Wake Me When the Hour Arrives

I expected Edward to look absolutely horrified. I expected him to stammer and offer all sorts of useless apologies as he edged conspicuously toward the door. But once again, he did the exact opposite of what I expected. His face melted into an expression of intense sympathy. "That's terrible," he said sincerely. He looked as if he wanted to reach forward and touch me, but he stayed where he was for which I was incredibly grateful.

For the first time in the past three months, I wanted to say something more. I wanted to explain myself, to tell him what had happened and what more needed to be done. I actually wanted to talk. My chest, instead of aching terribly, swelled with unspoken words that threatened to burst and flow out in an overwhelming rush. But before I could say anything more, Charlie arrived.

"Bella?" he asked. He stopped when he saw Edward with me.

"Hello, Chief Swan," Edward said politely. He turned to smile at my guardian, but I could tell that he was unwilling to lift his concerned gaze from my face.

"Hello," he said in confusion. Then he looked at me with worry. "Are you all right?"

"I told you I'm fine," I said quietly. "You really didn't have to come."

"But I wanted to," he reminded me. "Is there anything you need? Like a book or a spare change of clothes or something to drink—are you hungry? I can go run out and get something for you if you are. I think I saw a McDonalds somewhere."

"It's okay, Charlie. I'm not hungry."

"I think I'll give you a moment alone," Edward announced. "If you need me, Bella, I'll be right outside."

I nodded. When he was gone, Charlie turned to me. "So…do they know what's wrong yet?"

"No. They're waiting for my medical history."

Charlie didn't say anything. He looked as if he were hesitating, as if he wanted to say something but he wasn't quite sure how I'd take it. "Bella, I know that you haven't known me for very long, but you can tell me anything. If you want to talk, I'm always here."

There were many people over the past three months that had made this promise to me. The detectives, Mrs. Andrews, and Dr. Levsky being the most recent had all sworn that if I needed someone to listen to me, their ears were always open. But even though Charlie's words weren't at all original, his offer was the most touching. And no matter how much I wanted to take him up on this offer, I couldn't.

"Thank you, Charlie," I said quietly. "You've done so much for me. I don't think I could ever repay you."

He began to look a little uncomfortable. I was beginning to realize that shows of gratitude weren't something he was used to dealing with. "It's no trouble, Bella. You've been very easy to live with. If I had a daughter, I'd hope she was as low maintenance as you are."

Despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitched. Charlie grinned widely and I suddenly wondered how he was still single.

"Well, I'm going to go find Dr. Cullen—he's your doctor right?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to go find him and ask what's going on. I'll be back, okay?"

I nodded again.

When Charlie left, I rolled myself over to the window (which was difficult, since I was only using the non-injured arm) and pulled the blinds open. I couldn't see anything; it was already dark and the bright fluorescent hospital lights glared against the windows, making it impossible to see anything. I was about to roll myself to the light switch when I saw Edward's reflection in the dark glass of the window. I turned around and saw him frowning intensely.

"Bella, what's that on your arm?"

I looked down and inwardly cursed the damn hospital gown into which the X-ray technician made me change. The hospital gown left my left arm exposed, displaying my gauze wrapped wound. "I had an accident," I lied. "It was pretty shallow, but I didn't have a band-aid big enough to cover it."

He looked as if he didn't believe me, but he didn't say anything further. Instead he tried to convince me to take a nap. "You must be really tired. Why don't you go to sleep?"

I shook my head. I knew what awaited me in sleep.

"Well if you're not going to sleep you should at least rest in bed. You probably shouldn't be in a wheelchair right now."

"I'm fine."

Then, so quickly that I couldn't catch his movements, Edward was a foot away from my wheelchair, the door already closed. He took a deep breath and grinned wryly. "Well, I suppose this means I owe you."

My eyebrows slanted downward in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I did propose an exchange and you even exceeded my expectations. You shared two secrets and I have yet to share any."

