Authors Note:

Wow, you guys are so amazing. Truly touched by the reviews last chapter. Wish I had the time to respond to each one, but I get the impression y'all would rather I spend my time getting the next chapter out. ;-)

Disclaimer:

S. Meyer owns Twilight. While I borrowed several obvious quotes from her books, no plagiarism is intended.

EPOV

The sensation of shaking creeps through my unconsciousness. It ceases, but something remains pressed against my shoulder. I try to slip away again, but the shaking returns, harder this time. It stops then starts again, and I groan.

"Edward. Edward, wake up, Son."

"Huh?" I lift my arm from over my eyes, blinking several times in the dim light. Disoriented and confused, I twist my head around and attempt to assess my surroundings: coffee table, leather chair, flat screen. I still have my shoes on.

"Edward."

I jump, startled by the close proximity of the voice, and turn my head toward the sound. Carlisle is leaning over the back of the couch, his hand gripping my shoulder.

"What are you doing on the couch, Edward?"

"She was crying," I mumble, my words barely coherent.

Carlisle's brow furrows in confusion. "What?"

I rub my eyes roughly, trying to coerce my mind to wake up. "What time is it?"

"It's five-thirty in the morning. I'm going to the hospital."

The word 'hospital' sends a shock through me. I sit up abruptly and turn around to face Carlisle, my sudden movement forcing him to straighten up and step back.

"Is she OK? What happened?" The panic is clearly evident in my voice.

"Edward, calm down. What on earth are you talking about? And why are you sleeping on the couch? I thought you were staying with Jasper."

Glancing around again, I try to better orient myself. The windows along the far wall are still dark, as well as the majority of the first floor. I turn back to Carlisle, factoring in his appearance: blue dress shirt, slacks, white lab coat.

He's not taking Bella to the hospital; he's going to work.

With a deep breath, I relax and sink back against the cushions, rubbing my hands fiercely over my eyes again. "Sorry," I mutter.

"I guess I should have let you sleep, but I was surprised to find you here, and I wanted to make sure you were OK."

I'm not sure how to respond to that. If she's not OK, neither am I.

"She's sick," I say softly.

Carlisle doesn't acknowledge my statement right away, but his troubled sigh tells me he knows exactly what I'm talking about. He walks around the couch slowly and sinks down onto the far end.

"I know." His voice is grave.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know I couldn't do that," he chides. "In situations like these, it's important to establish a level of trust between doctor and patient in order to - "

"Don't feed me that crap," I huff. "She's going to starve to death while you're still trying to establish some bullshit connection."

"Edward, I -"

"Look, I get the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing, I do, and I don't mean to criticize your work or whatever, but it's been what… a month already, and it doesn't seem like it's getting any better."

Carlisle studies me for a second, and the look he gives me is one I've never seen before. Pity? Sympathy? Understanding? He twists in his seat, tucking one leg under the other while throwing his arm across the back of the sofa as he turns his body to face me.

"I understand your frustration," he says. "It's hard to watch someone you care about go through something like this."

Unsure of how to respond, I lean forward and lace my fingers together, studying the movement of my hands to avoid looking at Carlisle. After months of hiding my relationship with Bella, and his adamant disapproval of it, it's strange to hear him speak so casually about my feelings for her.

"I was under the impression you were staying with Jasper," he says.

The confusion on my face is only emphasized by my jumbled reply. "I am. I mean I was… I guess."

"Well, how often do you talk to Bella?"

If he asked me that question a month ago, I would have seen it as an attack, his sole purpose to pry into every inch of my life. I would have immediately gone on the defensive. But today, his calm voice and the genuine concern in his expression eases my suspicions.

"Last night was the first time I've seen her since I…" The words stick in my throat. "Since the day Jacob punched me."

"Oh." Carlisle sounds surprised and considers my answer for a moment. "That must have been quite a shock to see her so changed after all this time."

I just nod.

"And did you have an opportunity to talk to her?"

"Yes," I answer suspiciously.

"I don't mean to meddle in your conversation; I was just wondering if she seemed upset about the… repercussions of yesterday's events."

"You mean her suspension," I say flatly, annoyed by his attempt to be cryptic.

"Yes. I'm sorry to be so obscure. I wasn't sure how much she shared with you."

Probably a hell of a lot more than she's told you.

That thought makes me pause. It was simply a reaction, an ingrained response from years of fighting against him, but my theory is likely valid. Bella did divulge more to me last night than anyone else. She said so herself. All she's told Carlisle is that she's having trouble sleeping. For a long moment, I calculate the damage of betraying Bella's confidence, again, against the harm of not telling Carlisle what I know. It's really an idiotic argument, considering her life depends on the knowledge I have and what I do with it.

"Edward?" Carlisle asks suspiciously.

I ignore him, still wavering, but my silence apparently gives away more than I realize.

"Edward," he pleads. "Bella is sick, and she needs help. Any information you have could be vital. Bella has not been willing to discuss this with me, or anyone else for that matter, but if she has confided in you then I…" Carlisle pauses for a moment, likely choosing his words carefully. "Well, I hope you would tell me so that I can help her."

I let out a deep breath and allow my words to escape before I can reconsider. "I didn't know about any of this. Emmett only told me yesterday after she collapsed at school. He told me you had been working with her but she wouldn't talk to you, and he thought maybe I could help. He wanted me to talk to her, but I didn't think it was a good idea. I was going to leave and go back to Jazz's house, but when I went to my room to get more clothes, she was asleep in my bed."

