Happy Thursday. I know you're not reading this. Thanks to you, anyway. You're awesome, and your hair looks fabulous. I love your shirt. Cute toenail polish! Mwah.

Thanks to my betas for being speedy and pretty.

xXxXx

Up With Your Turret

"I should kill him," Bella sighs into the phone. "It's entirely his fault, but I can't even be mad at him. He knows he's not well enough to do things like that… but he doesn't care. He's always had a weak spot for that little girl, and I completely forgot."

Renee makes a sympathetic noise. "How is he now?"

Bella settles into her couch. "Sleeping. He's exhausted. At least his fever broke. I called his dad when he woke up sick yesterday morning, and he told me to wait twenty-four hours to see if his fever comes down before taking him to the ER. I called him again just now, and he told me that since the fever broke, to just keep an eye on him, keep him filled with fluids and let him rest. I guess… well, Dr. Cullen told me that even though he had chemo, it's been about five months – so his immune system is somewhat back to normal. He didn't get as sick as he could have… so I'm grateful."

"Poor boy," her mom says softly. "So, the little girl had the flu?"

"That's the only thing we can think of, Mom. He was in the bathroom cleaning, and Kayleigh ran in there, throwing her guts up. He cleaned it up, helped her out and sat with her for a couple hours until her parents could come get her. He said she was shaking really bad but sweating, so he kept her wrapped up in his jacket while feeding her ice cubes."

"The flu is really contagious even without all of his added complications," Renee says. "I remember you having it as a little girl – it was awful. You were so sick."

"I know. He shouldn't have been around Kayleigh. I can't blame him for being sweet to her, but – "

"Don't be too hard on him," Renee advises. "I'm sure he feels sorry for it now."

Bella takes her hair down from the ponytail, relieving tension in her head. "He does. I haven't said anything to him. He was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, but I'm so stressed out. It's just the flu, Mom. Yeah, the flu sucks, but he's completely out of it."

"Just be there for him, Bella. Is his sister there?

"No. Alice is completely impossible to be around. She's a nightmare. She thinks it's my fault he's sick, since I'm the one that got him the job."

"Edward is a grown man."

"That's what I told her. But I think she just wants it to be someone's fault, you know? Cancer is so random, and as the mother figure in his life, I'm sure she feels pretty helpless. If she can find blame in something, she's going to cling to that. Especially if it's me. We don't really get along."

"Well… how's Emily doing?"

Grateful for the subject change, Bella goes where her mom leads her. "She's okay, I think. I haven't really heard from her. She texted me yesterday morning and said 'I told him. He freaked.' But I never texted her back because I was so worried about Edward. I hope she's okay, but I can't concentrate on her right now. That makes me a really shitty friend, I know."

"Not really. But maybe call Emily and tell her what's going on. She'd want to know."

"I will."

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't get this strength from me, you know. I'm ridiculously proud of you and completely in awe of you."

"Mom…"

"No, listen. When the going got tough, Renee got going." She laughs at her own joke. "There's a lot I'd do differently, but sometimes I think if I hadn't left, maybe you wouldn't be so strong. And your strength is one of your best qualities, even if it's a quiet one. You don't shout from the rooftops about it. Let your mom make some impartial observations, okay?"

"The fact that you're my mom hardly makes them impartial."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're made of tough stuff."

She hears Edward call for her down the hallway, so she jumps up. "Mom, gotta go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay. You're in my thoughts, Bella."

"Thanks." She clicks off while moving down the hallway at an impressive speed. She stops at the doorjamb. "Hey. You okay?"

Edward sits up against the pillows, holding out his cup. "I'm out."

"Dying of thirst?" She grins, teasing him.

"Maybe. Sorry. I just get lonely when you're not in here. I'm glad you had your flu shot. Being by myself yesterday was miserable."

"That was more for your protection than mine. Your dad basically told me to stay away, and cover my mouth whenever I walked in here."

"Yeah, well… I feel better."

"Good. Be right back." She walks to the kitchen and pours him some lemon-lime Gatorade. Something occurs to her as she looks out onto the balcony.

"Edward?" she asks as she walks back into the room.

He quirks his eyebrow as he drinks deeply out of his glass. "What?"

"You haven't smoked in a couple days."

"Don't remind me."

"Maybe… you should make it three days, then four, five, six… every day?"

"Are you suggesting I should stop smoking, Madam Hypocrite?"

She sits down on the bed, patting his covered feet. "Well… yes. You always ask about me smoking all the time, but you get pissed if I suggest that you should quit. I don't get it – that's dumb. Yeah, smoking is ridiculously unhealthy for everyone, no matter what… but you've already stared death in the face – "

" – that's a little dramatic. I just kind of… peeked at death behind my fingers – "

"Shut up. Aren't cancer and lung disease due to smoking in the top three killers for North Americans?"

