A/N: Hello readers! Here's another part. Sorry, the chapters aren't particularly levelled out, but I've just be splitting it up where appropriate. Let me know what you think please! I'm so happy to see so many hits for this! PLEASE REVIEW! :)

PEACE AND LOVE,
x x x STARSWalkBACKWARD x x x

God Bless The Broken Road

"Hey Mr. Pinochet,
You've sown a bitter crop.
It's foreign money that supports you,
One day the money's going to stop.
No wages for your torturers.
No budget for your guns.
Can you think of your own mother,
Dancin' with her invisible son?
They're dancing with the missing,
They're dancing with the dead.
They dance with the invisible ones,
They're anguish is unsaid.
They're dancing with their fathers,
They're dancing with their sons,
They're dancing with their husbands,
They dance alone,
They dance alone."

––'They Dance Alone' - Sting, 1987.

(For the Cold War victims of Argentina and Chile.)

––– Part III –––

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was that a) I was in a bed in my shared hotel room, and b) I felt...off. Though the surreal events of the night before made me want to be happy, I couldn't. My head was spinning, pounding, and my skin felt hot. I tried to swallow but I couldn't, my throat like sandpaper. Maybe Edward had been right last night about me being a little warm... Had I really come down with something that quickly? I tried to move, but everything ached, and the sun coming from under the curtains pained my eyes. I touched my hair where it had stuck to my face. I could feel the thin slick film of sweat on my skin as though I had had a feverish nightmare. I lifted my fingers to my dry lips and then saw were trembling.

Suddenly, I felt a lightening shock of an icy trail on my neck. A second later, he came into view.

"Edward," I breathed, trying to sit up, about to convince him I was fine. It didn't work, of course. He already knew.

"Bella," he breathed, his icy palms pressing to either side of my face. I physically drooped and sighed with relief, letting my eyes roll to the back of my head, surrendering to the feeling of his sub-zero temperature on my hot skin. "You're too warm," he stated, a deep 'V' appearing between his brows as he frowned.

"What time is it?" I slur, breathlessly, trying to change the subject.

"Just before 7am," he informed me softly.

"How did you sleep?" I asked, my voice still quiet but slightly stronger.

He smiled slightly. "There is so much you have yet to learn, Bella..." His voice was only just above a whisper. "For example, I don't sleep."

I blinked, and tried swallowing again, unsuccessfully. "Not at all? Like ever?" I breathed.

His eyes didn't leave me, his fingers carrying on smoothing my hair. "No."

I leant up a little, my shaky fingers touching the slightly discoloured bags under his eyes, realising that lack of sleep for god-knows-how long was the reason behind them. Though they were not too bold or noticeable, the purplish bags under the eyes were a characteristic single not only to him, but his siblings too. "That's," I began to wheeze, "I would never have," I tried a different sentence when I couldn't get the words out. "That must be...pretty..." I struggled, "miserable."

"Bella," he whispered, distracted. "You don't seem at all well. I'll go and tell Ms Alyson. You can stay in bed."

I gripped his shirt in a weak attempt to hold to me before he could move. "No!" I whispered back quickly, suddenly conscious of the fact that just around the alcove corner were Jessica and Angela. "I wouldn't want to miss anything, or for anyone to worry. I'm fine, really." I paused. "Are they...?" asking of my two roommates.

"No," he replied. "They're both asleep," he murmured, his voice like velvet. Still though, I tensed, worried they'd wake. "Don't worry," he soothed, rubbing a cool hand over my sweat-dried hair. I cringed, not wanting him to touch me when I looked so awful. I felt disgusting. "I can hear their thoughts long before they even react to hearing a noise; long before they even think of getting out of bed." His whisper was soothing, and I slowly lay back down.

"I really need a shower," I whisper, desperate to feel well again.

"I could lift you––"

"No," I whispered. "I don't want to risk you getting caught in here because of me."

He frowned, his fingers so beautifully cold against my skin. "I––"

Then he stopped. I felt my heart thump, instantly thinking the worst.

It was the officials. They'd found me.

But to my huge relief, it was something much less frightening.

"Angela's awake," he said, so low even I could barely hear him.
I had only just had chance to blink, then he'd gone.

"Bella?" questioned the soft voice of Angela. A second or two later so appeared from around the corner. I tried to appear cheery, but knew instantly I was failing miserably. "Are you awake?"

I tried to sit up. "Yes," I whispered. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," Angela giggled. "Except for Jessica's snoring."