Carlisle looks baffled by that detail, but I ignore it. "I didn't mean to wake her up but…" The memory of her cowering away from me sends a wave of fresh pain through my chest, and I have to clear my throat to continue. "She told me she got suspended, that she has lost twenty-two pounds, that she weighs eighty-nine pounds now, and that she hasn't eaten anything since she came back from visiting her mom."

As I'm rattling off the essential details of our conversation, Carlisle reaches into his lab coat and produces a small notebook and a pen. Using the coffee table as a desk, he begins frantically scribbling notes in his chaotic doctor handwriting. The inscription looks more like a letter from a crazy person than useful information.

"Nothing?" he asks, not even looking up.

"Nothing," I confirm. Carlisle shakes his head, the concern evident on his face.

"I was starting to suspect that might be the case," he mutters.

"She also said that water is starting to be difficult," I add, my eyes flashing back and forth from his notebook to his face, watching for any signs of alarm. "But I don't know what that means."

Carlisle doesn't slow his writing as he explains. "It can mean a few things. Victims of starvation are often too weak to sense thirst, but I don't believe she is to that point yet. More than likely, her ability to consume anything is beyond her control."

"What does that mean?"

"If Bella has been refusing to consume food for this length of time, her body might not be able to tolerate it. It will take awhile before she is able to eat normally again."

Carlisle stops writing, but keeps his eyes fixed on the table. I'm hesitant to interrupt his thoughts, but too many questions are racing though my mind to remain silent.

"So she's… anorexic?" I ask carefully.

"Well, I thought that's what we were dealing with at first, but now…" Carlisle taps his notebook with his pen. Something written on the page distracts him, and he adds several small annotations in the margin. He looks like a child, enthusiastic about solving a new puzzle. After a moment, I start to wonder if he's forgotten his disjointed statement, or that I'm even here. I'm about to press him for more when he sits back and continues his explanation.

"You see, anorexia is usually more about having a distorted self-image, a… refusal to maintain a healthy weight. From what you've told me, I believe what Bella is doing is more along the lines of self-starvation.It's a condition that is sometimes brought on by deep depression. Anorexics will actually eat about 600-800 calories a day. Bella's case is far more dangerous. She is taking in nothing and burning off any reserves at a rate much higher than normal, as she has continued dancing all this time. If this continues much longer, and at the rate she's losing, she could do irreversible damage to herself."

"Can't you do something? We can't just sit back and let her continue to do this to herself."

Carlisle's initial excitement over the new information visibly fades. He places his pen down next to the notebook and twists his body to face me again. "I wish there was some easy cure, a magic pill I could give her to make her well again but, unfortunately, the only way she will ever get better is if she chooses to do so. So far, she has not given any indication that she's even willing to try."

I turn away from him, slumping forward to hold my head in my hands. I feel Carlisle's hand rest gently on my shoulder and the cushion I'm sitting on shifts as he moves closer to me.

"Edward, it's going to be all right. I'm going to do everything I can. You know I would never let anything happen to her."

"This is my fault," I mumble to the floor.

"No, Son, it's not."

I straighten up abruptly, forcing Carlisle to drop his hand. "How can you seriously say that? She's been doing this to herself since the day I left her! How is this anything but my fault?"

"You are not to blame here, Edward," he says sternly. "Bella started down this path long before you met. It was only a matter of time before it caught up with her."

With a groan, I push myself up from the couch, pacing the length of the coffee table as I tug at my hair. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but please stop. I'm not fucking stupid. Jumping from not eating enough to complete starvation doesn't sound like simply 'catching up' to me."

Carlisle nods slowly. "All right, I'll admit her recent behavior is extreme and not typical for someone with this type of history, but it's imperative you understand that Bella has been… flirting, if you will, with this problem for years. The elements were already in place, just waiting for some catalyst to bring down the proverbial house of cards."

"Right, so we're back to me."

Carlisle huffs. My refusal to let go of my guilt is undoubtedly frustrating him. "Edward, if anyone is at fault here, it's me."

My hands fly up in frustration as I roll my eyes. "Oh, please don't start this shit again. Why do you keep doing this! You wanted to take the blame for my car accident, and now you're doing it again with this." I wave my arm toward the second floor.

"What I mean is, it's no one's fault alone. We've all had a hand in creating this situation."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask sarcastically. "Did you break her heart too?"

A contemptuous glare is all I get in response. Shaking my head, I slump down into the armchair next to Carlisle, pressing the heel of my hands into my eyes.

How many times - how many ways, am I destined to fuck up her life?

"Bella's part in this is obvious," Carlisle begins. "When her father informed me of her condition, he said two specialists in Phoenix had seen her last year. At that time, she was healthy enough that her doctors didn't feel the need for aggressive treatment. She was given specific weight and nutrition goals, but she didn't fulfill them, and no one ever followed up to see if she had."

"Yeah," I breathe with an exasperated sigh. Carlisle's attempt to console me only manages to frustrate me further. "Bella told me about her doctors in Phoenix, but she made it sound like it wasn't a big deal. I guess… well, last night she said she didn't think she had a problem until this happened."

"That doesn't surprise me. Bella said as much the night I discussed her medical history with her."

The reminder of that night triggers my memory, and I stare at Carlisle with wide eyes. "She told me that's why she got to stay when her dad was pissed about the music video. She said you convinced Charlie that if she stayed here you could help her."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Well, what happens now that she's gotten worse?" I ask with alarm. "Is Charlie going to force her to go home?"