I couldn't help but smile a little bit. "That's right. You said that two of my secrets were worth one of yours."

He nodded. "I trust you not to divulge this with anyone else," he said, his tone gentle but his eyes fierce. "And I also ask that you keep an open mind before I reveal this."

I nodded gravely. By now, I was a professional at keeping secrets.

He took a deep breath. "I killed a man once."

There was a short pause as the meaning of his words sank in.

He killed a man. He committed murder.

Horror stiffened my muscles when the implication finally reached me—I was in the presence of a murderer. Instead of escaping one, I had found a different set of bloody hands.

His golden eyes turned pleading. "Bella, please, listen to the story first. I have reasons."

What reason could constitute murder? He killed someone—that man probably had a family, a daughter waiting patiently for his return only to realize that he would never come home. His eyes would never open, and his heart would no longer beat. He probably had a wife that loved him and cared for him. He probably had a mother and a father that would mourn the loss and curse the perverted twist of nature; sons were supposed to bury their fathers, not the other way around. What could this man have done to cause Edward to orchestrate all this pain?

"I found a young girl—your age, I would suspect—lying in an alley, alone and bleeding," he began the answer to my unspoken question. "She had been brutally raped and left for dead." And suddenly, Edward was no longer with me. His eyes were far away, reliving the past. The haunted look glinting in his golden eyes and his velvety words washed over me, bringing me with him to his dark memory.

"It was horrific. Her skin seemed to be made of bruises, both her eyes were swollen and there was blood all over her face. Her legs were broken and she was completely naked, lying in a pool of blood and clothes. And though her knuckles were swollen and bleeding—a sign that she had fought back—she was still barely conscious. Barely alive.

"I was livid. I didn't know who this girl was, but what had happened to her was unforgivable. After I called my father and brought him to this girl, I started to search for the rapist. I found the man several blocks away, smug and whistling. I knew it was him—I could see faint flecks of blood on his wrists and I caught sight of a strand of the girl's long blond hair on his trousers. Without thinking about it, I charged at him from the darkness and I killed him."

His eyes lost their glazed quality as he returned to the present and looked back at me. His smile was sad, his golden irises tortured. Despite his justification, he sincerely regretted his actions and my heart swelled with unexpected sympathy for him. "To this day, I wish I had found the police; I never should have killed him."

I could imagine the scene vividly. I could see Edward hunting for the man like some sort of glorious angel of death, avenging the violation of an innocent victim. I could see the terror in the man's eyes when he spotted the dark abyss of Edward's black irises before he died.

"What happened to her?" I asked after I finally managed to find my voice.

Edward's eyes darkened and he looked away. "She died from the blood loss."

I curled my hands into tight fists and they shook against the armrests of my wheelchair. She probably screamed when it happened; why had no one heard her? Why had no one come to her rescue earlier? She could have lived if someone had come to her rescue. Instead they let her cries go unnoticed.

"I don't blame you," I murmured. All my preconceived opinions had flown out the window the moment I heard what had happened to the young girl.

He looked up and his eyes looked faintly…hopeful. "You don't?"

I shook my head. "If I had been in your position, I might have done the same thing."

We stared into each other's eyes and something unspoken but powerful passed between us; I could almost feel Edward's regret and I was sure he could feel some of my pain. We were now privy to one another's secrets and there was no going back. Without thinking properly, I had entrusted my survival to someone I hardly knew. But for some reason, I wasn't worried.

It must have been the apathy kicking in.

Our moment was interrupted by someone opening the door. Dr. Cullen walked in holding what I assumed to be my medical records with Charlie following close behind.

"Well, Bella, your medical history states that you underwent some intense emergency surgery two and half months ago." He frowned at the charts in his hands. "Three of your ribs were broken, and there was some internal bleeding both in your lungs and your brain."

"Does any of this explain what you saw in her scans?" Charlie asked.

"Yes. It just shows that some scar tissue is building up around the suture lines and I wasn't sure what to make of it. You'll be happy to know that there is no lasting physical damage as a cause of the accident and you should be able to go home tomorrow."

