A/N: SM owns Twilight.

Thank you to sncmom and askthemagic8ball for always stopping whatever they are doing to fix my mistakes. They have no idea how much they're appreciated. Also, thanks to yellowglue for prereading part of this chapter quite a while ago.

I don't think this chapter needs one, but as a whole, I suppose this story needs a warning regarding dark themes. This was originally stated in the one shot as it was written for the Beyond the Pale contest (it won, btw – thank you!). That said, let's just give this puppy a blanket warning for what's been written and what's to come. If you don't like angst and prefer fluff, you probably shouldn't read Red. If you have triggers regarding suicidal themes, you probably shouldn't read this either. However, if none of that bothers you then please, read on.

She lay on her side, her back toward him, skin touching warm skin. His scent had faded through the hours, but it was still there, albeit faintly. His leg over her thigh, the room dark, Bella cocooned herself under the weight of the blanket and the weight of him. Just a little while longer, she thought – responsibilities and life and who she was buried for now.

It was quiet; the time of day was unknown. It was in this hushed ambiance she felt secure, so heavy yet so light. She dared to breathe, too afraid to disrupt this moment of quintessential heaven – one in which normal lovers would relish, come alive, and would thank God they had each other.

Just for a moment she felt whole.

Edward closed his arms around her, one around her middle and the other across her shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

Don't wake, not yet, please, not yet.

Bella turned her head, hardly a movement at all as she pressed further into the pillow. She hovered between sleep and consciousness, wanting so badly to stay in this dreamlike state. The breaths between them were slow, deep… hypnotic, the sound a white noise, and she wanted to drift.

Edward released her shoulder, only for a second, to slip her hair away from the back of her neck. His lips met her tattoo, kissing her flesh from one end of the ribbon to the other. "This means forever." His voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

Bella gripped his forearm and the outside of his thigh, pressing her body back closer to his. Edward tangled his foot around her calf and nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck. He held her tightly, coveting her as if it might be the last time. He'd come close to losing her the night before, and even though neither recognized her request aloud, he denied her, feigned a certain aloofness, and each fell into their respective roles.

His weight, their warmth, the calm between them… the silence, it was still there, the heavy and the light. Bella turned her head toward him, and he lightly nipped at her jaw, kissed the lobe of her ear, and then connected his mouth with hers. Languorous movements of their tongues swirling, tasting, feeling – no thinking, her mind was at ease. Edward's erection was prominent, and she wanted him to be inside her. And she needed, more than anything else, to be wholly and absolutely enveloped by him. They broke their kiss then angled their bodies for him to enter her.

The beat of Edward's heart was steady, strong, and how he cared about Bella was so much more than he'd ever thought it would be. Yes, he wanted to possess her, and yes, he desired her in the most erotic of ways, but now, in this moment, he yearned to be all that she'd ever need. Her softness, her supple skin, her smell… it would surround him and he knew, as he slowly moved his hips, filled her with him, this moment would not last forever. Edward would become enraptured in this fleeting time, this feeling of just him and Bella being all there was. He'd lose himself completely in her, and he'd pray she'd do the same.

Bella laced her fingers with his, shifting her hips up and back, moving her cheek along the top of his forearm. Edward pressed his forehead against her temple, long and quiet huffs coming from them both. Bella guided Edward's hand over her hip and down between her legs, pressing his fingers against her, wanting him to feel every physical part of her.

She turned her head to kiss him again – heated yet loving – and then she turned her body. She lay on her back, he cradled her head, they kissed, and they rolled their hips in a forbearing rhythm. Bella felt so heavy, so desperate, her chest feeling as though it would implode, her throat tightening, her eyes burning now. Longer, please let this last longer, she silently begged.

Edward sucked in her bottom lip, his eyes clenching shut, surrounding himself by her warmth – he hadn't worn a condom, there was no barrier between them, nothing to keep them separate. I want this always, he thought, and a gravelly whimper rose from his throat. What he wouldn't give to feel her every day of his life. He kissed her again and again, gliding his nose along hers, pressing his forehead against hers, and she pulled him closer.

Bella hugged him to her then squeezed his hair between her fingers, hot tears filling her eyes as she felt the build, the rise of her orgasm. No.

With his thumbs, Edward brushed away the dampness trickling from her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes that held his heart and soul. He whispered, "Shh," and his own tear fell onto her cheek. He felt her constrict around him, her thighs tightening against his sides, her heels digging into his thighs, and her fingers gripping at his shoulder and his back. He slid his arms around her, holding her as close as he possibly could while she came, fighting off his own orgasm. Bella sobbed as her peak lessened and his rose.

