A/N: SM owns it all. :/
As I've stated before, some things about this story may bother some people.
A small smile: encouraging, sympathetic, inviting? No, the smile on the doctor's lips was welcoming, alerting her she was back among the living.
"Hi, there," he said quietly, glancing up from the chart while he finished scribbling whatever discoveries, notes, or thoughts he felt necessary to enter into Bella's file.
Bella's mouth was dry, her lips tight, and her skin clammy. Her head felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. She didn't say anything; she simply stared at him and the ID badge clipped onto his white coat which read Gabriel Reyes, M.D..
Numbly, she watched him as he walked toward a small table stationed at the far side of the room; everything seemed to move in slow motion, a haze. Bella watched as he pocketed his pen, set down her chart, and then grasped a blue plastic pitcher. He poured water into a Styrofoam cup, and she watched his profile, the corner of his eye wrinkled as he squinted momentarily as though he was in deep thought or troubled by something. She watched every slight or decisive movement he made because it was so much better than otherwise coping with her present situation.
"Thirsty?" he asked, offering her the drink. She declined.
Bella waited through his introduction and his telling of her current physical condition, and that she'd be moved that day to a private psychiatric hospital. She showed no surprise and simply inquired for how long. She didn't bother asking who'd found her, it could only have been one person. The thought of facing Edward after he'd seen her, acknowledging what she'd tried to do was…
A myriad of feelings shot through her: shame, anger… loss.
She pushed further into her pillow, and her tears began to fall.
"That's a little more complicated, I'm afraid," Gabriel answered and pulled a chair next to her bed. He sat then rested his hand over her forearm.
/
Three days later
"Are you comfortable here?" Gabriel asked, sitting opposite Bella.
"Not really."
"I can't allow you to go just yet."
"I know. Fourteen days, danger to myself. I know."
"I spoke with your therapist, and he-"
"Told you I'm an extraordinary case? Perhaps I was a success story?" She laughed darkly. "That I manage quite well given the circumstances? Yes, I know."
"Do you think you do?"
"What do you think?" Bella tugged at the hem of her pants, her legs curled underneath her.
"I'd say no."
"Well, there you go then."
"I don't like to play games, Isabella."
"Neither do I, Dr. Reyes."
He gestured with a subtle tilt of his head for her to continue, for her to explain herself.
"You should know - believe me or don't, that's up to you – Edward had nothing to do with the reason for me being here. And after going through all the bullshit to get to the root of my manic depression, you'll only tell me how I was the victim, how it wasn't my fault ad nauseam, but the truth is, it doesn't change a thing."
"I wasn't planning on taking that route, but since you brought it up, Isabella, it wasn't your fault – you were just a child. And, for the record, after speaking with you over the past few days, you don't strike me as the type of woman who would want to commit suicide because of her lover. That's just an educated guess, of course. But you are, undoubtedly, incredibly sad, and I don't believe it has to be that way, at least not all of the time. And certainly not so severely it would bring you to the point of no other form of escapism other than death."
"I've accepted how things will always be for me, Doctor."
"Do you think you deserve to live like this?"
"Am I deserving? I have no idea. You just have to play the cards you're dealt."
"I see. Well, Isabella, if you don't mind me being candid, that's a load of shit."
Bella, a little surprised by Dr. Reyes' lack of guile, raised her brow slightly. "Are you always so frank?"
Gabriel chuckled then rapped his fingertips against the arms of his chair; he sat further back, the leather crunching from his movement. "Yes, I am." He paused momentarily. "But some would call my methods… unorthodox."
Decidedly, the remaining days Bella was lawfully required to remain under psychiatric observation in the bleak setting of the hospital would be nothing more than a waste. If Gabriel treated Bella as he would any other patient, he would speak with her regularly, require her to spend time in group therapy, prescribe anti-depressants, all the while hoping for some sort of breakthrough. But Bella was not just another one of Gabriel's patients - presumably, she'd play along with his methods whether honestly or not – and he couldn't help but feel something for her. Perhaps it was simply because Bella was his godson's lover. Even more so, she was the center of Edward's world; it didn't take long for Gabriel to come to this conclusion.
Edward called Gabriel daily, insisting on progress reports, begging for permission to see Bella. Though it wasn't Gabriel who denied him, it was Bella, and he could see, in those first few days, how it tormented her to refuse Edward. Gabriel easily noted the anguish in Edward's voice and in his face when they met for coffee one afternoon. That same afternoon, Gabriel had told Bella what his relationship was to Edward; she privately declared conflict of interest and demanded another doctor. A few hours later, however, she rescinded her request, and Gabriel knew she'd use him to maintain her connection with Edward.