The look of sympathy I saw on Carlisle's face before returns. "I've spoken to Charlie several times over the last few weeks, and briefly yesterday after Bella's incident. We discussed a few options now that the situation has escalated. I have a number of colleagues that specialize in eating disorders. They have all offered their services, naturally, as well as recommended several doctors and treatment centers in Arizona. I believe -"

"But, what about her school?" I interrupt. "If she leaves, she'll lose everything. She'll lose her scholarship." I pause, wondering if it's already been stripped from her. "Does she still have her scholarship?" I ask cautiously. "Or is that over because of the suspension?"

"The suspension is contingent on Bella making an effort to get well. Once again, she has been given specific weight and nutritional goals that she must meet. As soon as she shows some progress in the right direction, her scholarship will be reinstated, and she can return to class."

The small relief I feel is quickly washed away when Carlisle leans forward, his expression apprehensive.

"I was actually hopefully that this… punishment would motivate her, and I expressed this idea to Charlie yesterday along with an invitation for Bella to remain with us. However, in light of the information you've given me, I'm afraid we don't have time to wait and see if it has encouraged her to alter her behavior. I'm afraid I will have to insist on more aggressive treatment options. When I do that, I'm certain Charlie will want her to return to Phoenix, as the treatment center there is one of the best in the country."

In my mind, I see Bella locked up in some depressing hospital room with puke green walls and garish florescent lights. The room in my mind resembles a prison cell more than a hospital, but that's probably because the idea is a death sentence, not a step in the right direction.

I shake my head fiercely. "No, you can't do that. She can't be locked up in some rehab hospital. You know they won't let her dance in a place like that. You can't take that from her. That would only make it worse."

"I'm sorry, but her health is far more important."

"Can't you give her some time? Just see if she'll choose to get better on her own? She gets that she has a problem after what happened. Doesn't that mean something?" I realize I'm begging like a child, but I don't care. "Maybe she'll be willing to work harder now. Can't you just give her a little more time before you condemn her? "

"Edward," Carlisle scolds my choice of words.

"Please," I beg.

Carlisle thinks for a moment and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Forty-eight hours," he announces decisively. "That's all. If I don't see any progress in that time, I will have to intervene."

Two days. Only two days to break through what she's refused to acknowledge for years, what I managed to exacerbate to a new extreme in the last month. Even as I try to imagine that she can do it - that she can fight this - I can't push away the crushing reality that she likely can't do it alone.

I glance at Carlisle as I realize Bella hasn't been fighting this battle alone. He's been trying to help her; he's been there the whole time, and all she's been willing to fight against is him. As I remember his words to me, the whole situation becomes hauntingly familiar.

"I knew you were in trouble. I knew you were headed down a dangerous path. But I couldn't figure out how to get through to you. You just continued to defy me at every turn. The more I pushed, the more you pulled away."

I recall the last few years - my resistance, my defiance, my stubborn refusal to accept Carlisle's help - but this time, I see it all from his perspective. From this standpoint, feeling frustrated and desperate as I watch someone I love resist what I know is best for them, I finally understand how he must have felt.

"Thank you," I say softly. The words feel inadequate, but I don't know what else to say. "All you've done is try to help. I don't understand how you could ever think any of this is your fault."

Carlisle sighs and shifts his weight uneasily. "Given the information I had at the time, I should have considered how asking you to end your relationship might have affected her. I was so fixated on Bella's future, on the possibility the plans for her life could be marred by your attachment to her that I…"

He pauses, and I stop rubbing my forehead as I look up. I didn't realize I had been doing it until the movement stopped. Carlisle studies my expression, and I guess what he sees causes him to change his tone.

"I'm sorry to bring this up again," he says solemnly. "All I'm trying to say is that I couldn't focus on the here and now. I was overly concerned about preserving her life's work, and if I'm being completely honest, I never gave your feelings for each other any merit." Carlisle chuckles softly. "Your mother was quite adamant about setting me straight on that account."

"Emmett said you two were arguing. Is that why?"

"Yes. Well, sort of." He chuckles again. "I didn't tell your mother that I saw you with Bella that morning. I was angry with her about keeping this from me. It wasn't until a week later, the day you left to stay with Jasper, that I confessed I knew the secret everyone had tried to keep from me. When I told her what I said to you, that I demanded you end your relationship with Bella, she didn't speak to me for a week. I don't think that constitutes arguing."

I smirk. "No, I guess not."

"Nevertheless," Carlisle continues, his tone serious again, "although Esme understands the struggles Bella could face, just as she did with the negotiations for her book, she was angry with the way I handled the entire situation. She feels there has to be another solution."

"Did Bella ever tell you what I said to her that night? The night that we – that I…" I struggle to say the words, but thankfully Carlisle comes to my rescue.

"No. On the few occasions your mother and I have had a chance to speak with Bella, our discussions have focused on her current health situation."

I nod, grateful they never brought up the topic.

"Your mother was also upset because, while I was worried about protecting Bella, I failed to consider how this would affect you. She was quick to point out how much you've changed just by having Bella in your life, and how much you loved her."

Mentally, I correct him. Love, not loved.

"We also argued because your mother wanted you to come home, but I wanted to give you the space you asked for. I felt that was important for us," he gestures to the gap between us. "Granted, had I known you would stay away this long, I probably wouldn't have agreed so easily. However, at the time, my intention was to demonstrate that when I said I was working toward trusting you again, I meant it."