As Edward stilled, unable to hold off any longer, he shifted his arms. He held her face in his hands, his forehead against hers again, his eyes closed again; he felt ecstasy and at the same time, a profound weight in the pit of his stomach.

Neither would look at the other. If they had, they'd be forced to acknowledge their quintessential heaven had ended, and the jolt of reality would be too much to bear.

Bella moved her hand, pressing her palm to Edward's chest, keeping the other around his back. Edward rested his cheek against hers and inhaled, filling his lungs and his memory with her scent. He kissed her temple, tasting the relics of her salty tears.

"Stay," he pled. "Stay with me."

She crinkled her forehead, his request so painful, so impossible, she shakily responded, "No," barely able to utter the word.

And thus the end of her dream; she'd awaken to her hell, only to immerse herself into her façade – one of impenetrable steel; one she created so long ago.

"I'll take the day off," he pressed.

"No. I have… something to do." She tugged at the hair on his chest.

The weight in Edward's stomach traveled upward, lodging itself in his throat. His lungs burned. Would he cross the line, step into her private world? He would to save her.

Hesitantly, he asked, "A client?" For the first time, Edward would fathom Bella being with another man if it meant she wouldn't harm herself. Their circumstances were so erroneous, so very fucked up.

"Yes," she lied. Neither loosened their hold of the other, and she tilted her head, touching her cheek to his shoulder and her nose to his neck. She could go home, drink her wine – a bottle, maybe two – and swallow a few pills. Her death would be a quiet one, no fanfare, no extraordinary measures; it would go unnoticed, except by Edward. But he had his daughter and a wife, and Bella could never be normal for him. She could never fulfill his life because she was broken beyond repair.

Today would not be that day, however. No, Bella would suit up in her armor and mechanically follow her routine. She would go to the gym, confirm her schedule for the remainder of the week and meet her appointment to have her hair trimmed and lo-lighted. And at the end of the evening, Bella would go to sleep with the aid of only one pill and a glass filled just half-way with wine – a chardonnay or perhaps a pinot. Assuredly, Bella would sleep soundly and dreamlessly tonight. Tomorrow was always easier if she'd put herself in the right frame of mind.

Edward lifted his head and looked into her eyes for truth. They locked their gaze onto each others' for several moments.

"I'd die without you," he admitted quietly. He wasn't above using guilt; he loved her. Oh Christ, how he loved her; a piece of Edward would literally die if he lost her.

Yet he couldn't force her into his world – his world where he dedicated himself to the success of his corporation and every other waking hour to the happiness of his daughter. The exception, of course, was the time he spent with Bella on Monday evenings.

Bella forced a small smile – reassurance for his sake. She shook her head, tracing one finger down and around his nipple.

There was no fairy tale ending, and Edward was not a knight who would ride in on a white horse. For Bella, this didn't exist. She tortured herself week after week by allowing him to touch her, by giving in to her irrepressible desire and need to feel the tiniest semblance of love. Still, Bella had tried to permit herself to accept that she might be deserving of something more than the life she led, but she failed - every time. The incessant voice inside her head and heart had told her she'd never be like other women; this voice became so much louder after she'd met Edward. It wasn't so much that she felt Edward was better than her. That wasn't it at all – Bella simply wanted to be whole, for Bella. She admitted this much to her therapist, and after years of meeting once per month with the good doctor, no matter how long the session or which approach was used, Bella's acceptance of her fate was just that – acceptance. It changed nothing.

Bella took Edward's words to heart. She wouldn't leave him… for now.

"I'll see you next week," she promised.

,,,,,,

The redundancy of the days passed with and without regret, and soon, October had turned into November. Bella and Edward kept their weekly engagement, and the rules stayed the same; she wore red, and he brought her to the height of the type of euphoric pleasure that only he could. But the more they were together, the love they felt for one another had grown, thus the ache increasing when they had to say goodbye.

Consuming thoughts of Bella had spilled over into Edward's every day life. He'd always thought about her, but now he so badly wanted to be able to replace the ridiculously obligatory picture of his wife that sat on his desk with one of Bella. Edward was not deluded to think he and Bella would ever be together in a socially acceptable way, however, he wanted more. Edward had hired a private investigator to watch over Bella, terrified she might not keep her promise to see him again. For a moment, he questioned his own sanity and his compulsion toward her. He'd considered persuading her to seek help - he wanted her to be better, to be safe. Yet, would it have seemed condescending of him if he'd done so? And, selfishly, if she were to get better, would she leave him?