More days passed, and the sessions between Bella and Gabriel had grown comfortably stagnant. Despite the developed ease they'd felt with one another, her progression wasn't where he wanted it to be. She answered all of his questions correctly, followed his orders… took her meds. Still, Bella was only a shell – her glazed eyes showed no depth, no warmth.
What Gabriel didn't know was that at night, Bella would fall asleep with the light on. It was a feeble attempt to drown out thoughts of Edward and what would never be that so violently penetrated her heart and mind. During the day, she lived among her psychotic peers, following routine after daily, mundane routine. She'd made plans, though, even through the fog in her brain. Once released, she'd pack only things she'd need in the immediate future and relocate. Idealistically, she'd go to another state or perhaps, and even more inviting, another country. She'd entertained romantic notions of speaking through gestures until she familiarized herself with the language as she purchased baguettes in a café while people drank wine in the middle of the day or bartered the price of an exquisitely made handbag on a bustling street corner – she would yell in her native tongue while the merchant appropriately returned the tone back in his own. That was as far as her plans had gotten, though; she couldn't see any further than the instant thrill of something new, a temporary distraction. Because the few times her mind had wandered further, albeit fortuitously, she'd buy a loaf of freshly baked bread or a silk handbag, and the fantasy played out until Bella saw Edward's smile when she showed him her purchases.
Bella so desperately wanted to touch Edward, feel his skin and his warm breath against her cheek.
She missed him.
She wondered if Gabriel detected any of this when he mentioned Edward the two or three times over the course of their sessions. She wasn't entirely sure of how concealing her mask was no matter how hard she had tried to preserve it.
It was just twenty-four hours prior to Bella's release from the hospital when Gabriel entered her room. It was unseasonably cold; Bella lay on her side, watching tiny snow flurries dance and swirl outside her window. Gabriel walked toward the window, crossed his arms and leaned back against the sill as Bella sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, then clutched the edge of her bed. She cast her eyes downward, first crossing her left ankle over the right and then back again.
"I have a daughter a few years younger than you. Have I mentioned that?" he asked, cocking his head.
"No."
"She's stubborn. You remind me of her."
Bella nodded, her eyes quickly flickered toward the thick silver band on his left ring finger.
"Do you want to go home tomorrow?"
Bella was surprised her immediate reaction was not "Yes," rather she wasn't sure how she felt about going back to her apartment. She remained focused on a fleck of gray in the deep blue carpet of her room and answered, "Mm hm."
He sighed audibly, shifted his stance and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I don't think you're ready, Isabella."
She clucked her tongue. "Ready or not, you're not required to keep me here any longer."
"This is true." Gabriel's accent was heavier than normal; Bella noticed this happened when he seemed aggravated by a response she'd given him. "I have an offer, if you're open to it, and one that could possibly cost me my license." He huffed out a laugh.
Bella looked at Gabriel. In the gray light coming through her window, her sallow complexion appeared even more pallid, and the circles under her eyes darker.
"I'm scared for you. And it's not that I don't trust you, Isabella, I don't trust your surroundings."
Bella furrowed her brow, confused.
"I'm afraid if you go back to your normal routine… your profession, well, I don't think… I want you to take a break for a while."
Bella closed her eyes in annoyance, and shook her head.
Throughout the past two weeks, Gabriel hadn't once suggested she give up what she thought she did best; he didn't have enough time to argue with her.
"And do what?" she asked. "Hole up in my apartment and learn to crochet? Maybe get a cat and spend my days reflecting? Or would you suggest I get a respectable job and become an upstanding member of society?"
"Not exactly." Gabriel reached in his pocket, pulled out a key then tossed it to Bella. "I have a home a few hours from here. I like to go there on the weekends; it's quiet, peaceful. Take it for a while." Say, yes, Isabella. You can trust me.
Bella rubbed the bronze key between her thumb and index finger. "Why? What do you want from me?"
"Nothing. You need distance."
"Do I?" she muttered still staring down at the key. Bella looked back at Gabriel, her eyebrow cocked provokingly. "Do you do this for all your patients?"
He shook his head then brushed a thick, black lock of hair away from his eyes. "No. Believe me," he said, his eyes grew wide in mock horror. "It's like I told you earlier; you remind me of my daughter. And we can have our sessions there – but only if you're comfortable with that." He spoke quickly through the latter, confirming she had control.
"How do you know I won't rob you blind?" she joked. She didn't smile yet her humor was sincere, and it felt good.
Gabriel grinned and scratched the back of his head. "I have lots of insurance, so it wouldn't be a problem."
"How do you know I won't report you for unethical practices?" she asked.
"Do you feel you should?"
Bella looked into Gabriel's eyes; they were honest. She found that she trusted him, so much more than she thought would. She wanted to ask if Edward had anything to do with Gabriel's offer, but thought otherwise. Isn't that what he meant by distance? To get away from everything in her life, including Edward?