I nod and look away. "I know you don't really like Jazz, but I want you to know that I – that we haven't done anything. Jazz has been clean just as long as I have, and we plan on staying that way. I promise you don't have to worry about that anymore. I want you to trust me again, and I know I have to earn that, but I want you to know that I am trying."

"I can see that, and I believe you, but thank you for that reassurance."

An awkward silence falls between us, and I stare at my hands, unsure of what else to say. Carlisle reaches out and touches my shoulder, ducking his head into my line of sight. "We will be OK, Edward. Just look at us now. When was the last time we sat and talked without screaming at each other?" he asks with a laugh, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

I smirk, allowing his optimism to ease me. "Yeah, it's been awhile." We are both silent again, but this time it feels more comfortable.

Carlisle glances at his watch. "I really need to get to work," he says as he begins to stand up. He pauses and turns to look at me. "I'm sorry for waking you up so early on a Saturday, but I am glad I did."

"Yeah," I say with a sarcastic sigh, "just don't make a habit of it."

Carlisle laughs and I give him a genuine smile in return.

"I know you're worried about Bella, and if you'd like to talk about it more, I will be home early tonight. I would prefer if we didn't discuss this in front of your brother, but if you'd like to continue this conversation after dinner, I'm all yours."

"Thanks."

He straightens his tie and checks his watch again. "I think I will check on Bella before I go," he says to himself as he stands up and beings to move toward the stairs.

"Wait. What time is it?" I call after him.

"A little after six-thirty. I know it's early, but I -"

I shake my head. "She won't be awake yet. I gave her a sleeping pill. Those things take at least seven hours to wear off. At least, when I took them they did."

Carlisle stops abruptly, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. "What exactly did you give her?"

The look on his face makes me uneasy. "She told me you gave her a prescription for Remeron," I defend, alarm creeping into my voice. "I had some left over from when I took it. I only gave her half a tablet since she's smaller than me."

"And you saw her take it?"

"Yeah, she took it." I start to push myself off the couch, ready to race upstairs and shake her from the drug induced coma I'm picturing in my mind, when Carlisle holds up his hands to stop me from getting up. A satisfied smile creeps across his lips.

"No, no. It's fine. That's great news actually," he says.

I laugh, humorlessly, trying to slow my racing heart. "It's great news that I shared my prescription medication?" I ask sarcastically. "I don't think the FDA would agree."

"Yes. I mean, no, you shouldn't do that." He points a finger at me, trying to manage a stern expression, but clearly his mind is somewhere else. "You were smart to only give her half, but the full dosage would have been OK too."

"Well, I didn't want to knock her out for the entire weekend."

Carlisle shakes his head. "No, Edward, Remeron isn't a sleeping pill."

"It's not?"

"No. Drowsiness is simply a side effect. Remeron is an anti-depressant."

I stare at him, completely dazed for a moment. "Then why do I have a prescription for it?" I ask defensively.

"It's common to prescribe anti-depressants for patients recovering from traumatic injuries. I prescribed it for you after your car accident. I prefer to use Remeron because it's mild and most patients tolerate it better than some of the more popular brands on the market."

"So you gave it to Bella to treat her depression, not to help her sleep," I clarify.

"Yes, and she knows that, but I also prescribed it because the other side effects would be beneficial for her. Remeron is commonly given to patients with eating disorders because it can cause an increase in appetite and subsequent weight gain. I prescribed it to her several weeks ago but, to my knowledge, she has refused to take it."

"Yeah, she told me that she hasn't."

"So, how did you get her to take it?"

I shrug. "I don't know. We were talking, and I just handed it to her told her to take it."

"Huh." Carlisle looks away, obviously thinking very hard about something. I wait patiently, watching his eyes shift from side to side as he deliberates. He glances at me quickly then pulls his notebook from his jacket pocket and flips through the pages quickly, pausing to review a few annotations. As he reads, he walks slowly back to the couch and sits down again. After a moment, he closes the notebook and returns it to his pocket, staring straight ahead. Just when the silence is about to drive me insane, he turns to look at me. No doubt my curiosity is clearly evident on my face.

"Edward, I'd like to try something. It's a little unorthodox, and I will require your help."

"OK," I reply skeptically.

Carlisle twists in his seat to face me, and the glimmer of hope in his eyes is hard to miss. "There are two other medications I've been trying to get her to take. One helps reestablish and increase the sensation of hunger; the other will help her keep down anything she does consume."

"One makes her hungry; the other keeps her from throwing up," I repeat in plain English.

"Right. I've encouraged her to take them on numerous occasions without success. I'd like to see if she will take them if - if you ask her."

My eyes grow wide as I stare at him.

"Edward, I think your brother's suggestion to involve you may be the right idea. Remember what I said about establishing a level of trust between a doctor and a patient in these situations? You already have that with Bella. She obviously trusts you, as she's confided in you and no one else."

I'm shaking my head before he can even finish his statement. "No, she doesn't trust me. She only confided in me because I practically bullied her into telling me. Then she begged me to leave her alone before she cried herself to sleep." Carlisle gives me a quizzical look.

"I sat outside the door most of the night," I confess.

"Ah," he responds, considering my argument for a moment. "Regardless, she entrusted you with more information in those few hours than anyone else. I think it's worth a shot. It won't be an easy conversation, I'm sure. She will likely resist taking the medication, but as you know, we are running out of time. Given the fact that she took the medicine from you last night, there is a real possibility you could be successful again."

