A/N: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I don't own anything. Not even Boozeward. He belongs to the fab ladies at WArehab and they can do whatever they want with him (except allow him anywhere near water or feed him after midnight). Thanks so much for all your kind words and encouragement!

I was (and am) a little behind as the result of the WA Epilogue update Saturday, and then I got sick (getting better now, yay!). Had to skip an update. Sorry! Hope you all had a great x-mas!

I couldn't wake up without at least two cigarettes and a cup of coffee. I didn't care if the world was ending. If I woke up to find earth being invaded by some superior alien race, I'd ask them to timeout for like ten minutes so I could look alive.

I'd been living in my childhood home for a good bit, but I still couldn't fathom lighting up inside. Charlie never smoked, or if he did, he'd never told me so. Therefore, his house was in many ways pristine, and I couldn't bring myself to sully it and disrespect him by smoking under his roof.

So, you see, I had this constancy where I would always be found on the front porch after waking up, smoking a cigarette, coffee pot puttering away, lucky pen nestled safely in my hair, trying to convince myself that Forks wasn't the total shithole I knew it was. In fact, Forks was a small town, and people talked—too much. I was sure by now this was common knowledge, which was already weird and a bit creepy.

But when I opened my door to find Edward Cullen's silver Volvo sitting in front of my house, him lounging in the drivers' seat, evidently waiting for me…

Yeah. I was creeped out to the max.

I lowered myself to the steps and glared at him through his window, considering the shotgun in the coat closet. It wasn't entirely necessary, but I hoped that I came off as a little unstable and thus had managed to scare him shitless a time or two. Sadly, it was looking as if I might have failed. You'd think after I pointed a shotgun at him twice, told him to go to hell, and destroyed a few thousand dollars of his money, that he'd get the fucking hint.

Nope.

There he was, head rested back, eyes closed, one hand on the steering wheel and tapping to a beat of the song that was muffled by his closed windows. It took me a literal two minutes to realize that a stack of two-by-fours sat beside my porch.

His door opened, drawing my eyes to him as he stepped out, slamming the door and shoving one hand inside his jeans pocket. The other hand held a large toolbox. "Good, you're up," he said, starting toward me with an emotionless face. I didn't miss his drooping eyes or wrinkled clothes or subtle yawn into his shoulder as he came to stand before me.

He was every bit as beautiful as he'd been all those years ago—if not more so. His hair was a little longer than it had been then, but it was just as lively and vibrant, chaotically elegant. His cheeks had lost their roundness, giving way to sharp features and a well defined jaw. His nose was straight, lips that looked thin when he smiled but looked full when he didn't. His choice of clothing was mostly the same, however: a simple band tee and a pair of jeans that looked well worn.

I inwardly scoffed at this, wondering how in the hell a thirty year old man could get away with wearing a band tee on a weekday. I could imagine him living in his parent's basement or something equally as pathetic. It made me happy.

What didn't make me happy was everything I'd thought before that.

He'd taught me how deceiving beauty could really be.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, gesturing to the wood and finding myself too exhausted to threaten his life or criminal record—yet.

His green eyes shifted to the pile of wood, and he shrugged, explaining dully, "Your railing is bad. You could fall and split your head open or something." Without awaiting my word, he crouched down and began rifling through his toolbox, producing a hammer, a level, some nails, and various other tools that I didn't even recognize.

I scoffed. "Since when do you care whether or not I split my head open?"

He paused, eyes drifting fluidly to mine. I could see the muscles in his stubbled jaw twitch. "I never wanted you to get hurt," he responded, holding my gaze with an intensity that made me shift uncomfortably.

"Yeah, right." I laughed, taking a pull from my cigarette and looking out over the trees. "This from the asshole who used to love watching me trip over his shoes? No one cared about head injuries then."

"I was an idiot," Edward responded, breaking me from my dark thoughts. I found him staring me in the eye, elbows propped on his bent knees, hammer swaying loosely from his fingers.

I didn't argue, instead staring at the hammer in his hands with a void face.

I hated that I was remembering these events, with a frustrating frequency now that Edward had somehow managed to reemerge into my life. I'd left it all behind for so long and chalked it up to a simple bad high school experience, and I'd been okay with that.

The truth was, however, that falling on my face during assemblies and having my books knocked from my arms and falling on my ass when I'd have to dodge an intentional volleyball spike had been more than simple bad experiences.

Spitefully, I mused, "Charlie was so pissed off back then that he almost pulled me from the school all together—you know, whenever he saw the bruises. Idiocy is when you leave your keys in the car to run into a convenience store. What you and James did was cruelty."