My lips twitched weakly. "Oh really?" I tried to sound like I was okay. "I hadn't noticed."

Angela yawned, straightening her glasses. "So... How was it with Edward last night?" she asked, shyly. "Did you have fun?"

I smiled as best I could, thankful that she wasn't the prying type; she was just curious. "It was...interesting to say the least."

"Yes," she agreed in a whisper. "I can imagine. The whole Cullen family are so...enchanting, aren't they? Sounds ridiculous, but I honestly don't think there's another way to describe them."

I ran my tongue along my dry lips, trying to breath evenly. "No, you're right. That's exactly how I'd describe them too."

We were both silent for a minute. "Are you feeling okay? You were speaking in your sleep earlier..."

I would have blushed deeply if I was up to it. "Oh god," I whispered, embarrassment and dread filling me, mostly because if Edward has stayed with me last night then he would have heard everything I said. "What did I say?"

"I couldn't make out any words, just mumbling."

The dread that was bubbling up in me deflated.

"Thank god," I sighed almost inaudibly. "I've been told I speak more when I'm asleep than I do when I'm awake."

Angela whispered a giggle. "I'll make sure not to listen if it happens again, then," she smiled. "Spare you the embarrassment."

"Thanks," I said, although I wasn't even sure if I had said it loud enough to be heard. My head fell back against the headboard as I felt like sobbing. I never cried, but I wanted to right then, just to let some of my feelings out. That was how ill I was feeling.

"Bella," Angela suddenly spoke at normal volume. "Are you alright?"

I tried to look up at her. "No," I croaked. "Not yet I'm not." I frowned. "I really need a shower."

She reached out and helped me sit up and untangle myself from the duvet. "Are you well enough for that? You feel hot."

I shook my head at her worried tone. "I'm fine," I said, taking advantage of Edward's inability to appear in front of Jessica to get out of bed. Being 'fine' really was becoming my most common lie. "I just need a shower to freshen up. I'll be okay."

She didn't seem convinced, judging by the amount of my body weight my legs couldn't support. As a result, I helplessly burdened her with my weight on the short walk to the bathroom as I stumbled along with her. She opened the bathroom door for me and turned on the light, and I made sure to avoid all eye contact with the mirror under such harsh lighting. I already knew I must look like death, because I felt like it.

Angela tapped me on the shoulder moments later as I held onto the sink with one hand. "Here are your things," she said, placing my wash and clothes bags on the floor. "There's a towel on the back of the door. Don't worry about being quick, Jessica won't be conscious for a while yet."

I would have laughed with her at this joke, if I could remember how to laugh at all.

She shut the door behind me, after asking me one more time if I was sure I was okay.

Again, I said I was fine. Again, I lied. It was becoming a matter of course, really.

Once the door was shut and locked, and I was finally alone, I felt my knees give in as I didn't have to pretend I was well enough to stand. Not for Angela, not for Edward, not for anyone. I pressed my forehead to the cool tiles for a moment and attempted to regulate my breathing, not quite believing my luck.

Great, I thought, Just great. I had managed to get ill on the very day that I needed to find a moment to get away from Edward. What were the chances? Now, of course, getting him to leave me even for two seconds would be ten times more difficult because he now had a reason to stick with me. He would be stuck to me like glue as soon as he realised how ill I was, and then I'd have no hope in the world of getting him to let me alone...

I felt hopeless as I stripped off the t-shirt and underwear I had been wearing last night and crawled into the shower. If I had been at all alert I would have been wondering about who had taken off my shoes and shorts when I was sleeping, but it didn't seem to matter at all at that moment. I didn't believe for one minute it would have been either Jessica or Angela, so it must have been Edward who did it when we got back... The idea would have thrilled me if my head hadn't been spinning so violently.

I managed, very slowly, to turn on the water and shampoo my hair while sat on the floor of the shower. After a while, the temperature of my skin was so high I would have sworn it was on fire, though when I looked down at it I realised I had never seem myself more pale and translucent looking before. I struggled to reach to adjust the temperature to cold as my muscles wouldn't obey, but finally managed. The cold water felt like drops of ice hitting my skin, and each one made me want to sing hallelujah. After quite a while, when I was sure my body temperature had leveled, I very slowly turned off the water and then crawled back onto the tiles in the middle of the bathroom, pulling at the towel that had fallen off the back of the door. I tried to dry myself, but my muscles screamed out in protest with every movement. The towel felt too heavy to lift, my arms too weak, so I simply slipped under it, curling into a ball on the tiles.

