A/N: It has been a BATTLE to get this one out, my darlings. I'm sick as a dog (why are dogs so sick?), my Internet was down, I had to do an hour of troubleshooting whilst hacking up a lung. It's been a day, let me tell you.

Edward was still screaming Bella's name as he wrestled with Alice, trying to wrest the gun from her hand. Desperate to stop her from firing at Bella again, he stepped in front of her, close enough he felt the barrel against his chest a split second before it kicked. The crack of the shot startled him. He fell down onto his ass.

Alice screamed, "No, no, no, what have you done?" She tried to fall to her knees beside him, but Emmett was there, dragging her bodily backwards.

All of ten seconds had passed, if that.

Some part of Edward knew he'd been shot, but it didn't matter. If he was in pain, he didn't feel it. If he was dying, he didn't know it. He scrambled to his feet, already running towards Bella's lifeless form.

She was surrounded by people now, and he wasn't the only one calling her name. Her father reached the crowd as he did. Edward had the presence of mind to hold back, letting Charlie take the place on her other side, opposite the doctor they'd had on set.

Edward had only barely had a chance to gasp—she was pale as death, her head crowned with a halo of blood—before someone grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. It was one of the PA's. The man frantically tugged at Edward's shirt.

"I don't understand. I saw her shoot you. The gun was right up against you. What the hell?" the man cried, still pawing at Edward.

Edward batted his hands away torn between trying to see what the physician was doing to Bella and trying to wrap his head around the fact there was no blood on his shirt.

"Blanks!" Emmett called, waving the gun Alice had. "It's a prop gun. It's a fucking prop."

He hadn't been shot.

But then…

Edward swung back around, hope warring with panic. "Then why isn't she moving? If she wasn't shot, why isn't she moving?"

There was so much blood.

"That platform is twenty feet off the ground," someone said. "And she hit a train on the way down."

Helpless and unable to go to Bella, Edward spun on his heel, fists clenched at his sides. He didn't know what he intended to do to Alice, but it was going to be bad. She'd been yelling at him this whole time, yelling things he couldn't hear for the roar in his ears. Why she did it. Why it needed to be done. How she was just trying to help.

But Alice too was surrounded by the studio's people and Emmett's.

Edward stood between both crowds, helpless to do anything but wait.

~0~

Twenty-four hours passed, and Edward didn't get to see her. It was strange. Of all the rest of the crew, he was closest to Bella and yet he had to get his information the most circuitous way. Charlie was talking to someone, but it sure wasn't him.

What had happened was this:

Emmett had walked away from him to see about a commotion on set. The commotion turned out to be the crew's search for a missing prop gun. The gun had been rigged to fire, producing the customary noise without the necessity of a bullet. Alice hadn't known that when she snatched the gun. It should have been obvious—no one in their right mind would leave a loaded gun around on a busy movie set—but Alice wasn't exactly in her right mind.

The loud clap of a gunshot startled Bella, who had no chance to find terra firma on the platform. Knocked off balance, she fell. A twenty-foot fall was rarely fatal, especially for someone like Bella who knew how to minimize the damage of a fall. The problem was, she'd struck her head and her side on a damned train on her way down.

She hadn't woken up yet. The doctors weren't sure if she was going to. As if the traumatic head injury wasn't enough, she'd suffered a number of broken ribs and a fractured leg.

Edward refused to accept the possibility she might not wake up. He put all his strength into what would happen when she did wake up. Landing on her back as she had, the damage to her body could have been so much worse. The leg would take a long time to heal, and she'd probably have to do some physical therapy, but that was okay. That was better than paralysis, for sure.

Now if only he could see her.

Not for the first time, Edward wondered what Charlie Swan thought of him. The man knew damn well he was around. The hospital bigwigs had given Edward an office to wait in when they saw he had no intention of leaving. They'd come personally to report to him that Charlie was refusing any visitors. He hadn't left the hospital either.

Edward couldn't blame Charlie for not letting him in. If the man blamed him for Bella being on her deathbed, he would have to agree. For months, ever since he convinced Gianna to take this part, he'd been insisting this wasn't a big deal. Then, he let things spiral. He could have refused when Emmett suggested he and Bella put on a ruse. Then all the rumors about Edward 'cheating' on Gianna with Bella.

So Edward waited.

Long after visiting hours, Edward was in the office, dozing, alone for once—he'd gotten a fair number of visitors himself. He was shaken awake by a rough hand and found himself looking into Bella's scared, angry eyes.

He blinked. No. Not Bella. Charlie's eyes—the same color as his daughter's. Edward sat up straight.

Charlie retreated to the opposite side of the room, sinking down into a chair. Edward's stomach tangled up in knots.

"Okay," the older man said after a tense minute. "I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me without any bullshit. I've been in this game a long time. I've seen a lot of stupid crap done and good people hurt in the name of publicity or pandering to the public or enhancing someone's image. And I'm not here to judge you. You don't get to pick the persona the public pins you with. You try to take as much control as possible. I get that.

"Bella is a smart girl. She lives life her own way, makes her own decisions, and makes her own mistakes. I have no idea what the hell you two were up to." Charlie swallowed hard, not quite able to mask his agony as he said the next words. "But she's not here to speak for herself right now."