Edward's eyes jerked to mine then, a vibrant and stunned green, and I immediately regretted having started this conversation. "Bruises?" he asked, neck snapping back, appalled. "Jesus, we never hit you or anything—"

I held his stare and my teeth gnashed painfully. "I was a ninety pound, fourteen year old girl. Yeah, bruises are what happens when some dickhead shoves a stack of ten-pound textbooks from your arms, or makes you faceplant onto the gym floor, or—I don't know—shoves you inside a locker or something."

The silence was thick and deafening as he gawked at me, mouth opening and closing with lost eyes that I couldn't even look at. I was ashamed for revealing my own physical inadequacy all those years ago. I'd always made it a point to never let him see my injuries. I'd never cried at school. I'd held it all in until I'd gone to bed at night, and even then, my tears were out of anger, never pain. I'd been a bit of a loner, but always well liked among my peers. I'd had friends and the whole cushy teenage girl package, in fact. If it hadn't been for Edward and James, it would have been perfect.

Waving my hand, I uttered, "Whatever," anxious to take attention away from myself.

Unfortunately, he responded, in this kind of pained whisper. "I liked seeing you riled up, and I was... not that it's any excuse, but I was used to being rough with other guys, and I didn't even think—I'm sorry, Isabella, truthfully. If I could go back—"

I halted him with a shake of my head, palm raised as I stood. "I don't care, okay? It is what it is." And that was the truth. Those experiences had shaped me into a stronger person, which was the bright side I always struggled to focus upon. He couldn't take that away.

"No," he demanded, returning to his stack of wood with a locked jaw. "It was what it was. What it is now, is me trying to make it right."

"I don't want your help," I insisted, rubbing the heel of my palm into my forehead. "I can afford to pay someone to fix it." This was another secretly unbearable notion—that Edward thought me some grieving, down and out waitress. I was more than that. I had money and a degree, and I was better than he'd ever know with his band tees and wrinkled jeans and trust fund.

He emitted a groan, fingers rubbing his temples. "Just let me do this one thing? I—I know the Chief would hate himself if you ever got hurt because he couldn't keep the house up. Consider it a favor to him instead of you, if that's what it takes." He looked to me wearily, slumping a bit as he licked his lips and added, "Just the railing, and I won't do anything else, okay?"

I folded my arms across my chest and curled my fists, longing for my cup of shitty coffee. "How much do you charge?" I intoned in a growl, curling my toes in anger.

He shook his head. "Nuh uh. It's not a favor if you pay me."

"I don't want any favors!" I maintained, battling the urge to stamp my bare foot. Or shove it up his ass…

He was relentless as he huffed, "For the Chief, remember?" He tilted his head and lifted a hand, squinting as he tried to block the ray of sun that suddenly broke through a random cloud as he stared up at me. It cast shadows against his face, and I felt my breath catch as it illuminated his sharp features.

I quickly looked away, inwardly berating myself for remembering him as I had back then. "I'm paying you back the four thousand dollars," I informed, mentally locating my checkbook because honestly, who in their right fucking mind pays someone that much in cash?

He shrugged, stating plainly, "Fuck the four thousand dollars. I don't want it. I was giving it to you anyway."

"And I wouldn't have accepted it," I pointed out.

"Goddammit!" he exclaimed, shooting to his feet and staring to my eyes with an alarming passion. "If you want me to beg, I'll do it. Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to beg you to let me do this? Fuck it, I'll do it. I'll beg. I'm not asking for much. You just have to go inside, and I'll do it and if you're going to make me beg, then I'll beg." His chest heaved as he puffed, but his face made it evident that he honestly would have dropped to his knees and begged me.

Fuck all that.

Irritated beyond what any person should be before they've had their cup of coffee, I shook my head, relenting, "Whatever. If it'll get rid of you." It was worth it. I was thoroughly sick of dealing with him.

He swept his hand before his torso grandly, uttering a sarcastic, "Thank you, oh so very much."

I turned on my heel and stomped into the house, slamming the door. He seemed to enjoy demolishing the old structure far too much, and I could hear his hammering, crashing and bashing and causing me to dive for my headphones to drown him out.

---

"What can I get you to drink?" I asked my customer, clicking my pen and holding it to the pad of paper. You know those waitresses who can take the whole table's order and remember it perfectly, without ever writing it down?

Yeah, evidently, I wasn't that waitress.

The Lodge was pretty bare, since it was Tuesday night. During the weekdays, I found they only staffed one waitress, while on the weekends, we had pretty decent numbers. Actually, it was rather boring. Actually, I was always bored. There was never anything to do or anywhere to go or anyone to talk to.

The girl hummed as she furrowed her brows at the menu, asking, "Is the tea sweetened? I have this new thing for sweet tea. It's not very common here, no?" She glanced up at me and smiled.