When I let out a defeated breath, Carlisle jumps at the possibility of winning me over. His pleas are unnecessary. I'd do anything – give anything – to help her.

"I'm just asking that you talk to her again," he continues. "I don't know what you said to her, but evidently something you did made an impact and maybe -"

I hold my hands up to stop his appeals. "You don't have to convince me. I think I've already proven I'd do anything for her."

Carlisle's eagerness diminishes and, for a brief second, a look of shame masks his features. "Yes. Yes you have," he acknowledges solemnly. I brush it off, feeling awkward from the way he's looking at me.

"Do you have the prescriptions here?"

Carlisle nods toward the hallway. "They're in my office, on my desk, but I'm not suggesting you administer the medication."

"She's just gotta swallow a couple of pills, right?"

"Yes, but I will need to be present when she starts this process."

"Why?"

"When she takes them, I want her to try to eat something shortly thereafter. Until this medication has a chance to build up in her system, her ability to consume anything is likely beyond her control, but I still want her to try. Like I said, we're running out of time."

"So you want her to eat even though it's probably going to make her sick?"

"That's correct."

I shrug. "I can handle that." Honestly, that part sounds easier than the conversation I'm imagining in my head.

"Yes, but this will be an ongoing process. I will continue to push her to eat at regular intervals throughout the day, regardless if she's been able to retain her previous meal or not. As you can imagine, the progression will be quite trying for her."

"No offense, but it doesn't sound like you've had much luck pushing her to do anything. If you think I can get her to take the medication, then don't you think I could get her to eat too?"

Carlisle considers that for a minute. "That's a valid point."

"So let me try. Just tell me what to do. If she won't do it for me then you can take over tomorrow, just let me try."

Carlisle studies my face, considering my argument for a moment before he reaches into his lab coat to retrieve his notebook again. Turning to a clean sheet he says, "All right. Here's our plan."

~o0o~

It's well after nine when I return to the house with the largest Hulk Berry Blast that Emerald City Smoothie makes. Per Carlisle's instructions, I asked for the highest calorie meal replacement drink on the menu, adding in all the protein supplements and vitamin enhancers he suggested. I write Bella's name in bold, black letters across the lid before placing the Styrofoam cup in the freezer.

I'll kick Emmett's ass if he touches her meal.

Before leaving for the hospital, Carlisle retrieved Bella's prescriptions from his office and gave them to me. As I climb the stairs to my room, I shove the bottles into the front pocket of my jeans. I pause when I reach my door, but instead of pushing my way inside like I normally would, I take a deep breath, raise my hand, and knock gently.

No answer.

I try again, only to be greeted with silence on the other side. Cautiously, I open the door and peek in. I'm not really surprised to find the bed neatly made and the room empty. With a sigh, I close my door and walk down the hall to her room.

"Come in," she calls out after I tap lightly on the door.

With another deep breath, I steel myself before slowly pushing the door open.

Bella is sitting on her bed, propped up against several pillows, and a heavy blanket thrown over her legs. She doesn't look up as I enter. She watches her hands as she secures an elastic band around the loose braid cascading over her shoulder. I close the door behind me and lean against it.

"You forget we don't have school today, Jake?" Her voice is light and teasing, and the sound makes me long for all those playful times when we would taunt each other.

When I don't respond, she turns her head to glance in my direction, unable to hide the look of alarm when she realizes it's not Jacob standing in her bedroom. She finishes tying off her hair and forcefully tosses the braid over her shoulder.

"I thought you went back to Jasper's," she says coldly.

I shake my head. "I slept on the couch."

She huffs and folds her arms across her chest. "Did you want something, Edward?"

I nervously blurt out the first thing to pops in my head. "Did you sleep OK?"

"What?" Bella stares at me, still annoyed by my intrusion.

"Um, the pill I gave you last night. I was wondering if it worked." I'm stalling, and I know it. Mentally, I kick myself for being a chicken-shit.

"Oh, um… yeah. It did." The irritation in her expression seems to fade slightly. "Thanks. I guess," she adds.

I pull my right hand from my pocket and rub my face roughly, as if the gesture will cut through the bullshit. "You know they're not sleeping pills."

It isn't a question, but she answers anyway. "Yes," she says. She sounds ashamed by the admission. "That's just a side effect."

"So will you keep taking them?"

This time Bella doesn't answer.

Taking a cautious step towards the bed, I pull both of her new prescriptions from my pocket. I keep my eyes focused on Bella's face as she follows the movement of my hand, watching as I set the brown bottles on her nightstand. She doesn't say anything; she just continues to stare at the bottles for a moment before lifting her eyes back to mine. Slowly, I sit on the edge of the bed, and I'm thankful when she doesn't back away from me as she did the night before.

"Bella, I think you should listen to Carlisle. He's trying to help you. That medicine," I nod toward the two pill bottles, "is supposed to -"

"I know what it's for," she says in a small voice, lowering her eyes shamefully to her lap. "He's explained the treatment to me a few times."

I want to ask her why she's still being so stubborn about accepting his help but decide against it. Before I can think of what to say next, Bella looks up, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

"So, you and Carlisle talked about this." Her tone is accusing.

"He wouldn't tell me much, patient privacy and all that. Actually, I was the one that did most of the talking. I told him everything you said last night, and I'm sorry if that makes you mad. I know you probably told me those things in confidence, but I thought it was important for him to know as much as possible so he could help you."