"Wait," I protested, "if it's nothing then why do you still want to keep me?"

"It's just a precaution, but I'd like you to stay here for tonight. We're just being thorough."

This was ridiculous. If there wasn't anything wrong with me, then I shouldn't be in a hospital. They should be giving this room to someone who might actually need it. But unfortunately, I seemed to be the only one of this opinion so I began to resign myself to a night in the hospital.

"So she'll be fine?" Charlie asked. "She won't have to come back for a check-up or anything?"

"I would strongly suggest that she come back for a follow up CT in four weeks, but I expect that she'll be fine. You'll have nothing to worry about, Chief Swan."

Charlie sighed with relief. "Thank you so much, Dr. Cullen. I really appreciate this."

The doctor flashed a brilliantly white smile. "If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me."

When the doctor was gone, Charlie turned to me with a wide smile. "Did you hear that, kiddo? You're going to be fine."

I bristled slightly at the term of endearment, but I tried to match his exulted expression. "Yeah, I heard. It's getting pretty late, Charlie. You should probably be heading back."

He nodded and started to walk toward the door. Then his hand paused over the doorknob as he turned back to look at me. "You don't need me to stay with you tonight? I'll stay if you need me. I'm sure the nurses could find me a couch or something—"

"That really won't be necessary," I said, trying to hide my horror at the idea. "You heard Dr. Cullen, he said I'll be fine. Go get some sleep, Charlie. I promise, I'll call you if I need anything."

This seemed to placate him. Without another word, he exited the hospital room, leaving me alone with the enigmatic Edward Cullen.

The man in question turned to me the moment Charlie's footsteps became too faint to hear. "So you've been through a great deal of surgery," he commented with a frown.

I shrugged.

He hesitated before he continued. "Did…did the man who killed your parents try to kill you too?"

My throat tightened and I felt the rolling sensation in my stomach. Luckily I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, so there was nothing to vomit if I lost control. "I don't want to talk about it," I replied shortly. I concentrated on calming the pain in my stomach.

Edward noticed my sudden reaction to his question. "What happened, Bella?" he asked in a voice as soft as velvet and as sweet as the most lilting lullaby. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away; I knew if I saw his beautiful face, everything would come tumbling out and I wouldn't be able to keep the pain away.

"Bella, you can tell me," he prodded gently. "I'll even tell you another one of my secrets, if you want."

No. There were some secrets that I had to keep, no matter what, and this was one of them.

"You should go home, Edward," I said quietly. "Your family will wonder where you are."

I finally looked up. The pain in his expression twisted the omnipresent gutting knife in my stomach, urging me to tell him to stay. And in that moment, I had never wanted anything more than to tell him to remain here with me, to keep me company as I fought off sleep and the inevitable nightmares that threatened me in the distant horizon. The words pushed against my tight lips, desperately trying to escape, to beg him not to leave.

But I fought to still my tongue. I wouldn't force him to bear this burden with me, as it had been imposed on me. This pain was something I had to carry on my own without outside assistance. To ask for help would not only be weak, but selfish. No one should be forced to harbor this torture.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Edward straightened his face into a courteous expression. "Good night then, Bella. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. Carlisle has my number—he'll give it to you if you need."

I frowned in confusion. "Carlisle?"

"My father." His composed face cracked ever so slightly to reveal a slightly anxious but gentle undertone. "Sleep well, Bella. I'll visit you tomorrow after school."

The moment he closed the door behind him, the imaginary blade in my abdomen pushed even farther, until my skin touched the hilt. For the very first time, some of the pain I carried in my heart eased when I told Edward my real name. And I knew why. The secret was growing, getting bigger and bigger, like a massive blister until the pain was too much to ignore. Telling him who I was and why I really was in Forks was like taking a needle to the blister and letting the liquid leak out: painful at first, but necessary to relieve the ache.

