Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.

12 – Guilt Devastation Cowardice – 12

Awareness. It comes on slowly, and I feel well-rested enough to know that I am out of danger before I even open my eyes. My subconscious slides into consciousness and for some reason I zero in on a point of my arm. There's something prickling at me, but my eyes feel heavy to the point where it's difficult to open them. I try to lift my left arm, but that too, takes more effort than it should.

I open my mouth to take a breath, but it seems I can't open it wide enough. Or at all. Actually, I can't even feel it. It's like it used to be there, now there's just a void. I'm not sure if it's open or closed. I can feel panic begin to set in and from far off I hear a sudden accelerated beeping sound, and then movement.

"Emily?" I think someone says, but it's possible I'm imagining it. It sounds entirely too far away. "Emily?"

I struggle one more time to release some sort of sound, to tell the owner of the voice that I'm sorry, but I can't respond… I can't seem to… move… my mouth –

" – mouth shut, do you understand? Paul, do you understand?"

"Fuck off, Jared! I'm not stupid. I heard everything. I heard what he said and everything he didn't. I was there, same as you."

"Then, why - ?"

"You know. You know he would want to make sure. If he can't be here, then… you know – "

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just don't – "

"She's sleep anyway. She won't even know we were here – "

" – here, because it's the ICU. If you just let me go to the cafeteria, I bet I could find – "

"This is a hospital, Seth, not a playground. I don't want you running around here, especially late at night."

"But Mom, they don't have anything in these vending – "

He is interrupted by a faint cough, and then another.

"Emily?" I hear a hushed voice, the same from before. Aunt Sue.

The coughing continues, growing louder by the second. It takes a minute before I realize it's coming from me. My chest reacts with each involuntary breath, but I still can't seem to feel my mouth. It's a very strange sensation and it kind of alarms me, same as before.

This time, though, I fight harder to open my eyes. I can feel the darkness pushing and pulling against me, but I struggle to stay awake, willing Aunt Sue to keep calling my name. She doesn't disappoint.

It feels like an hour before I am able to open my eyes, and when I do, I immediately close them again against the brightness of the room. Fighting fiercely against the fatigue I manage to move my left arm up to shield my eyelids. My fingers brush against something gauzy and soft on the right side of my face, surprising me. Strange. I didn't realize there was anything on my face. I can't feel it.

"Emily?" Aunt Sue says again.

Slowly, my eyes search the room for her voice. My head feels entirely too heavy to lift, and then there's that weird sensation of not having a mouth. We make eye contact and her tears set off my own.

"Oh, God, you're awake," she says. Or maybe she says, "Oh, good, you're awake." Either way, the words she uses mixed with the emotion in her voice causes the alarm in me to rise significantly. As if it isn't enough that I've woken in a hospital bed. It's apparently a relief to know that I've woken up at all.

Aunt Sue, I try to say, but what comes out is barely a croak, merely a whisper. At least something comes out. It's proof that I still have a mouth, proof that I haven't lost the ability to talk. And something hurts. Not my mouth, but my throat. It's dry. I resist the sudden urge to swallow.

"Water?" I struggle to ask.

"Got it right here," Seth's voice chimes in, sounding just as happy as ever. I don't miss the obvious relief from him, either. Aunt Sue takes one of those hospital mugs from what I assume is my bedside table – I can't see that far – and holds it up to my mouth. I sip water through a straw connected to the cup and in that moment, it's the best thing I've ever tasted.

"How do you feel?" Aunt Sue asks.

"Better," I say, and I realize that my words are coming out slightly strangely. I can talk more easily than before, but for some reason, the word 'better' is difficult to pronounce.

I'm still unable to really move my head. Both she and Seth move into my line of vision.

"Do you remember what happened?" Seth asks, more eagerly than I feel like he should. Aunt Sue sends him an admonishing look, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I…" I stop talking as what happened sinks in.

Sam. Sam happened. He turned into a… wolf. He turned into a gigantic wolf and… attacked me? Is that why I'm here? Did Sam attack me?

For some reason, I immediately dismiss that. Sam would never attack me, ever, even if he does turn into a giant wolf on occasion. If he attacked me, there's no way I would still be alive, never mind be in the hospital.

So yes, I remember what happened. But somehow I doubt what really happened, and what they've been told is one and the same.