Decidedly, Edward would take care of her. He'd give her what she needed; he'd give her as much of himself as possible because he could not be without her.

The dull ache in Bella's chest and stomach was ever present; the added clientele hadn't diminished the pain. She'd fill her week with men, blindly screwing them, robotically satisfying their requests. She'd return home to take scalding showers. No matter how much the water stung, Bella would stand under the scorching pressure as the rivulets hit her like a thousand needles, willing the ache to disappear. She'd often wish as she stepped out of her bathroom that Edward would be sitting on the edge of her bed to surprise her. But then what? After the excitement of his surprise was over, he'd need to leave anyway.

She knew Edward was having her followed; the ill-fitting man hadn't been very good at hiding himself as he seemed to pop up in the most arbitrary places, but then again, Bella had always been acutely aware her surroundings. Bella wondered if Edward intended for her to know, still, neither mentioned anything. As time went by, Edward texted and left messages for Bella more often; most she ignored, but to some she replied. His subtleties were endearing. She hated it. It ruined their relationship. Ruined because she loved him, and she wanted him, but in her mind he now regarded her as weak, and she loathed the combative push and pull within her heart and head.

It became too much.

Bella didn't look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Instead, staring down into the prescription bottle, she gave it a little shake, ensuring there were enough pills. There would be no letter, no explanations. A few nights prior, when she and Edward were together, she hadn't said goodbye to him either, nor had she made any promises. It wasn't something she needed to plan according to her calendar; she didn't know when the moment would come as to when she couldn't take it any more.

Bella poured a glass of wine then got into bed. By the third glass, she was sobbing uncontrollably, sharp, wretched pains stabbing at her stomach and chest. She hated her memory; the flashes of the past sneaking up on her in the few moments she felt strong, human, and reminding her of who she was: nothing of importance, someone's secret.

That's all she'd ever be.

Her heart slowed as did her breathing. The last thing she felt was the nausea in her stomach and the dizzying weight of falling.

,,,,,,

"You can't be here, sir!"

"Don't you fucking tell me where I can or cannot be," he growled. "Get the fuck out of my way… now."

"Sir! I'll have to call security if you don't leave." She steeled herself in front of Edward. It didn't matter that Edward towered over her; she was not intimidated by him. "Only family members are permitted."

Edward stepped back, one hand forcibly raking through his hair, the other on his hip. His eyes were swollen, bloodshot, and his face was stained with tears. "I am her family!" he screamed desperately, earning wide-eyed looks from other staff members. The nurse shook her head at another who silently offered to call security. But Edward hadn't noticed the exchange – all he could see through the tempered glass window was Bella lying lifelessly in the hospital bed. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "I'm all she has."

Quick footsteps preceded a deep, husky male voice. "Edward?" asked the man, both shocked and confused to see Edward in this part of the hospital in this abnormally feeble condition, let alone seeing him at all. The man grabbed Edward's elbow and led him away from the nurses' station, away from his view of Bella. "What are you doing here? What's going on?" His Spanish accent was heavy, and he cast a look of deep concern upon Edward.

"Gabriel," Edward started, disregarding the fact the two men hadn't seen each other in years. The last time Edward and Dr. Gabriel Reyes had spoken was during one of Edward's father's Christmas parties. Gabriel and Edward's father, Carlisle, were close friends and colleagues. Gabriel was also Edward's godfather. Edward gave a quick nod toward Bella's room, "Bella Swan, is she your patient?"

Gabriel, just as tall as Edward, yet broader and more muscular, looked into Edward's eyes. He studied his godson curiously, silently taking in the dark circles under his eyes, his red blotchy face, and his unkempt clothing. Gabriel retreated back to the nurses' station and spoke a few quiet words to the redhead sitting behind the counter, her eyes flickered toward Edward cautiously, and then she handed Bella's chart to Dr. Reyes. Gabriel tucked it under his arm and motioned for Edward to walk with him down the sterile hallway. It was particularly early in the morning, and the halls were nearly abandoned save a custodian and a nurse or two going about their routine. "How's Gwen?" Gabriel asked of Edward's wife as the two strode down the hall.