Bella looks away, turning her face toward the window, making it impossible for me to judge just how angry she is.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "I didn't -"

"No, I get it." Her voice is cold again, and she turns to glare at me. I'm not surprised that she's upset I ratted her out to Carlisle, but her irate expression is more than I expect.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Leaning forward, I retrieve the two prescriptions from the nightstand, staring at the labels as I absentmindedly roll the bottles in my hand. "So, will you let him help you?" I ask without looking up.

Bella doesn't answer, but I can still feel her eyes on me. I brace myself for her refusal, imagining how I can counter her argument, when I realize it doesn't matter what she says – I'm not going to accept "no" as an answer. There's no reason for her to continue to reject Carlisle's help. If she does, she's just being stubborn and defiant. Well, two can play that game. Shit, I invented that game.

I open each bottle, retrieve one pill from each, and hold them out to her. "Here," I say sternly.

Bella continues to stare angrily at me, so I nudge my hand toward her again. She makes no move to accept the pills or even acknowledge my outstretched hand.

"Bella, take them. They'll make you better."

She still doesn't move.

"Bella -"

"Why are you doing this?" she asks acidly.

The sting of her angry words makes me tense, and I drop my hand onto my lap. "Because I - I care about you," I answer honestly, but the nervousness in my voice causes the words to sound insincere.

"You seriously think I'm going to fall for this again? What are you after this time, Edward? Did you change your mind? Are you still trying to win him over? You think playing the hero will sway him? Or are you worried that he'll find out about your little charade now that there's evidence left behind?"

It finally sinks in, her intense reaction to my discussing her condition with Carlisle. She thinks I'm using her. She thinks I'm trying to exploit this to my benefit. She still sees me as the malicious, merciless, callous monster; the one that broke her heart and shattered her trust all those weeks ago. The monster who tried – tried and failed, or so I thought – to convince her that the Edward she knows, the Edward sitting before her now, is only an act.

Bella folds her arms across her chest, staring at me defiantly. "What happened to being tired of pretending?"

Ashamed, I hang my head and lower my eyes to the bed. Several minutes pass as my mind replays every word I've said, every action, every gesture, but imagining how it must appear from her perspective.

I'm such an idiot. I shouldn't be here. Nothing has changed in the weeks since I left and, in the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, I've completely lost sight of that. What the hell is Carlisle thinking – allowing me to do this! She still needs to be free of me, and by being here now I'm undoing everything I accomplished that horrible night. I turn my back to her, trying to hide the defeat that is undoubtedly etched on my face.

"I – I thought you didn't believe any of that," I say softly.

Another long silence falls between us before she answers. "I don't know what to believe anymore." The confusion in her voice confirms my fears. My actions are undermining everything – everything we've suffered through the last few weeks.

A familiar panic begins to build in the pit of my stomach. I can't do this. I can't help her now, only to abandon her all over again. I can't put her through that again – I won't – I promised. I promised she could go on with her life without any interference from me. And that's exactly what I'm doing – interfering. I have to get out of here – now – before I make this worse.

An idea flashes in my head. I can just stand up and walk out, leaving her accusations unaddressed. She can think she's called me out on my little charade, proving I'm still the vile creature she envisions. Then everything will go back to how it was. How it should be. How is has to be.

I push myself up from the bed and walk to the door, struggling with each step. As I move, I fight to reclaim that hardened persona, the one that enabled me to walk away from her the last time. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to take hold of it this time. It feels like I'm grasping at water, grasping at something real, something tangible, but it slips through my fingers as I try to close my hand around it.

It wasn't this hard before. Was it? Maybe because I had time to prepare my…

The sound of movement steals my attention, and I look over my shoulder just as Bella turns away and sinks down into her bed. She rolls onto her side, away from me, and presses her face into the pillow, muffling the sound as she begins to cry. I try to steel myself again, but as I watch her frail body shudder with quiet sobs, it slips through my fingers just like before.

Before turning back toward the door, I pause and allow words to fall from my lips, from my heart, before I have time to consider the consequences.

"You can believe that, out of all the horrific things I've done in my life, I will never regret anything as much as I regret what I've done to you."

Bella doesn't respond, but I know she heard me. For a moment, I continue to watch and listen as her shoulders shake and her breathing becomes more ragged. When the sight becomes too much, I turn back to face the door. My knuckles turn white as I clutch the doorknob, but no matter how many times I tell myself to leave, I can't force myself to open the door. Because I know that if I walk out this door, if I walk out on her now, if I leave her again when she needs me the most, I would be that monster. In my mind, the vision of water slipping through my fingers, that water would turn to ice. I would turn to ice – cold, frozen, hardened. If I walk out this door now, I know without a doubt there would be no coming back from that.

A hazy memory flutters through my mind; Bella sitting with me on the stairs, her head on my shoulder, snuggling into my neck.I hold her close to me, reveling in the fact that I finally have her in my arms. I lightly comb my fingers through her hair, and Bella toys with the collar of my t-shirt.

"This is so… surreal," she says softly.

I snicker. "You're telling me. Up until thirty minutes ago, I thought you were just using me to cheat on your boyfriend. I was ready to make you choose."

Bella pulls away and sits up, looking straight into my eyes. "I choose you," she says tenderly, studying my face for a moment.

"Not that there is really a choice to be made between you and Jake, but… well, what I mean is… I know we don't know each other that well, but I… I want to."

I open my mouth to speak, but Bella keeps going.