"Where's Sam?" I ask, finding it difficult once again to fully pronounce the simple words. It worries me, but more than that, the situation with Sam worries me. I need to talk to him. I need to understand what happened in detail. I need to… apologize. I wince as I remember how I hit him. God, I hit him.

I don't miss the looks Aunt Sue and Seth give each other.

"He's not doing too well," Seth starts to say. He glances at Aunt Sue, as if asking for help, or her permission to continue.

She speaks instead. "He's the one who brought you here. You were attacked by a bear, honey."

Oh. Oh.

"Is he okay?" I ask.

"The bear?" Seth stalls on purpose. Aunt Sue glares at him. "Sorry," he says, sheepishly.

Her look turns to one of concern. "He hasn't left his house since you were admitted. The nurses at the front desk said he dropped you off, absolutely stricken. He kept saying you were attacked by a bear, but he wouldn't let go of you, so you could get looked at. They tried to… to calm him down because he was shaking as if he was undergoing a seizure."

"They thought he was going to drop you. One doctor wanted to give him a shot, but he kept backing away from him. He wouldn't let that doctor near you for some reason. Another doctor came in and he finally let you go. Then, he ran," Seth says, picking up where Aunt Sue leaves off.

I stare at them with wide eyes, sure that my mouth must be hanging open as well.

"Has anyone - ?" I start to ask if anyone's checked on him, but Aunt Sue interrupts me.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. We're much more concerned about you," she says, hurriedly. "You've been in here for two days now, drifting in and out the doctor says. You're very lucky that Sam showed up, Emily. Your face is… well, you have damage… done. The doctor says you'll very likely be… paralyzed on the right side of it."

I gasp, the noise shocking me as much as the news.

"Your mom and dad wanted to come back, but Mom told them not to," Seth says. "Do… do you want them to? They said if you woke up before tomorrow, they'd talk to you about it. But if not, they'll just fly back on Thursday."

"No, they don't… they don't have to come," I say, shock causing my voice to sound faint.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Emily," Aunt Sue says, her voice choked up with tears now. "I know I've been treating you terribly. It's such a cliché thing to say, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

I can't bring myself to find my voice. My face… paralyzed? Aunt Sue's heartfelt apology doesn't really register. I just nod.

"Mom, we… we have to go. Dad's been waiting," Seth says uncomfortably.

Aunt Sue nods. "Leah's staying with you," she says. "So if you need anything…"

"Leah's here?" I ask, surprised. I try again to lift my head, but to no avail. I could if I put effort into it, but I'm tired, and it's heavy, and all I really want to do right now is cry. And see Sam.

Why hasn't Sam been here?

"Leah's asleep," Seth says. "She's right there on the cot." Out of my line of vision.

"She's been here every night," Aunt Sue adds. "She only left once and that was to – " She stops talking, and she and Seth exchange looks again.

"Was to what?" I ask, curiously.

"She… went to talk to Sam," Seth says. "But we really have to go now."

"We'll be back tomorrow," Aunt Sue says, rising. She swoops down, gives me a hug, kisses me on the right side of my face – I barely feel it, but I do – and then she practically drags Seth out of the door, tapping Leah on the way to wake her up.

And then, they're gone.

I hear movement from where Leah supposedly is, and then she's sitting in the chair Aunt Sue vacated.

"You're awake," she says. It's not a question, but a statement.

I try to nod, but abandon it quickly. "Apparently, I was awake before, just not coherent?" I try to joke, but neither one of us is smiling. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again and I try desperately to blink them back.

"Yeah," Leah says. The silence that follows is incredibly awkward.

I want to ask where Sam is, but I don't want to bring him up. I want to know why she went to see him and what happened. I'm nervous, but I know the conversation needs to happen. I open my mouth to get it started, but she starts speaking first.

"I meant it when I said what I said," she says. I wonder if she finds it difficult to maintain eye-contact. I don't.

"About karma," she continues. "It would be a lie to say I didn't mean any of it before. I wanted you to get hurt the same way you and… that bastard hurt me. But I didn't want you to get hurt like this." Her eyes well up with tears as something seems to break free inside of her.

"I didn't want anything really bad to happen to you. You're still my cousin, Emily. I really love you. Even when I hate you, I love you," she continues, her voice now clogged with emotion.

The tears in my own eyes spill over. I love you, I want to say, but it doesn't come out.

She doesn't seem to need to hear it back.

"I thought you might not wake up. It's so stupid. You could have died and we were fighting over a boy. When I thought about that, I thought… even if… even if you love him more than you love me, I still love you more than anyone. You've always been my best friend, Emily. You understand me."

