I-I can't just let go. It's... disconcerting. There are things about me, Edward, things that would change everything you think you know." She scrunches up her face. "I am not a good person." Her voice is stronger now, steady, even.

She turns her head and moves to open the door but I grab her arm to stop her. The feeling is there, even through her wet hoodie – the tingle, the burn.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Bella. You don't have to pretend. You don't have to do anything. Just... just let me be your friend."

She looks up and into my eyes. The vacancy, that has haunted me for weeks, is gone. Her chocolate orbs are captivating in their depth. There is sadness there. So much sadness that it takes my breath away. But in among the sadness there is hope. It may only be a spark, but it is there and it is something to hold onto.

Her eyes begin to shine as the tears build. She closes them and a tear slips over. I once again fight the urge to catch it.

"Please, Bella, don't fight me." I whisper.

I don't know what it is but something in my voice must register with her because as she opens her eyes, I can see her there. I can see the acceptance. I can see the hope shining stronger than ever.

"Okay, Edward ... I think I can, um, try the friends thing."

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating... Real Life has managed to creep up on me but in case you are ever worried, I will never abandon this story and I will try my best to update at least once a week!

As always, please let me know your thoughts – good or bad :-)