"And I thought we were starting to. But then when you went… I don't know, is "away" the right word?"

I shrug. "It works."

"When you went away, I… I missed you. I tried to not let it bother me, but it did. I just wanted you back. Even the few times I saw you, it wasn't really you. It was like you were locked away, trapped inside yourself. Does that make sense?"

I nod.

"I'm just so glad to have you back."

I close my eyes as the memory fades away. She was right back then; she was right that awful night I broke her heart. It wasn't me that walked away from her – it was him; it had always been him. He was still a part of me - he is still a part of me. I have never completely let go of him, let go of the anger, the hate, the resentment; I've never let go of those essential elements that comprise him. Even when I thought I was done, when I was trying to be good and repent for my mistakes, when I thought I had turned my life around, he was still there. That's why it had been so easy to slip back into that temperament before. I was still allowing him to rule a part of me, to constantly overpower the person I'm supposed to be.

It's startling how clearly I can see the distinction now, like a line has been drawn straight through my body, dividing me in half. Light and dark. Yin and yang. Me and him. No, not me and him, me or him. Now that my eyes are open, now that I can see it, I can choose. It doesn't have to be this way. I can let him go. I can choose to never be him again.

My fingers relax their grip on the doorknob, and my hand falls back to my side. As my eyes open again, it's like a switch has been flipped – not flipped on, but off. I don't have to think about it to comprehend the change. I can't summon the monster in me anymore, I can't find him anywhere. With absolute clarity I realize that Edward is gone, dead, buried. All that is left is the person I'm supposed to be, the Edward that Bella knows, the one she helped me become, the Edward who loves her more than anything in this world – more than his own life.

I turn around and walk back to her bed. I slowly crawling across the mattress to lie down beside her. Cautiously, I slide my arm around her waist, and when she doesn't push my hand away, I gently roll her over. As soon as she's facing me, Bella buries her face against my chest as she sobs, her fists gripping my shirt tightly. Her body feels so frail against mine, and I have to fight back my own tears as she falls apart in my arms.

"Shh, I'm here," I whisper, stroking her hair with one hand.

We stay curled around each other for a long time. Even as Bella's tears continue to fall, some sick, twisted part of my brain is overjoyed just to hold her again. Too soon, Bella regains some of her composure, and with it comes an awareness of her position. She releases her grip on my shirt, only to place her hands flat against my chest and push me away. I don't try to resist, and I open my arm as she disentangles herself from my grasp.

Bella rolls to her back and sits up, pulling her knees into her chest and staring down into her lap. Slowly, I push myself up as well, twisting my body around to face her. I watch her desolate expression for a moment, waiting for her to say something, to react in some way, but she doesn't move an inch. She almost looks catatonic.

I continue to wait, trying to gauge her feelings from the empty look in her eyes. I have no idea what to do or what to say. Where do I begin? How do I start to explain the truth? How do I tell her that it was all a lie? How do I explain why I did what I did? How can I make her believe me? Make her trust me again?

The answers to all my questions are staring me in the face - her face. I can't. I can't tell her. Not right now. She isn't in the right frame of mind to hear it. She is broken, defenseless, vulnerable, and I can't take advantage of that. Not if I truly want to regain her trust. Sure she might believe me now, she might even forgive me if I explain it right, but what about later? Would she accuse me of preying on her at her weakest moment? No, I can't tell her now. I never want to give her reason to doubt me again.

And what if the truth just hurts her more? What if it sets her back even further? That's a risk I can't afford to take, not when she's already so defeated, not when she's already facing an uphill battle. But what will happen when I do tell her the truth? Will we go through all this just to be torn apart again? Will we end up right back where we started? Right here?

I shake my head to clear thoughts. I can't think about that now. I need to focus on the next forty-eight hours, on the plan that Carlisle and I agreed upon. I'm running out of time - Bella is running out of time. I'll have to deal with all that crap later. No, we – we will figure it out later, together. My priority right now has to be taking care of Bella.

"Please leave," she whispers, interrupting my thoughts. The blank expression on her face frightens me. There's no way I can leave her. Not like this. Not ever.

"I can't," I say softly.

Bella closes her eyes, forcing more tears to roll down her cheeks. "Leave," she says more firmly.

I don't move.

"Leave! Get out!" she chokes. "Get out of my life!"

"No, I won't," I say softly.

"Damn it!" she yells through her tears. She climbs off the bed, jumping to her feet in one fluid movement. Startled, I stand and race around the other side to block her path. I grab her shoulders, holding her firmly in place to stop her from running from me.

"Let go of me!" she screams, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggles against my grasp.

I take a small step toward her, subtlety pulling her closer to me at the same time. Bella's thrashing lessens as her tears increase.

"Don't – don't touch me!" she yells, but her voice doesn't carry the same frenzy as before. She lifts her arms, striking my chest with the sides of her fists. There's no force behind the blows, but Bella continues to beat against my chest, each punch weaker than the last. My hands are still gripping her shoulders, gently, and I pull her minutely closer.

"I – I hate you!" she wails. I close my eyes as her words stab me.

"I hate you," she says again, but the words sound less earnest.

"I – I… "

Bella crumples forward, and I throw my arms around her in the same instant, pulling her to me. She presses her cheek against my chest as her arms encircle my waist. This time, I can't hold back my own tears as she sobs in my arms, unleashing all the pain, all the agony, all the desolation I've left in my wake.