I have no idea how long I was laid there for, because the only thing I could keep track of was the amount of shallow breaths I took, and I lost count of them very quickly. After a while, I managed to pull on my bra and panties that I had pulled from my bag before the shower, at snail pace, but that was all; nothing else seemed doable. As a result, I fell into another energy relapse after this, laying under my––now practically dry––towel on the cool bathroom tiles again. I knew I should move as it must have been at least twenty-five minutes since Edward had disappeared and Angela had helped me into the bathroom, but for some reason, both my mind and body were not listening. I liked it here, in a room where no one could interrupt the healing process. No one could ask if I was okay. No noise. Not tangling sheets. No suffocating heat. Just cool tiles and silence.

Was I going mad, lying on the bathroom floor as though it were a Hilton hotel king-size bed? Probably. But illness did strange things to even the most sane people, I knew that for sure. So I lay there, and decided to wait until someone, be in Jessica or Angela, called for me. I was in no rush to move, the feeling of sickness too great. I was making the most of my silent, cool asylum while I had the chance.

Though I was craving Edward with his icy touch, burning buttery eyes and velvet voice, I knew that the more time I spent with him, the harder the separation from him would be. I had to at least try and show restraint, because anything otherwise would be cruel, on both of us.

I knew the officials were coming for me, I just knew it, however Edward, even if he had seen the evil little woman in the cloak on the balcony at the plaza, would most definitely refuse to even acknowledge it. He was always so stubborn, just like I, and so he would never admit I was in danger. As a result of his blind attitude, I had to make sure I had a plan, because I was right. I knew that.

My prediction was that very soon they'd come for me and take me away, and that would be it. What would lay in store for me once imprisoned was a mystery, but one thing was for sure; this dreadful pain and suffering I was feeling now was nothing but a simple preview of what was to come.

I couldn't imagine I had much longer to live.

After an unknown amount of time, ten minutes, maybe more, there was a rapid knock at the door. "Bella? Are you okay?" Angela's voice was muffled, but loud.

"Here," I tried to say, but my voice broke. "I'm here." I sat up slowly, pulling on a blue t-shirt from my bag. I couldn't do anything else without sitting down. I had no energy.

I slowly moved toward the door on my knees, again avoiding the mirror, and took a shaking breath as I opened the bathroom door, not even caring about my lack of bottoms.

"You really don't look okay, Bella," Angela said slowly, anxious as I opened the door.

I gave up trying to move, curling into the fetal position on the tiles again. It was then that I felt the familiar siren call, the yearning of my heart; every cell in my body screaming for...him; for Edward.

As though she could read my mind, Angela crouched down beside me, a hand on my hot skin, looking concerned. "Do you want me to get Edward? I'm sure he could stay here with you if you don't want to go anywhere."

I was instantly tried to get up, to protest. I didn't want him to see me like this; he'd worry. However, I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. She took this struggle in her stride, frowning and quickly moving around me.

"Jessica's getting ready in Amy's room across the hall, then I'm going to meet her and go to breakfast." I gagged, the very word making my stomach churn violently. "I'm guessing you won't be wanting anything to eat, so I'm going to see if Edward can care for you while us girls go downstairs."

Again, I found I couldn't contribute to the conversation, though I wished I could.

"I'll be right back, alright? I'm going to find E––"

There was hasty knock at the door, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She left my line of vision, and I didn't even try to follow her with my eyes.

Everything hurt.

Then, heaven. Edward's feet came into view, then his torso and his face as he knelt down beside me. I was still locked up in a ball on the tiles, trying to breathe.

"How long has she been like this?" he asked her, his eyes never leaving my form as his icy hand agonisingly didn't touch me where I wanted.

I wanted to frown. How long have I been like what exactly?
He pressed his palm against my face. He looked attentively at me as he leant down further, his face level with mine. "Bella? Bella, love, can you hear me? Bella!"
"She was in here for over thirty five minutes. I knocked and called for her but it took her a while to respond..." Angela's voice sounded too quiet, even for her. "What's wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?"

Edward squinted his eyes slightly as his angel face came into peripheral vision. It was then I realised that this was not the Edward I had spent the evening with in the restaurant, not the Edward that had kissed me in the woods. No, this Edward scared me, but only because he looked...worried. A super-human, bionic vampire looking worried. Never a good sign.