And I was left there in that cold hospital room with nothing but my throbbing shoulder. Part of me wanted to leap from that ridiculous wheelchair and run after Edward, to ask him to stay. But another part of me reminded the irrational part of my first reaction to the beautiful creature; the intense pain that twisted my insides when I fell head first into his black orbs, the memories that tormented me relentlessly with full force and vivid clarity. It was ridiculous to regard Edward as more than just a meddling classmate, because even if he did mean well, this was the kind of horror that ended friendships, and Edward and I were nothing more than acquaintances. Perhaps even fond acquaintances.

But what, then, was that strangely intense moment that passed between us after we had finished exchanging secrets? What was that curious relief I felt? It was something akin to that terrible, rotting hole being slowly sewn back together, or the yoke across my shoulders lifting ever so slightly, to give my throbbing joints a much needed reprieve.

He's a murderer, reminded my rational side with unrelenting persistence. He murdered a man in a fit of rage. Who's to say that he wouldn't murder again? What if his temper got the best of him once more and he killed you?

But he murdered with reason, my sympathetic side argued. He murdered in the name of a young girl who was violated. He prevented similar occurrences from happening by the same man. He was a vigilante, but he had a justified cause. And he regrets having taken action in the first place! He knew he shouldn't have done it—that's why he won't murder again.

You hardly know him, sneered my rationality. You don't know that he wouldn't murder again. All you have are his eager eyes and pleading face. Don't fall for his farce.

How do you know it's a farce? My sympathy was stubborn. How do you know that he isn't sincere?

Truthfully neither side had an answer; I, as a whole, came to an uncomfortable impasse.

As the proverbial angels on my shoulders continued to argue, my eyes drooped lower and lower. I was too exhausted from the events of today and a general lack of sleep to put up a proper fight. My body eventually forced my lids closed and threw itself gratefully into unconsciousness. But my psyche cowered in fear, waiting anxiously for the dreaded memories to attack.

"Bella?" a frightened, angel's voice called. The panic tore at my heart.

"Edward!" I called. I frantically searched for a flash of glowing, pale skin through the darkness or the shine of his intense gold eyes.

"Bella, where are you?" The hysteria in his tone climbed to higher and higher registers.

"Edward, I'm right here! Edward!"

"Bella!"

And suddenly, he was there. He stood before me in all his glory, with a beautiful face ridiculously easy to see in the pitch black. His mouth was relaxed in a smile, relieved that he finally found me. "Oh, Bella, I was so frightened. I thought I had lost you."

But something was wrong…terribly wrong.

His eyes were as dark as the day I met him.

"Don't run away like that, okay?" he admonished gently as he walked ever closer to me. "I had no idea where you were. It made me anxious."

Suddenly his pale skin started to tan ever so slightly. The copper hair that splayed across his forehead shortened and darkened to a jet black. Everything about him changed; everything except those shadowed eyes.

"Bella." His velvety voice turned throaty, almost insubstantial, as if he spent his whole life whispering. "Bella, where have you been? I've missed you."

A dim light flashed overhead and I was suddenly able to register my surroundings; I was cornered in a narrow alley, with no means of escape. My throat turned dry when I realized what was about to happen.

"You shouldn't have run away," Alan warned, the smallest hint of a smirk on his face. "You should have known that I'd eventually find you."

"Please," I whispered, "don't do this. Haven't you done enough?"

He went on as if I hadn't said anything. "Haven't you realized, Bella? I know you better than anyone on this planet. I know everything about you—everything from your different smiles to the curves of your body. I know what makes you scream and what makes you squirm. You belong to me."

"No!" I shouted, but it wasn't loud enough. My parched throat prevented me from being heard.

"Yes," he whispered with a growing smirk. "You're mine. Forever."

I knew I had no chance…I knew that it would be useless to try and run. But I did anyway. With as much speed as my shaking legs could muster, I lunged across the alleyway and tried to escape in the tiny space between him and the fire escape. But it was too easy for him to reach out his arm and wrap it firmly around my waist as I ran right into him. "When will you learn that you can't escape?" he whispered tenderly in my ear. "When will you realize that no one will ever love you as much as I do?"