"What's – what's wrong with me?" she mumbles, her words almost incoherent. "What's happening to me?"

"Shh, love, it will be OK," I murmur, my voice strangled by the tightness in my throat. "We'll get through this. It will be OK."

Bella lifts her head from my chest, looking up and studying my face with her red eyes. My own blurred vision makes it difficult to read her expression.

Instinctively, I raise my hands to cradle her face, futility brushing away the tears that continue to fall. Bella doesn't flinch away from my touch or pull back from our embrace, and before I realize what I'm doing, I lean down and press my lips to hers.

I kiss her gently, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. Bella arms wrap tighter around my waist, pulling me closer as she kisses me back. As our mouths move together a second time, I feel her body shudder with a ragged sob.

Suddenly, she pulls back, breaking the kiss abruptly as she turns around and steps away. She stands with her back to me, shutting me out completely. I start to panic, fearing my actions just now have crossed a line that we may never come back from. What the hell was I thinking!

"I'm sorry," I say reflexively.

She doesn't respond, wrapping her arms around her body as she hangs her head.

"Please say something," I beg.

The silence drags on, amplifying the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

"I can't do this," she whispers. "Just forget it, Edward. This isn't your problem. Let it go."

"I can't let this go. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Bella takes a few steps forward and sits down on the edge of her bed. I notice her tears have stopped, only to be replaced with an ominously resigned expression that, quite frankly, is scaring the crap out of me.

"What is it you want, Edward? I'm not going to tell Carlisle anything about us if that's what you're worried about."

"Jesus! This has nothing to do with Carlisle!" I yell, my anxiety making me irrational. Bella cringes at my outburst, squeezing her eyes shut. I shift in place, rubbing the back of my neck roughly with my hand as I try to reign in my nervous tension.

"I told Carlisle everything," I confess. "He saw us together the day you left for Florida. He knows that I ended it a week later, and that's when… things got worse for you."

As I admit this small portion of the truth, I study Bella's expression, watching for some reaction. I expect shock, surprise, maybe even relief, but she doesn't even blink. She seems to have given up, resigned to let this despair swallow her whole.

My shoulders slump as I take a cautious step to the bed, sitting down at the opposite end. Maybe it's time to admit defeat myself. Nothing I've said or done so far has made any impact. If anything, I'm only making it worse.

"Bella," I say gently. "There's a hospital in Phoenix. Carlisle says it's one of the best in the country. You'll be close to your dad, and you can get away from here, away from…," I swallow thickly, "all this."

She turns her head to face me, finally reacting to my words. "You – you want me to leave?"

I sigh. "I think you should go back to Phoenix… so I can't hurt you anymore."

Bella doesn't respond as she turns her face away and stares down at the floor.

"You're killing yourself," I say softly. "Don't you see that?"

Once again, she doesn't answer. It's like she's not even listening to me anymore. Refusing to be shut out again, I kneel down on the floor in front of her, bringing my face into her line of sight.

"I don't want you to go, but if there's a chance that someone there can help you then I think you should. You can't keep doing this. It has to stop before you…" I can't make myself say the word. "Bella, I - I can't live in a world where you don't exist."

Bella squeezes her eyes shut, and I wait for the tears to start falling again, but they don't.

"I'm begging you, please don't give up. You can fight this. Let them help you." Reflexively, I reach out and take Bella's hand. I place her open palm on my chest, holding it over my heart, just as I've done a hundred times before. Bella's eyes fly open, shifting back and forth as she searches mine.

"Let me help you. Let someone, anyone, Jacob, Esme, Carlisle, fucking Emmett, I don't care! Just please…," I can feel the lump forming in my throat again as I shamelessly beg for her life, "please, just try."

Neither of us move, and Bella continues to study my face. The silence becomes deafening but I wait, hoping she'll respond until I can't stand the tension any longer. "Please, tell me what you're thinking? Tell me what you want to do, and I'll do it."

"I can't leave. I can't go to that place," she confesses after a long moment.

"I know, and you don't have to," I admit cautiously, trying not to get my hopes up. "Carlisle says you can stay here, but only if you work on getting better. He'll only wait forty-eight hours, and if he doesn't see some progress in that time, then he's going to recommend that you go."

With my free hand, I reach into my pocket and retrieve the two pills I stashed earlier. I hold them out to Bella.

"Just try," I plead again. "Show Carlisle you can fight this. Show him you want to stay so you can get your scholarship back, get your life back."

Some emotion flashes across Bella's eyes, but before I can register what it is, it disappears again. She hesitates for a second before slowly pulling her hand from my chest, holding it in front of her with her palm up. I drop the pills into her hand and retrieve the bottle of water from her nightstand. Bella rolls the tiny pills around in her palm, wavering for a moment before tossing them into her mouth. She swallows them with a long pull from the bottle and hands it back to me.

Without a word, she scoots herself back into the center of the bed, covering herself with the blanket as she lies down and rolls onto her side, facing away from me.

"You know what we have to do next?" I ask.

She nods.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes with… breakfast."

Bella doesn't acknowledge my statement, and I walk out of her room and close the door behind me.

I spend the next twenty minutes beating the shit out of the punching bag in Emmett's room.

Author's Note:

Voting is open until December 10, 2011 in the Season of Our Discontent Anonymous Angst Contest. I have a story entered but I can't tell you which one it is (hence the "anonymous") but there are some great reads over there! check it out. http:/www[dot]fanfiction[dot]net/u/3142288/Season_of_Our_Discontent

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