His nostrils were flared as a frown set into his features. "Some sort of fever illness. As long as the fever is broken, she will be fine," he said, though his words were fooling no one. "You can go to breakfast, Angela. I'll look after her." I heard movements, then Edward slowly collected me into his arms, lifting me with ease. Edward turned to her, delivering a heartbreakingly sincere "Thank you," before she left. I would have swooned if I could.

However, when Angela was gone, the mood shifted in the room. Suddenly, I was lying on my bed, and Edward's beautiful cool touch was suddenly everywhere; my arms, my shoulders, my neck, my face.

"Bella, can you hear me?" I tried to speak, but failed. "Oh, Bella," he seemed to sigh in an almost forlorn nature. "You're burning up."

I tried to be humourous, though I could barely smile. "You don't say."

He growled, somewhat frustrated. I instantly blamed myself. "Sorry," I said as clearly as I could, not even trying to hide the guilt that leaked into my voice. "I'm sorry you...have to do this."

He stopped his quick movements around me abruptly. "What are you talking about? Why are you apologising?"

I closed my eyes against my pillow. "Because I should. Because this is my fault."

He smoothed a hand over my face. "No, Bella. This is in no way your fault, do you understand?" He moved away. "If anything it's mine," he murmured, so low I barely heard.

I groaned. "Don't start that," I said, though my lips barely moved.

"I'll be right back, Bella," he said, using his flawless soft-velvet like tone of voice.

He left, and I closed my eyes, my whole body drumming with agony that didn't seem to have a source. It was as though I was hanging over a bottomless, black precipice and was slowly being dropped further and further into the darkness, only to find that there was a huge fire below me.

I suddenly felt another, stronger wave of illness take over me. I had no idea how long Edward had been gone. Time seemed to stand still. A never-ending rotation of suffering.

I could feel it then, more than ever; the invisible grip of sane, painless life losing its hold on me as I was dropped further into the torturous, burning unknown that was this sickness. It was suddenly building on top of me, as heavy as bricks and mortar; only these bricks were scolding, their heat igniting my skin. I felt myself trembling violently as the fire raced from my chest and my neck to the very tips of my toes. I wanted to scream. I could feel it suffocating me; and although I attempted desperately to keep it all in, to stay silent, biting my lip until it bled, I simply couldn't.

"Edward," I spoke loudly, my voice an irregular pitchy wanton wail of grief for my once healthy self. A cry for help. Make it stop, I wanted to beg. Please. Just do it. "Edward," I felt myself sob throatily, no longer in control of the words that left my mouth. "I'm burning. Please, Edward." Fat tears slid down my face, but I felt no refreshment from them; they were as boiling as my skin. "Edward. Make it stop," I almost screamed, shaking. There seemed to be no concept of time in this state. It felt endless. "Edward, come back," I said, though these words came out much quieter, my throat hurting painfully.I paused, blinking for longer than I needed, trying to calm myself for Edward's sake. When my eyes focused again, he was approaching me, tension now ruling his usually calm and collected expression and posture. I whimpered loudly again, a mix between his name and another word I couldn't place. I bit my tongue then, not wanting to upset him; to hurt him.

"Don't leave me," I whimpered.
"Shh," he muttered, exceedingly shocked as he returned and found me this way. "Hey, hey, shh. I'm going to make it go away, Bella. I promise you. I'm not going anywhere." He then moved away, and I felt my body panic desperately at the idea he was leaving me. I tried to breathe when I realised he was still there, only just out of my vision, lifting something, and through my blurred vision it would be impossible to see exactly what. I heard a hard sound, like small rocks hitting each other as they fell down a cliffside. Then, seconds later; I felt it, the relief of a sudden numbness seeping through me despite the single blanket that covered me. The heavenly feeling was spreading across my scorching skin as Edward carried on moving around me. It was intense. I opened my eyes wider to see what Edward was spreading around and on my body.

It was then I realised: it was ice. Glorious, glorious ice.

He was spreading the ice cubes over the blanket that I lay under. It was thick enough so the water of the melting ice wouldn't soak me through, though I definitely would not have minded if it did. He began to snap what looked like dry-ice packs and placing them around me. He disappeared from view, lowly informing me he was just turning down the thermostat. I was still burning, and whimpering quietly. I felt as though I was not in control of my body at all.

Finally, Edward stopped buzzing around me. He closed the curtains, shutting off the painfully bright light from the window. I caught the image of the side of him moving towards me. I realised he was still blaming himself for this, just as I was blaming myself for hurting him. I trembled more, my eyes clenching shut against the burning.

–––ℬ&ℰ–––