"Point?"

"You know my point."

He slumps back into the pillows like an irritable child. "I didn't smoke much before I got sick. I was kind of like you, smoking just in a party situation, or whatever. After I was diagnosed, it became, like… a thing. My thing. You know? My one attachment to the normal world. Getting to go outside for a smoke was the best part of my day. The only good part of my day. Chemo, chemo, chemo, cigarette, visitors staring at me awkwardly, chemo, chemo, more visitors, cigarette. The best option is obvious."

"Fine, I'll buy that. But you're not – "

"Am I not?"

"No, you're not. You're not sick."

He pointedly looks around. "Pretty sure I'm all but incapacitated due to a little flu. I think 'sick' doesn't begin to cover it."

"Oh, so, today you want to be sick?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not trying to antagonize you. I'm just trying to get a feel for which Edward is talking to me today."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"A week ago, it was 'I'm not sick, Bella. Stop treating me like an invalid.' Now, it's 'I'm so sick that I'm going to keep smoking cigarettes and killing myself because I'm probably going to end back up in the hospital anyway.' Wow, I wish I could turn things to my favor like that."

"You can."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You can turn the bitch card on and off whenever you please. Being nice when it suits you, then being a total fucking bitch when that suits you, too. Just like now."

"I'm a bitch because I disagree with your smoking?"

"No, because you don't know anything. You weren't there when I was sick. You don't know how bad it was. You can mock it all you want because you see me now, recovering. You have no fucking clue."

"I have not once mocked your illness, Edward. I've only treated it with the same blasé attitude you have. I'm not going to cry over you if you say you're okay. On the flipside, I'm going to be concerned if you get ill, and I'm seeing that you're not okay. And the 'bitch' comments? Yeah, get out of my house with those."

"You're kicking me out?"

"What? Are you crazy? I'm asking you to be a little respectful of me, and not call me a 'total fucking bitch' when I dare to challenge you. If you think that's too hard for you, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry you're ill and scared. I care about you, how you feel. I want to be here for you. But you take me in and then push me away when things resemble hard times. Like my mom said earlier about herself, when the going gets tough, Edward gets going."

He wrenches the bed sheets off his legs. "You're right about that."

She grabs his hand. "You're actually going to leave?"

"Yep." He searches for his shoes.

"You're in pajamas. You're subleasing your old apartment. Where are you going to go?"

He looks at her for a long minute. "Alice's," he hisses, knowing that it's the ultimate blow.

She doesn't even address that. "Sit back down. You aren't well. You're going to kill yourself trying to drive like this. I'm sorry, okay? Let's just drop it."

"No. Fuck you." He shoots out of her bedroom, and she follows on his heels.

"Edward, stop. Jesus! What are you so mad about? I shouldn't have spoken to you about that, I guess, but you're completely overreacting."

He grabs his keys from off the table by the door. "Oh, well in that case, I should just go so I don't need to overreact anymore. Bye." He slams the door behind him.

xXxXx

An hour later, she's sweating harder than she ever has in her life. She doesn't even know if this can be classified as dancing, the pounding of her feet against the hardwood floor and the beat of the music taking form in her blood. She can feel Esme's concerned eyes watching the flow of her legs taking her across the room in leaps, spins and shuffles, but if anyone, Esme understands that demons can only be danced out.

Bella hasn't really danced for herself in ages. A dance without purpose is something different than a choreographed routine. It comes from someplace inside you, someplace deep, dark, frightening. The raw, skinned part of you. Dance in pure form is an exorcism rather than an expression. It's demons and death and the release of those things so the dancer can go on living once more.

When the music stops, she takes in a deep breath and leans against the bar. Esme has a bottle of water in hand, and she presents it to Bella with a small frown.

"Edward had a shift today – he called me to tell me he couldn't come in, that he was sick. Why aren't you with him?"

Bella downs nearly half of the water in two gulps. Wiping her face, she hands the bottle back to Esme, and bends down into a stretch. "We got in a fight."

Esme rolls her eyes. "You two are always bickering."

"It's different this time. Sometimes, he wants to be pitied. Sometimes, he wants me to act like he's not sick. I can't keep up, so I called him out on it. He left. Went to his sister's."

"That shrew? She is so rude."

"How do you know?"

"She came by yesterday, demanding to know why I employed a sick boy. First of all, I said, he is not a boy. He's a man who needed a job. She said, he's only a boy, and he doesn't know what's good for him, and neither do I. She said she was going to get someone to check – make sure my health standards were up to code. I laughed at her. She left."

Bella turns away so she doesn't say all the horrible things going through her mind. "She's seriously unbalanced," she says finally.