"I've been sitting in a room for going on two days, watching a machine breathe for my only child and getting phone call after phone call from people wanting to talk about you." Charlie jabbed a finger toward Edward. "They've had to increase security to keep the dumbass paps and their cameras away from my girl. They know you're here."

Edward grimaced. He knew all that, of course. The paps had caught one photo of him in the hospital's waiting room, head bent, face ashen—the picture of grief. Benjamin had been calling and showing up almost nonstop, trying to get Edward to put together a coherent response.

The story was spinning out of control—well beyond the scope of the tabs. It was in the mainstream media now, and no one could put together a cohesive story. There were a lot of pieces: Edward's injury the first few days of filming; the "proof" of his relationship with Gianna; the rumor that he'd been messing around with a crewmember; the violent incident that resulted in filming being shut down which led to increased security and lost crew jobs. And now this.

"So what is this?" Charlie asked. "This whole pining thing you're doing is dramatic by any sense of the word. I know you're not her boyfriend, because she would have told me that. It's doing your image a lot of good, so—"

"No," Edward said, speaking for the first time since Charlie had begun his tirade. He looked the man in the eyes. "This isn't a matter of dramatics for me. I know I'm not doing anyone any good here, although, honestly, my not being here won't stop the paps from trying to sneak in. Not now. And I hate this crap ten times as much because I know Bella wouldn't like any of it.

"I'm here for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I'd be useless anywhere else. I'd be the one bugging the hospital staff every five minutes, even though I know damn well they won't tell me anything." He rubbed the back of his neck, debating his next words before they came tumbling out. "Mostly, though, I'm here because if she wakes up and asks for me, I want to be there for her."

Charlie tilted his head down, narrowing his eyes at Edward. "Do you think it's likely she'd ask for you?"

Edward had to laugh. "I have no idea. Bella keeps me guessing." He sighed, sobering again. "But I think there's a chance she'd like to see me, yes."

Charlie studied him for another long moment and then grunted as he got to his feet. "Fine." He went to the door and looked over his shoulder. "Are you coming or what?"

Edward didn't let his shock get the better of him. He hurried after Charlie before the man could change his mind. He clenched his fists at his sides to stop them from trembling. He wanted to grab Charlie's arm and hurry him up. It had been maddening to be so close and yet so far from Bella all this time. He almost couldn't believe he'd be seeing her in another minute.

"They took her off the ventilator a few hours ago," Charlie said. "She's breathing on her own, so that's an improvement." He paused outside one of the rooms, taking a deep breath. "The doctors can't say when she'll wake up, though."

If she woke up, he didn't have to say. Edward heard the words anyway. A lump rose to his throat, and he had to fight to keep his terror at bay. It wasn't going to happen. Bella was way too strong to go out like that.

When he got his first glimpse of her, though, his conviction flagged. She didn't look strong. She didn't look at all like herself. This couldn't be his fearless, invincible Bella. His Bella was full of fire and light. This Bella…

She was limp, her skin drained and pale. She seemed small, dwarfed by the bed and the various machines she was attached to. A cast engulfed her left leg, making her seem even smaller.

"She's so still," Edward whispered before he'd realized he'd spoken out loud.

"Yeah." The word was pained. Charlie went to Bella's bedside and sank into the chair.

Edward approached slower, trying to keep the lump in his throat from coming out as a sob. His hands were clenched in such tight fists, his fingernails dug into his palm.

There was a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Edward made his way on shaky limbs to the chair, and he sat gingerly on the edge of it. For a brief moment, he hesitated, not wanting to make her father angry, but then he decided he didn't care. He picked up Bella's hand and threaded his fingers through her limp, cool ones.

"She's important to me," Edward said, looking at Bella but talking to her father. "I don't know what you think of me, but she's important."

"Yeah, kid. I get that."

They made awkward conversation for perhaps an hour before Charlie made a disgruntled noise. "Okay. There are a couple of things I have to do, to keep that…" He made a face. "Woman in jail. I've been putting it off. It seemed wrong to leave Bella here alone."

It took Edward a minute to see that as an obvious excuse. Bella had no shortage of friends. It shouldn't have been a problem to get someone to stay with her. No, he was doing Edward a favor, leaving him alone with Bella to say what he wanted to say.

Almost as soon as Charlie was out the door, Edward pressed her palm to his lips. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the emotion that rose in him. "Fuck, Bella." He breathed in through his nose and tried again, putting on a lighter tone. "Look, this is all a little more dramatic than necessary. Drama is my department, beautiful. If you wanted to get out of our date so badly, you could have told me."

He ran a hand through the fringe of hair that peeked out from underneath the bandage wound around her head. He sighed. "When you said that being with actors has hurt you in the past, I'm pretty sure this wasn't what you meant. Wake up, and if you tell me, 'I told you so,' I'm not going to argue."

He waited, but of course, she didn't sit up. She remained motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest.