"Um," I scratched at my head, remembering, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we have sweetened tea. Would you like to start with an appetizer? Today's special is stuffed artichoke with—"

"Oh, no. No appetizer." She seemed to be staring me up and down, flicking the corner of her menu as she cocked her head. "You're Isabella Swan," she declared.

I cast a sardonic glance to my nametag, battling the urge for sarcasm as I replied, "Yeah, that's me."

Her smile grew wider as she extended her hand, her inky hair appearing thorny with its many uneven layers. I took her hand and suppressed a sigh. Some of the people in this town were annoyingly friendly. It wasn't that I was purposely isolating myself, but perky people annoyed me. "I'm Alice," she introduced. Once she released my hand, she folded her arms on the table, adding, "Alice Cullen."

Jesus…

I raised my eyebrows, nodding with a rock on my heels. "Ahh, you must be the wife."

Confusion colored her features before her eyes grew, her head shaking with vehemence. "Oh, God no. Edward's my brother." She did a kind of half giggle, half shudder.

"Oh," I breathed, my brow pinching involuntarily. "I didn't know he had siblings."

She shrugged, bobbing her head as she explained, "I was in middle school last time you lived here, so we never met."

After a brief silence, I ventured a slow, "Okay. So… I'll be back with your drink." She flattened her napkin in her lap as I spun around, placing her order with the kitchen staff.

I didn't really suspect much about her presence at first. She ordered her food and asked for a drink refill twice, but I could feel her eyes on me as I filled the salt and pepper shakers and made myself busy preparing for the dinner crowd later that evening.

"Is there something you wanted?" I ultimately asked as she remained at her table, long after she'd finished eating. She was just… sitting there, watching me as she sipped at her tea and occasionally cocked her head to the side with a thoughtful expression.

She straightened in her seat and rolled her eyes. "I'm really transparent, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I replied curtly.

"Can you sit down and talk, or…?" she glanced around, noticing there were no immediate customers.

I flopped into the seat before her, deadpanning, "Five minutes."

"It'll only take three." She winked, curling her shoulder and arms inward as if cold, suddenly timid. "Edward didn't ask me to come here. Actually, I'd really appreciate it if this could stay between us."

I looked at my wrist, tapping as if I had a watch.

Her smile fell a little and she leaned forward, starting. "You hate Edward, and I get that." Her eyes were a stormy grey as she met my gaze, somber. "Words can't even describe what he did to my family. Most girls think back on their teenaged years and remember dances and first kisses. You probably remember something else, and I'm sorry for that. I mostly remember my mother crying every night and my brother getting into fistfights with my dad. Nothing in our house was ever permanent. He'd steal anything and everything, sometimes leaving for weeks on end and only coming home to ask for money or cause us all grief. I won't get into the gory details or anything, but it was hell. He ruined what was supposed to be some of the best times of my life and I'll never be the same as I was before..." When she paused, her jaw was locked so tight that her lip trembled.

"None of us will," she continued. "It was just Edward and his selfishness, and… he poisoned everything. He… he was abusive, and I know people think of abuse as hitting with fists, but Edward liked to hit with his actions and words. I can't even really describe it." She brought a finger to her lips, gnawing on her fingernail and furrowing her brow, as if trying to find adequate words.

"He sounds like a real monster," I offered sympathetically, knowing first hand. I didn't doubt any of it. I'd only had to put up with his callousness for a mere six months and at least, once the bell rang, I'd escaped his cruelty. This girl had had to share her home with him.

She nodded her head, face stoic. "He really was a monster. I just wanted you to really comprehend how much I hated him, because maybe it'll make more of an impact when I tell you that he's not that person anymore." She smiled softly, her shoulders seeming to relax as she uttered the words.

I threw my head back and laughed, declaring, "Five minutes are up."

When I stood, she lurched up, grabbing my wrist. Her face was fervent as she gently held me in place, imploring, "Please, just understand. He's been trying so hard and it breaks my heart to see him try and try and get nowhere with you. If I can forgive him, then anyone can, please believe that. He thinks he doesn't deserve forgiveness, but he does, because once you give it him, you'll find that he's been hiding such a beautiful person." Her plea was amplified by the glittering of her eyes under the ambient lights of the dining room.

I pulled my wrist from her grasp, unable to deny her sincerity or my own curiosity. "How long has he spent making it up to you?" I wondered. I couldn't be as frigid as she'd made me feel by suggesting that he'd done worse to her and received her forgiveness with more ease.

She sighed, dropping her head minutely. "A year, but—"

"A year!" I screeched with incredulity. "Jesus, Alice, that's not a change, that's just a vacation."

"No." she shook her head, and even though she was shorter than me, her conviction made her seem taller as her spine straightened. "It's not temporary, believe me. He really means it. He's really changed, just give him a chance, and you'll see for yourself."