"You're my best friend, too," I manage to say.

Leah shakes her head. "No, I'm not. You don't have to lie. And for the record, I don't think I'll ever forgive you for dating him. I'll never understand how you could do that, but… I don't know. Just don't expect me to be your maid of honor. That's twisting the knife." She laughs a little, but she's serious.

I don't know whether to laugh with her. There's something I need to know, but I don't know how to ask in a delicate way. So I just say it.

"Do you still… are you still in love with him?"

Leah looks away and for a moment, she doesn't answer.

"Yeah," she says, softly. "I went to see him. I was angry at him for putting you in danger by taking you into the woods so deep. I was angry at him anyway, but it was a good excuse. When I got there, he looked terrible. It was clear that he hadn't gotten any sleep or anything. He was weak, and I was angry and confused. I was mad at him for not being at the hospital and I was mad at myself for wanting him to be there for you. So I thought, maybe if he couldn't be there for you, he could be there for me. And then I… took advantage of him."

I stare at her.

"I kissed him. One time."

Those words are more of a slap than the real one she gave me. I close my eyes, trying so hard not to imagine the scenario, but of course my imagination takes control. Did he kiss her back? I don't want to know.

I want to know.

I open my eyes.

Leah continues. She's unable to make eye-contact with me now.

"He kissed me back," she says. Another emotional slap. "But there was nothing there, in that kiss. There was nothing. No emotion, no response. It was like… he was letting me have it as an apology for breaking my heart. And for literally breaking you."

I shake my head. "H-He didn't… I'm not – "

Leah interrupts. "I stopped it. He… he started crying. And I yelled at him. Then I left."

"Leah," I say, shocked at her sheer audacity. And suddenly furious.

"I guess that was a bitchy move on my part, but I wanted to see if there was anything left… if there was another reason besides his guilt and devastation why he wouldn't come here to see you. But that's all there is, it seems: guilt, devastation… cowardice."

My face feels hot. I'm beyond angry now. I cannot even fathom…

"Shut up," I say, the words lashing out at her like a whip. "You don't know. You just don't know – "

"Oh, but I do," she says, her eyes flashing as a reaction to my words. "I know him very well. I'm not heartless, Emily. I spent years learning Sam. Maybe I don't know this new Sam as well as you apparently do, but I still know him."

"No, you don't. Knowing what his preferences are and what his habits are means just that. You know all the surface things there are to know about him."

She crosses her arms. "All those habits are what make a person."

I glare at her. "All those habits are just details. If you really knew him, then you never would have done what you did. I know you're not heartless, but to kick him, when he's at his lowest? How could you?" I demand.

Her face turns from anger to confusion. "I didn't – "

My hands are shaking now. "You kissed him. He cried. You yelled at him. Then, you left him? What is wrong with you?"

She stares at me. "Seriously? You would rather I'd have stayed to comfort him, or something? That's kinda counteractive to your plan, isn't it?"

"The difference between your relationship with Sam and my relationship with Sam is that in my relationship with him, we take care of each other," I say in a low, angry voice. "You say you went to see him because you were angry over me? But when you got there, you were looking for someone to 'be there for you.' God, Leah, if you knew him at all, you'd know that what Sam needs and wants most in the world is for someone to take care of him, but you did exactly the opposite.

"You're always looking for people to be there for you, but you're never there for anyone else. You know why I'm your best friend? Because I'm just like him. I'm self-sufficient. Sure, we're cousins, but you chose me because you knew I could take care of myself. You knew that you could come to me with all of your problems, but you'd never have to listen to mine.

"I love you. And I'm sure he loves you, too, but you've always been like that. You always choose yourself over anyone else. That's why we chose each other over you. That's why your relationship wouldn't have lasted. That's why he's my best friend instead of you."

Leah stares at me, open-mouthed. Then, wordlessly, without a warning, she stands up. She balls up her fists, throws me a wounded look laced with anger, spins around and leaves out of the door.

She doesn't come back.

But I don't regret what I've said. Every word was true. I know that with a certainty.

Full of adrenaline, suddenly, I struggle to lift my head up. It's heavy, still, but not painful, other than the stiffness from being in the same position for so long.

I locate the phone. With some difficulty, I manage to snag the phone cord to pull the phone over to me. I dial Sam's and my house number, but the phone rings and rings.