"Okay," he said, kissing her fingertips again. "Then I'm going to take this chance to say a few things I've been thinking. Cheesy things. I'm going to tell you now while you can't accuse me of being an actor. I'm already aware they sound like lines, Bella, but that doesn't mean they're not true. Just think about it if you're not, you know, busy."

He massaged her hand as he tried to find the right words. It wasn't that they were scarce. Rather, there were too many words, so much he wanted to say. "I've had nothing to do for over a day but think of these things, okay?" Over twenty-four hours wondering what if. What if she never woke up?

The thought was abhorrent. Rage and fear overwhelmed him. His body tensed under the onslaught. He breathed in and out, calming as best he could, and concentrating again on what he had to tell her.

"You know enough about my past to know I've been serious about a few women in my lifetime. In each of those relationships, my affection and my intentions were true. You're different. You're more."

He frowned. As truly and deeply as he meant them, those words rang hollow. They weren't enough. They weren't nearly enough. He sighed. "I don't know, Bella. Maybe I need to hire a screenwriter after all. Someone who could figure out how to say it right. Or maybe I should have paid more attention. I've been the romantic lead often enough. Was I just not paying attention?

"You know what I always thought was funny? I've never been passionate about my work. I'm good at what I do. I know that, but it's a job. It's not a purpose. It's not a passion. I've never considered myself an artist. Never, in all my years of doing this, have I thought, this is what I was put on Earth to do. This is it. This is me.

"But with you, Bella, I finally understand what people mean when they say they have a purpose. Every day is a good day because I wake up knowing there's a chance I'm going to get to talk to you, to see you. I've felt more alive just talking to you than I have in anything else I've done, and I've done some amazing things. I was meant for you. It's something I know in my gut."

He ducked his head and laughed, running his free hand over his eyes. "Dammit, Bella. Wake up. Tell me I'm crazy or a drama queen. Tell me—"

He cut himself off as his throat closed. He pressed his lips together, fighting again to keep his emotions in check. "This just can't be the way the story ends. It's bad writing. The audience would leave pissed as hell."

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. For a split second, he had a ridiculous notion that she'd open her eyes then—awakened by true love's kiss. Right. If she did, she'd probably tease him for being a pervert. He could almost hear her voice.

'Kissing corpses now, are we, stud? I'm not exactly vanilla, but that's a level of kink I'm not sure I can get behind.'

Of course, she didn't wake. She didn't move at all.

Edward sat back, not letting go of her hand. "Anyway. Long story short, you're not getting out of that date. You may as well get used to the idea. Don't worry. I'll wait."

He settled in to do just that.

~0~

Two days later, Edward was gritting his teeth. Benjamin had been talking at him for the better part of an hour. His phone kept buzzing in his pocket—the studio making sure he was going to return to work the next day.

It was all wrong. Production had shut down again while an investigation took place, but now preliminary filming was ready to start. A new stunt double had been brought onto the crew. She was being fitted and going through rehearsal with Alec. Charlie had looked as disgruntled as Edward felt when he told him.

"Edward, are you hearing what I'm saying at all?"

Edward blinked and looked up at his publicist. "What?" he asked. He could almost hear Benjamin counting to ten in his head before he answered.

"You have to let me make a statement. The fans and the media are worked up into a frenzy you're going to have to deal with eventually. Better to give them something official to go off of. Anything. This radio silence isn't helping anyone."

"I know," Edward said with a sigh. He massaged his temples. "I wanted to talk to her about it. What she wants me to say," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Bella slept on, oblivious to the building drama. The tabs were having a field day putting together one bizarre theory after another. "I know she wouldn't appreciate all the speculation about her private life, but I didn't want to speak for her." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Time insists on going on without her."

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, tired and heartbroken. He didn't want to have to make these decisions. He didn't want to have to think about releasing statements and going back to work while there was a huge question mark hanging over their heads. What did her future look like?

Did she have a future at all?

"Okay," Edward said. "You can release a statement. Something—"

The door to the little office banged open, making both men jump. A nurse peeked in the door. "Mr. Cullen?"

Edward's heart dropped into his stomach. "Yes?"

"Mr. Swan asked me to come see you."

Edward held his breath.

The nurse smiled. "Bella woke up just a few minutes ago."

Edward all but leapt to his feet. The nurse held a hand out to stop him from rushing out the door. "She's with the doctors. They don't have a full picture yet, but Mr. Swan asked me to tell you."

"I… You… I."

Benjamin clapped him on the back. "He means thank you. That's good news. I'm sure you'll be by to let him know when he can see her?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," Benjamin said again.

"Thank you," Edward echoed, finding his voice.

The nurse left, and he sunk to his knees, his legs trembling too much to hold him. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," he whispered, hiding his face behind his hands.

Benjamin squeezed his shoulder. "I guess she really didn't want you to speak for her."

Edward laughed. The sound was strangled, but it was genuine. "I should have known that's what would get her to wake up." He let out a breath in a gust, shaking with relief. He knew they weren't out of the woods yet. He knew there could be any number of things wrong. Hell, this was Hollywood. She might have amnesia.

He didn't care. Awake was a huge step away from dead. That was all that mattered right then.

A/N: Reunion next chap!

Thanks so much to Packy 2.0, barburella, songster, and Femme.