"Let me go!" I shrieked. The sounds of cars speeding on the nearby streets drowned out my desperate pleas. Could no one hear me?

"I can't do that, Bella," he murmured. "I can't let you go. I can't release what's mine."

I struggled against his iron arms. He was too strong.

"Let go of your control, Bella. When you let go, you'll realize that you love me too."

"LET ME GO!"

My eyelids flew open and I slowly realized that I was no longer in the wheelchair. Several pairs of arms were around me and I was fighting to push them off.

"Miss Swan!" Dr. Cullen cried. "Miss Swan, calm down!"

"What are you doing?" I demanded as the remnants of my dream dripped away like watercolors on wet paper. Why were they holding me?

"We're trying to get you into the bed," panted a disgruntled nurse. His arm was around my waist and I was struggling against him the most.

"Let go of me!" I screamed. "Let go of me!"

"Miss Swan, they're only trying to help," Dr. Cullen said in his most calming voice. "You fell asleep in your wheelchair and they thought that you would be more comfortable in the bed."

"No, I wouldn't!" I cried, my voice rapidly climbing with hysteria. "Tell them to put me down! Tell them to let me go!"

"Let her go, she might hurt herself," Dr. Cullen instructed them, his voice ringing with an edge of worry. "Put her down gently."

The nurses set me down on the ground and I immediately scrambled to the corner of the room, as far away from them as possible. All my limbs were shaking and my recently relocated shoulder was throbbing from the effort I had used to fight against them. My breaths ripped themselves from my mouth, tearing at my throat as they went.

"She's having a panic attack," Dr. Cullen murmured to the nurses. "Go get a paper bag."

One of them returned with a paper bag. I took it from him with shaking hands and struggled to get the opening over my mouth. He tried to rub my back comfortingly, but I jerked at the contact.

"Don't touch her," Dr. Cullen warned. The nurse backed away from me as he would from a frightened animal. He joined the rest of the nurses on the far side of the room. I closed my eyes and breathed through the paper bag, concentrating on breathing and quieting the tremor in my limbs.

I heard Dr. Cullen dismiss the other nurses, but I didn't look up. I was too busy trying to calm myself.

When I was finally controlled enough, I opened my eyes and looked up to see Dr. Cullen with compassionate eyes, the same color of gold as his son. "Bella?" he asked gently. "Are you all right now?"

I nodded. My throat was too raw to speak.

"Don't you want to get in the bed? It would be more comfortable."

I shook my head as hard as I could. I didn't want to be within two feet of that bed.

He sighed. "You can't stay in a wheelchair for the night. Would you be more comfortable on a couch?"

I nodded.

He beckoned with his hand for me to stand up and I very carefully pushed against the wall. When I was in a proper standing position, he gestured for me to get in the wheelchair and I sat down. He wheeled me down to the nurse's station and requested a change of room for me, asking for a couch.

When I was finally settled in my new room (as comfortable as I could be on that couch) Dr. Cullen turned the full force of his brilliant eyes on me. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about, Bella?"

I forced my voice to work. "No."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He didn't press the matter any further. He just nodded and turned the light off as he exited the room. When he was gone, I curled up under the thin hospital blanket and focused on breathing deeply. I felt a little terrible for lashing out at the nurses like that—they were just trying to make me feel more comfortable. It wasn't their fault.

And then my stomach twisted with guilt at the inconvenience I had put everyone through. Now Dr. Cullen was needlessly worried about not only the physical state of my head, but probably the psychological state of my head as well. I could only imagine how I looked when I was struggling to get away from the nurses: probably wild with desperation and terror.

I looked up at the dimly illuminated clock on the wall above the door; it read two o'clock in the morning. With a sigh, I rested my forehead against my knee, dreading the coming of a new day.