Again, I honestly don't regret what I said to Leah… but now I feel really alone –

- alone and it bothers me. I hate the thought of him sitting in that house blaming himself for everything, and it hurts that I can't get up out of this bed right now and go to him. According to the doctors, my injuries are too severe. I can't leave until Friday and it's only Thursday, though since I've woken up I've been moved out of intensive care.

That news alone reassured my parents that they don't have to come back here, thankfully. Aunt Sue is more than enough of a hoverer, though I know she means well. She's also suffering somewhat for her guilt at how she was treating me, though I've told her more than once that I understand and I forgive her.

Leah hasn't been back, but I don't expect her to. I doubt she'll talk to me anytime soon. I don't want to see her. Every time I think about how she treated Sam, my stomach feels sick.

Seth stops by, but the room clearly makes him restless, so I make it easy on him by telling him after about half an hour that he doesn't have to stay. His answering smile makes me feel a little less lonely.

I want to see Uncle Harry, but he's been proving impossible to get in touch with. Aunt Sue says he was here on the first day, but he really can't afford to stay away from the store since it's only him and Jared working. Once in a while Seth and Aunt Sue herself will pitch in to help when Harry and Jared need sleep, but other than that, it's pretty much those two alone.

Something about that strikes me as off, however, considering when I first showed up that Uncle Harry and Sam were the only two employees and they seemed to be doing just fine. But I don't say anything about it. I don't want to push the issue and have Aunt Sue confirm what I already assume is true.

Uncle Harry doesn't want to see me. She might not know why, but I do. Between the bandages on my face and the questions he'll know I want answered, I can only imagine how nervous he must be feeling. Probably guilty as well, since he's the one who pushed Sam and me together.

I'm interrupted from my musings by a light knock on the door.

"Miss Young?" One of the male nurses enter the room after I verbally acknowledge him.

"Hey there, how are you feeling?" he asks, a happy smile on his face.

"Anxious," I blurt out before I can stop it.

He laughs. "Ready to go home, huh?"

"You have no idea," I say, sheepishly, but truthfully.

"Well, there's just one more thing we have to do before we can release you tomorrow. And that's to take off those bandages. Are you ready?"

My stomach clenches up. "You… you want to do it now?" I say, nervously. I'm not ready to see the damage done to my face. I don't want to see Sam's mark there. I don't want anyone else to see it either, regardless of what they think did it.

"We need to let those stitches breathe," he says, gently. "And teach you how to manage everything on your own."

"Okay," I say, quietly, after a heartbeat.

I try to calm down by reassuring myself that there are no mirrors in the room. I won't actually see my face until I get up and use the bathroom next time.

The nurse makes quick work of removing the bandages, surprisingly. Unable to help myself, I watch his face for a reaction to my injuries. He must have been trained well because he keeps a serene smile on his face the entire time as he chatters away about my release from the hospital and how he won't be here because his shift is over at midnight.

"There," he says when he's done administering some cream. "Be careful not to touch the actual scars with anything but Q-tips and the cream we'll give you. Remember, we don't want it to get infected, especially not while the stitches are in there. You'll have to come back in a bit to get those removed, of course. Wouldn't want them to heal into your face."

I don't ask him how it looks. I don't say anything. I don't trust my voice. I can't stop inwardly panicking about how I didn't feel him touching my face with the Q-tip. At all.

Paralyzed…

"Alrighty! Well, everything looks to be good so far," he says, keeping up his cheery demeanor. "Hopefully, you'll still be good in the morning, so you can get out of here." He grins, gathers up everything on his cart, waves and disappears out of the door.

The second he leaves, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed, stagger for a moment from the sudden light-headedness, and rush into the bathroom. I close my eyes as I step inside and feel for the light switch.

Then, I take a deep breath and open.

Completely ignoring his warnings, I reach my hand up to touch my face. It's the strangest sensation in the world. I know I'm touching my face. I can see myself touching my face. I can feel my face under my hand. But I can't feel my hand on my face.

There are three monstrously hideous scars running down the side of my face, one cutting through my lip and just barely missing my eye. Violently red, blue and purple bruises wind through them. A shocked sob that I hadn't realized I was holding in, escapes from me without warning.

The left side of my lip is turned down, so that I will be permanently frowning on that side for the rest of my life. I venture a timid smile. Only the right side of my mouth and my cheek moves.

I touch my nose. Thankfully, I can still feel both sides of it.