Gabriel's words were intrusive and shockingly bold. Now was not the time. Clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring, Edward stared straight ahead at the white double doors, a lighted red 'Exit' sign above them; he refused to answer.

"Alright, then." Gabriel halted, clutching Bella's chart in both hands in front of his stomach. Edward stopped walking and turned to face Gabriel. "Yes, I will be in charge of Miss Swan's care… Edward, I can't share-"

"Is she going to be okay?" Edward interrupted, sweeping his shaking hand over his face; he rubbed the heel of his hand against his brow.

Gabriel nodded. "Physically, yes." Edward inhaled sharply; Gabriel pursed his lips. "I gather the two of you are… close?"

Through the silent minutes that passed, Edward deliberated how little he would need to admit in order to gain as much information from Gabriel as possible. He'd also need to convince Gabriel to allow him visitation as Gabriel, from what he remembered, had always been a stickler for rules.

Finally, Edward, with trepidation, answered as he rubbed the back of his neck. "She's special to me… Bella is a, um," he swallowed nervously, "she's an important part of my life."

The wrinkles in the corners of Gabriel's dark brown eyes deepened as he squinted, staring at Edward while he took a moment to surmise the dilemma he now faced. For Edward was his godson and as far as Gabriel was concerned, Edward was blood; family would always prevail over the Hippocratic Oath. However, would it be wise to encourage Edward's extracurricular activities? Gabriel never thought Edward was happily married, nor had he cared much for Gwen and the stiff way she carried herself or mothered Edward's daughter, but he'd never condone infidelity.

Regardless of Gabriel's personal feelings, his first priority was to his new patient, Isabella Swan. Questions circled his mind about her, the standard ones that is, yet no matter how many attempted suicide cases he'd been presented with Gabriel's stomach churned. He wondered just how big of a role Edward had played in her decision. He placed no blame on Edward, though; he was sympathetic. It could have nothing to do with him, he hoped, prayed, but Gabriel had been a psychiatrist for well over twenty years. Who am I kidding? In this moment, he wished he had chosen a different specialty.

Gabriel extracted his reading glasses from the breast pocket of his white coat. After sliding them over the bridge of his nose, he flipped open Bella's chart. He read the results of her lab work once more, this time more carefully. He read the notes written by Maggie, the redheaded nurse, which essentially stated the staff had been unsuccessful in their attempt to contact a family member or otherwise – there were no telephone numbers in which to reach anyone; Bella did not have a record on file with the hospital.

Snapping the chart shut, Gabriel removed his glasses then smoothed back the thick strands of black hair that had fallen over his eyes. Edward noticed the additional streaks of silver his godfather had gained over the past couple of years. Perhaps it was because the threat of someone whom he loved so greatly dying was so prominent in his heart; Edward wished he'd made more time for Gabriel.

"Five minutes, Edward. It's all I can give you for now."

As if he'd held his breath the entire time Gabriel reviewed Bella's chart, Edward blew a strong burst of air, then nodded once in appreciation.

His legs felt weak when he reached the door of Bella's room, as if he'd run a marathon, even though it'd taken just a minute to return to her. Edward's heart beat spastically as he gripped the handle, and he thought he might vomit. Once inside her room, Edward took in her frailty, so evident to him now. He cursed himself for thinking he could actually protect her by hiring an absent babysitter. Even more so, Edward hated himself for not loving Bella harder. She'd have known then, if Edward hadn't pretended as though it was okay for her to see other men, she'd have known he'd loved her and maybe - probably - she wouldn't be lying here now. His head throbbed, his inner voice screaming profanities at his stupidity and ignorance.

Edward took her hand in his as he knelt by her bed. He lightly kissed her knuckles, and then his vision blurred from his tears. With his free hand, he gripped the hem of the sheet hanging loosely off the side of her bed, and he pressed his forehead into the edge of the mattress. His face wet with tears and mucus, over and over again he rasped, "I'm sorry."

a/n Thank you for reading. This won't be a long fic, and I'm not sure how frequently I'll post. I have two other fics in the works which I haven't updated since the summer. I took a nice, long break from writing and a small one from Twilight altogether. It was nice, but I missed it. Anyway, I'm glad to be writing again, and thanks to all who still want to read regardless of my sporadic updates.

I did a Twitter poll last night for names to use for Dr. Reyes - Twitter is so much better than Google at times - so, thank you to mskathy, choclover 82, morethanmyself, eli_21, UNF4Pellan, squarrell, and tyra for giving me suggestions. 3