"She was a mother, protecting her young. At least, that's the impression I got."

"She doesn't need to threaten you to do that."

Esme laughs. "Oh, hardly. She didn't look smart enough to rub two thoughts together. To think – calling the health department on my studio! The case wouldn't even go through. Of course Edward got sick – he took care of a sick girl." She pats Bella's head. "Ma cherie, do you love your boy?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you love it like you love your dancing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is it a passion that wanes in and out, something you only go back to when you have nothing else?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then all will be well, I think. You told me once, when you were little, 'Esme, nothing will ever make me happier than dancing.' Then, you grew up. You fell in love, and that means everything. That makes you happier than you could have ever anticipated, even if it makes you miserable sometimes."

Bella doesn't talk for a few moments, and when she does, it's in reference to something totally different. "My passion for dancing hasn't waned. I've just been so caught up, and now that Edward won't let me worry over him for however long he's going to be at his sister's, I'm finally worrying about myself. The dance, it – "

" – centers you, oui. No, you do not need to explain. I am just trying to be impartial, a Devil's Advocate. You have to know that this is what you really want. Do you think Edward one day will wake up and feel okay about cancer? Do you think he's going to get less stubborn?"

"I don't know."

"And does that change your mind?"

She ties up her hair into a tight knot. "I've changed my mind more times than I can count, but my heart has remained the same. I'm in this. I can't just back out, not now. And I don't want to. Not because he needs me, but because I need him."

Esme kisses her cheek, and then tells her she's leaving for the day. She reminds her to lock up, and then leaves Bella with her thoughts.

xXxXx

She's cleaning up the studio when she feels someone watching her. The cognizance creeps down her neck like cold rain. She turns, and Edward is in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Hello." She shoves the last of the mats into the closet, closing the door with a sharp slam. "Ready to call a truce?"

His baseball cap is back on. She hasn't seen him in one since Christmas. The sight is strange and unwelcome, although she can't figure out why.

"Come take a walk with me," he invites, nodding towards the grey skies.

She raises her eyebrows. "A walk? It's probably about to rain, and you shouldn't be out in that."

His eyebrows draw together. He hasn't stopped looking at his shoes. "It'll only take a second."

Crossing her arms, she asks, "You aren't about to do something really stupid, are you?"

"Just come," he repeats, motioning with an open hand.

She grabs her things, and then follows him outside. He stands by his car, leaning against the hood. She leans against him, wrapping her arms around his small waist. She can hear the breath rattling in and out of his lungs. He heaves a great sigh, and then returns the hug with a tight squeeze.

"Listen," he starts, backing her away. "I realize how selfish I've been throughout this whole thing."

"Edward, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have – "

He holds up his hand. "You should have. You should've a million times. Or maybe… maybe I just shouldn't have to begin with."

"What do you mean?" She wishes he would just look at her.

"This whole… Bella, it's not fair to you. You're so – you're amazing. Do you know that?"

"No…"

"Well, you are. And it just – the fact that you said 'no', the fact that I haven't shown you that you are, that's my fault. I don't know… I don't know what else to do. I talked to my sister – "

"Oh, I bet that went well – "

"And she agrees with me on this. She thinks… I think, I think that it would be better if we parted ways." He rushes on, like he has a whole speech planned. "It was just the flu. A pretty mild case, at that. The flu. If you were with, I don't know, someone else, someone not me – the flu would have been chicken soup and a good night's sleep and some tissues. With me, it's life alert. That's not fair, hanging on this edge, you with me. Like, if I let go, you're going to fall, too. I can't bear that weight, and you shouldn't, either."

She stares at him. She stares and stares and stares. She wants to know if he really believes what he's saying, this utter bullshit, or if he's really so down that he feels like the only thing he can save is her from himself.

"You are so fucking stupid," she says finally. She rarely curses in situations like these, but she can't think of anything else. 'MORON' is blinking like a vacancy sign in front of her eyelids.

"What?"

"You. Are. So. Dumb." She turns from him, picking up her things. "Fine, try to be without me. If you want to be self-sacrificing for no fucking reason, you go on ahead. I'm tired of playing these games with you."

"Games?"

"Yeah, games. 'I love you, Bella. Oh wait, just kidding, let's break up. Bella, I'm sick, take care of me. Bella, you're coddling me, leave me alone.' Finally, you decide on something you want, and it's this! Fine. Just… fine." She walks away from him, seething. She gets into her car, starts the engine, closes the door, and screams.

It starts to rain. The drops against her windshield sound like bullets. Her ears are ringing, and she's buzzing with adrenaline, fear and anger. Was she really just broken up with? Was he testing her again? Is he ever just going to adore her without fear, like she does him?