I touch my left ear. I can feel that, too.

I blink both eyes, though I already know my left one is fine. It's a relief to see for myself. Tears escape both at the same time, and I let it all go when I realize that I can only feel one descending and not the other.

I was never a vain person, though I wasn't invisible to my own beauty. I knew I was pretty. 'Supermodel pretty' even, Leah liked to say. It just wasn't something I was ever interested in. She liked to use her looks to get what she wanted from who she wanted. I just counted myself lucky that I never had to wear makeup to enhance anything. I could just wash my face, throw my hair into a ponytail, and look more than halfway decent.

I touch my face again. Never again. It won't be like that. People are always going to be staring for the wrong reasons. Always looking. I choke on another sob. And I break down –

- down as I walk through the hospital. I don't want to see the people I know must be looking at me. I imagine their pointed stares and loud whispers, though I don't actually hear anything.

Aunt Sue walks me out, silent and somber. She couldn't contain her gasp when she saw my face un-bandaged for the first time. I couldn't make eye-contact with her. She struggled to apologize. I stopped her, said it was fine, and I hadn't spoken a word since.

We get into the car, and she looks at me, hesitantly. I notice that she pointedly directs her gaze on my right side. I look away and down.

"Do you… would you like me to drop you off at…?" she pauses.

"Yes," I say, softly.

"If you want to stay with us, you're welcome. You're always welcome, Emily," she says, firmly.

"Thank you, but I want to go home," I respond. She knows from the tone of my voice that I don't mean Seattle.

She hesitates again. "We… we don't know the condition… Sam was overcome with grief – "

"I need to see him, Aunt Sue. I want to go home. Please," I say, determinedly.

She sighs. "Alright."

The ride is silent, and when she drops me off, she gives me one last pleading glance. I wonder belatedly if she thinks Sam is unsafe to be around. I give her the most reassuring smile I can muster, but it fades as I realize what it must look like to her. Half a grimace.

Paralyzed.

She doesn't smile back. Instead, she grips the steering wheel tighter, and I understand that she's not going to leave until she sees me go into the house.

Clutching my bag of personal items – that mostly belong to Leah, as no one could get into the house to bring my own things – and the release papers, I walk towards the door, more nervous than I've ever been in my life. I realize that I don't have my key, as the last time I left the house, I was with Sam.

I really don't want to knock.

My prayers are answered when I try the handle half-heartedly and the door is unlocked. I push it open, turn around in the doorway and wave at Aunt Sue. She nods, and then drives off. I watch her car disappear, stalling.

I take a deep breath, then I turn around and enter the house.

It's dim, dark, and musty. The kitchen is a mess. There's food all over the counters, spoiled milk on the floor. The refrigerator door is ajar if the light shining around the door crack is anything to go by.

The living room isn't much better. The couch has been utterly destroyed, cushions ripped to shreds, and cotton everywhere. At first glance it appears that there's glass all over the floor, but upon further inspection, I realize that they are broken DVD pieces. Wordlessly, I bend down to pick one up. I recognize it from his werewolf-vampire collection. He's destroyed all of his werewolf movies.

Oh, Sam. I feel my eyes welling up with tears. I can feel his pain just from standing in this broken room. Suddenly, I don't care about how he'll react to my face anymore. At least, not from a vanity point of view.

I drop everything out of my hands, and sprint down the hall towards his room. His door is closed and locked.

"Sam," I say, finding my voice. "SAM!"

He doesn't answer. I bang my fist on the door. "Sam, please open the door!"

Nothing.

"Sam, please," I beg. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. Sam!"

Not for a second do I doubt that he's in there. The silence is screaming out at me.

"Sam," I say, in a much softer voice. "Please. Open the door. I know you're there, and I'll break it down if I have to."

I lean my head against the door and wait. It seems to take an eternity, but eventually I hear the click of the door unlocking. It doesn't open, though.

After a second, I push it open myself. The room is pitch black, the curtains drawn. The only light touching any part of the room is from the hallway. I locate him immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his head in his hands.

"Sam," I whisper and he noticeably flinches. Slowly, I make my way over to him until I'm standing in front of him. He doesn't look at me.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, fervently.

He shakes his head. I reach my hand up, hesitantly, and touch the side of his face. His reaction is instantaneous. In less than a second, he's halfway across the room. I gasp at the suddenness.

"You can't," he says, his voice low and raspy.