I ridiculed her with a chuckle, pointing out, "You could audition to be a battered wife right now."

Her head kept shaking as she removed her jacket from the chair, stuffing her arms into the sleeves. "I'm not some moronic little girl, I just know my brother better than you do. But you know what? Whatever." She tossed her napkin down and didn't even bother tipping me as she stepped away from the table, shoving her little purse up her shoulder until it was tucked tightly beneath her arm. "This is bigger than you and bigger than Edward. There are people who can see past their bitterness and thaw out their hearts long enough to see him for the person he's become. Trust me when I say, those people do actually love him and you're making us suffer too." With that, she stiffly brushed past me, exiting the restaurant and leaving me standing there—fuming.

How dare she guilt-trip me? For standing up for myself, for sticking to my guns, for having integrity, for not being stupid enough to actually believe that someone can have a total personality transplant within a years' time? It wasn't my fault she was weak and let him wiggle his way back into her family, only to cause them this so-called "suffering."

That was his fault, not mine.

By the time I clocked out, I was downright furious and sick of Forks. Apparently, Edward was the new golden boy of the town, which was simply absurd. The entire population was suffering from a serious case of dumbass.

It was raining as I drove home, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles ached. I couldn't wait to get into a nice, hot bath and get shitfaced drunk. When I thump-umped into my driveway, I got out and slammed my car door, stomping up the path and making the puddles splash around the hem of my slacks.

I trudged up the steps, which I found to be just wet enough to be slippery. My shoes were those half dressy, half comfortable types, and the soles were too smooth to find traction as my clumsy stomps made me miss the top step. A gasp escaped my mouth as I slid forward, rocking back and grabbing blindly for something to hang onto.

My palm wrapped around wet wood and jerked my body forward, my chest hammering as I steadied myself, breathing a large and relieved sigh. It was then that I looked down, stroking the new, bright maple wood of Edward's railing and peeking over my shoulder at the slab of concrete that would have likely split my head open, had I fallen.

But I hadn't.

---

It was four days later when I awoke to the same silence as always, though earlier than usual, having been off the night before. I'd also managed to buy some sheets for my bed, but other than that, everything was the same. I sloppily threw my hair up, secured it with my pen, cranked up the television, started my coffee, searched high and low for my cigarettes, and unlocked the front door to greet my crappy day.

The only thing different was the stunned Edward I found standing beside my porch, a paintbrush in hand. Half of the railing looked stained and darkened, while a large can sat nestled in the grass beside his feet.

He looked guilty and awkward as he stammered, "Uhh," and held the paintbrush like it was the cookie he'd just got caught stealing from my cookie jar. I rubbed at my eyes as he lowered the brush, explaining, "I know I said I wouldn't come back, but I forgot that I should probably weatherproof the wood, you know, with all the rain. I figured you'd be sleeping." After a long silence of my staring and his shifting uncomfortably, he glanced down at the wood, shrugging. "I also just really needed the distraction. I'm sorry for bothering you." He put the brush to the wood, cautiously assessing my reaction to him continuing.

I grunted in response as I collapsed onto the step and lit my cigarette. It was so quiet that I could faintly hear the putter of the coffee pot, Edward's paintbrush making gentle swishing sounds as it darkened the wood of the railing, and distant insects chirping.

"The yard looks like shit," I noted in a thick voice that made me cringe. I cleared the sleep from my throat and looked over the lawn, the five lines he'd cleared already beginning to grow back with a vengeance. That was another downside of rain.

He hummed flatly in response.

I rubbed my ankles with my bare toes, avoiding his gaze as I kept my head down. In a steady voice, I offhandedly commented, "It'd be really nice if I had someone to mow it for me." The swishing of his brush abruptly ceased and I finished my cigarette, craving the coffee I could hear finishing in the kitchen. I stood and finally met his gaze, scratching my elbow and shrugging at his confused expression, waiting.

He nodded once before I turned and the swishing continued, accompanying the sounds of my footsteps as I left him to his task, unhindered.

A/N: PastyP, RevvyR, FrenchyB, and EZR-Angel did the beta/preview/talk a lot thing.

I haven't been able to read so much over this last week, so I'm going with safe recs and saying that my fave fics of the year are...

For all-human,The Tutor by ItzMegan73. This is a completed high school fic that I won't even attempt to summarize, as I'd never do it justice. Her other fics are just as awesome. Also, Burn and Shine by PulsePoint. Rebelward and Rebelsper. Yum. And Fault by Ineedyourswayy is still owning me just as much as it did the first day I added it to alerts. For alternate-universe, I ADORED Gravity by The Artist Formerly Known As Nightshade (Racketghost). Best damn New Moon AU ever. EVER. All of these are in my faves list. XD

Hope you all have a wonderful and safe New Years Eve!

See y'all next year!