She watches him get into his car. He puts his seatbelt on, cranks up the ignition, then puts his forehead against the steering wheel. His shoulders heave, and then she's moving out of her car before she can blink. She slams the door behind her, her mom's words about strength ringing through her.

Edward talks about strength, about holding onto the edge, about not wanting to drop her. In reality, she's pretty sure she's the one holding onto the edge, and him, because she knows she has to be the one to hang on right now. Even though he thinks he's so tough, even though he thinks he can batten down the hatches, he can't hold himself together. She loves him so much that for now, she'll take that burden from him.

She rips open his car door. He looks up, surprised. She unbuckles his seatbelt, moving the wet hair out of her eyes. She grabs his shoulder, wrenches him up, slamming him against the vehicle.

"You aren't leaving me," she says low in her throat, as threatening as she's ever been. "You're the best thing in my whole world, and even if you don't say it, I know I'm the best thing in yours."

"Bella, I – "

"No. Look at me. Tell me, 'Bella, I'm not leaving you.'"

"Stop it."

"No! I know you don't want to leave me. I know you don't, and I don't want you to leave me, either." It's starting to rain harder, so she tries to drag him inside. He stays paralyzed against the car.

"I don't want to leave you," he admits finally, grabbing onto her elbows. "I'm fucking terrified. You're all I – " He breaks off, like he's ashamed to admit it. "You just – you have the world at your feet. And there are men out there, men who can see how beautiful and smart you are, that would snatch you up in an instant and give you everything I can't. A definite future, children… comfort. I've got nothing to offer you but my run down body and the few pennies I can rub together."

"Do you want that? Do you want me with some other man?"

"No, I – " He finally seems to realize it's raining. "I'm freezing."

She nods. "Come on."

She leads him back into the studio, telling him there should be some dry clothes somewhere. She closes the door behind them and locks it, drawing the curtains shut. She sheds off his sopping clothes, the cotton hitting the floor each time with a splat.

His jeans are heavy as she rakes them down his legs, but she gets them off. She hesitates at the elastic of his boxers, but she takes those down, too.

He stands before her, naked as the day he was born. He clenches his fists at his sides, staring her in the eye. He's not erect, so it's nothing sexual, but it's so beautiful. Every scar, every bruise, every protuberant rib. Every layer of muscle, every thin piece of skin, every wiry hair.

He shivers and brings her out of her daze. She leads him into the office, where it's always warmer. He stands awkwardly in the middle as she searches for a t-shirt and sweats. She finds them, and a towel. As she dries him off, he leans his head against her shoulder, letting her take the weight off his mind.

"Thinking about you with another man is one of the most awful things I can imagine," he whispers against her wet shirt.

"You don't ever have to think about that. I'm not leaving you."

"Do you promise? Do you swear?"

"I've sworn time and again," she tells him, drawing away. "I'm not going anywhere, Edward. I'd appreciate it if you stopped running away."

He fists his hand into her hair, right at the base of her neck. She thinks he's going to kiss her, but he just holds her there, staring at her. She stares back, unblinkingly, letting him see.

"I know you're scared," she says. "I am, too."

"You are?"

"Yes," she admits.

"Thank God," he breathes, releasing her. "Bella, I… that was one of my huge problems. You never acted afraid, and I love your bravery, I really do. But you have to be afraid of things like this. To me, you not being afraid meant you not having a grip on reality, on what could happen. Being disillusioned, you know? And then once something happened, you'd realize it was the real deal, and then bolt."

She stares at him, completely winded. The unfailing strength, the constant reassurances, the promises that everything would be okay – she thought he needed those from her. In reality, he needed to know he wasn't alone in his fear, and that she would be there regardless. That she was just as naked as he, in her fear, her hopes, and her love.

"I'm terrified," she whispers.

"You should be."

"You're okay now, though."

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little scare."

"Just the flu?"

"Just a mild case of the flu. I guess I'm stronger than I thought." His shy smile kills her, so she kisses his forehead, still wary of mouth-to-mouth germs.

"You hungry?" she asks, watching him put on the dry clothes.

He nods. "Yeah, starving." He scratches the back of his neck.

"I've got some chicken stock in the fridge. I'll make soup or something."

"Okay. Yeah, I'm tired. Let's… let's go home."

She feels like maybe she should say something cheesy about how she's always home with him, but then she realizes his statement is perfect enough on its own.

xXxXx

And here we go, transitioning into the next phase of Grand Jete. Hope you're still along for the ride. I'm projecting this fic to be about the length of Bare, maybe a bit shorter – 25ish chapters.

Chapter title comes from "Roslyn" by Bon Iver. "Re: Stacks" is my favorite song by them.

See you next Thursday!