"I can't… touch you?" I say, unable to keep the hurt out of my tone.

"It's not safe," he responds.

"Sam, you're not going to hurt me," I say, softly. "I trust you."

From across the room he lets out a sound like a sob. "I already did," he says, the heartbreak in his voice, evident.

"It was an accident," I say, soothingly, as I move towards him slowly like I would a spooked horse.

"Emily, no – "

"It was an accident," I repeat, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

I'm standing in front of him now. He's backed against the wall with his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes zero in on my scars. I force myself to maintain my face expression, to not look away or down in shame.

His own face expression crumples, and his knees appear to give out. He sinks slowly down to the ground.

"Sam, I'm fine," I say, desperately. "I'm okay. I'm alive. It… It was my fault. I was standing too close."

I wrap my arms around him as if it can somehow protect him from his own guilt and self-loathing. If only.

"It wasn't your fault," he says, in that same guttural voice. "I did this. I did… I did that to your face… because I couldn't control it. I couldn't control myself. Emily."

I'm crying just as hard as he is, now. I register that he doesn't push me away and I know it's only because he just doesn't have the strength right now. He doesn't hold me back. He just rests between me and the wall, and lets me do what I want. I rock him back and forth.

"It's not your fault," I say over and over. I don't know if he hears me. After a while, I stop hearing myself.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles at one point, so low I almost don't hear it.

"Sam – " I start to say, but he shakes his head.

Gently, he pushes me off of his body, but he doesn't make any moves to go anywhere. I feel my stomach plummet.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, only this time he makes eye-contact with me. "I… When I said what I said… to you in the woods…"

I crinkle my forehead in confusion. "Which part?" I ask.

"I…" he looks away, then looks back up at me. Like he's embarrassed, ashamed. Like he's forcing himself.

"When I said I love you," he says, so faint I almost don't hear him. I feel my face heat up, but like him, I don't look away.

"And you responded how you did… I was angry," he continues. "I tried to move, but it… when it happens, it's so fast. It's an explosion. I could feel it building, but I couldn't stop it and I couldn't move away – "

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice breaking. "I just didn't understand – "

"Shh," he says, suddenly switching roles with me. His turn to assure me everything is fine. "I couldn't stop it. And I hurt you." He winces. "It took me twenty minutes before I could phase back. Jared and Paul heard my wolf howling and they phased. They tried to get to me, tried to get to you to take you to the hospital, but when they came, I went wild. I wouldn't let them anywhere near you in their wolf forms. I fought them back, until they understood that they weren't to come near you. Then I phased back, used your car, and drove you to the hospital.

"I left you there and it hurt, but I knew they'd be able to help you. I ran after that. Like… like a coward. I knew they wouldn't know it was me who did it, but I couldn't see the looks on their faces… the horror I knew I would see. I couldn't look at them looking at you when I knew it was me who did that…" He reaches out, surprising me by touching my face. "Me who did this."

I don't feel his touch. The absence of the sensation hurts.

"It's okay," he continues, his voice dropping an octave with emotion. "If you don't feel the same way. Especially now. I… I understand if you don't want to be around me, if you want to l-leave…"

I shake my head profusely. "Don't," I say, simply.

He stares at me, a look of deep sadness settling on his face as his gaze once more traces my scars. With him looking at me like that, I can almost feel them. I don't want him to look at me like that.

On my knees already, it's simple to pitch myself forward and land on his lips. And that's exactly what I do. I can feel his shock at my actions, but it doesn't take him long to respond. The kiss is not heated. It's soft, passionate, tender… and loving.

He pulls away after a few seconds, causing the nervous butterflies in my stomach to start up a new dance, but I should have known better. He gently presses a kiss I don't feel to the left side of my mouth. My throat closes up, and I pull away.

He gives me a worried look, bordering on panic.

"P-Paralyzed," I whisper. "I can't feel it."

He looks alarmed, and then completely desolate. He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly put my hand over his lips. I can't handle him apologizing again.

"Don't," I repeat. "I don't need to hear it again and you don't need to say it anymore. I'm home, I'm alive, we're both okay. And I forgive you. So please, just don't."

He nods, but the sadness stays in his eyes.

I put my arms around his shoulders, and he pulls me into him again. He kisses the right side of my lips, softly. I sigh and close my eyes. Ever so slowly, he drags his lips across mine to the other side.

I think he kisses the left side of my lips.

But I don't feel it.

- FadingSlowly