"I'll think about it," she said and placed the key on the nightstand.
"Good."
As Gabriel walked toward the door, Bella asked, "You really are unorthodox, aren't you?"
He chuckled then closed the door behind him.
/
Bella had taken two wrong turns before she finally found the address Dr. Reyes had given her. The British female voice of her GPS failed miserably when it came to unmarked roads. She wasn't surprised by this; Bella only kept the instrument on as a means for one-sided company during the three-hour drive. Maybe I am a little crazy, she thought sardonically.
As she stepped inside Dr. Reyes's weekend home, she inhaled. Bella took a deep, sobering breath; the staleness with subtle notes of lemon furniture polish was oddly comfortable to her. It was nondescript, unidentifiable as the home of her psychiatrist. How should it have smelled? A mixture of rubbing alcohol and potpourri like the hospital? Or perhaps dust and leather. Bella shook her head and made her way to her assigned bedroom: up the stairs, second door on the left.
There was nothing grand about the home, yet it gave no impression of simple modesty either. All cherry wood floors and cabinets, lush carpeting in the bedrooms – she peeked, through all five of them - oversized furniture, and thick, richly colored textiles. There were pictures, mostly black and white prints, but some with color, hanging objectively on the pale blue painted walls. Gabriel had promised there would be enough food in the refrigerator to last a few days, and there was. How or when he'd brought in fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats she wasn't sure, but it was there, waiting for her to do with as she pleased. He also promised he'd come to the house the following day and from there they'd work out a schedule.
Bella walked into the living area: a television, a fireplace, some books and magazines, and double French doors that led to a small stone patio. There were several pictures sitting atop the wooden mantel, mostly, what she assumed, to be family pictures. She focused on none, searching for a picture of Edward - one of him in his youth, but there was nothing. She wondered if there had been and if Dr. Reyes had any evidence of Edward removed when he had the refrigerator stocked. She also wondered why he was going to such trouble for her. Bella picked up a gold-framed picture of a young woman; surely this was his daughter. The woman resembled Dr. Reyes with her light olive skin, black hair, and deep, honest eyes. Bella didn't see a picture of Dr. Reyes's wife, however. What did Mrs. Reyes think about Bella being in her vacation home? Did she even know? Bella had never been concerned with men's wives before, why should she start now?
Opening the French doors, Bella shivered from the cold breeze. She stepped out onto the patio, hugging her sweater tightly around her. The sun had just set, and the lines of the trees were becoming blurred. As Bella looked to her left, she saw a triangular, glass structure; a soft white light bounced in waves off its transparent walls. She walked down the stone pathway, curious to see what it was. Once she was feet away, she discovered the building housed a pool and was attached to the house by an enclosed breezeway. Bella dared to continue and step inside, but as she gripped the door handle, she stopped. Edward was a swimmer. She'd known this from his skin smelling faintly of chlorine every so often.
Bella returned to the house, her head tilted down the entire way. She wasn't hungry, but she stir-fried strips of chicken with rainbow peppers and yellow squash if for no other reason than to have something to do. Dr. Reyes had a nice selection of wine; she chose a Sauvignon Blanc. As she washed and dried her dish and utensils, she wondered what the hell she was going to do in this isolated house over the next few weeks.
The front door creaked open loudly, followed by an apprehensive knock. "Hello? Isabella?"
His voice was unrecognizable, and Bella froze, wide-eyed and minutely concerned. She hadn't used her voice all day, and as she attempted to clear it, to answer the stranger, she heard his footsteps coming closer.
Bella backed around the island, putting it between her and the stranger who knew her name. She tightened her sweater around her; the sleeves were long and covered her hands. She ticked off possibilities of who this person was as she saw him peek around the corner: the doctor's assistant, a neighbor… who the fuck knows.
"Um, hi. I didn't mean to frighten you, and I'm so sorry if I'm bothering you, but," he held a brown shopping back in his hand and pulled out a four-pack of toilet paper. "I completely forgot to pick this up today when I got the groceries, and figured you might need to use the bathroom at some point. There might be tp already - there probably is, but I'd be up all night worrying that there wasn't."
Bella stared at the man expressionlessly, picked up her wine and drank what was left in the glass.
"Sorry," he said, walking toward Bella and extending his hand. "I'm Jasper."
A/N: Thank you so very much to askthemagic8ball and sncmom who fix my errors, listen to my ideas and tell me I'm not completely off my rocker, but, and more importantly, are wonderful friends. Also, huge thanks to Katinki who made herself available to read for me between writing her own chapter and pre-reading and everything else she has going on. She kinda rocks.
Still with the sporadic updates, so thank you for reading, reviewing, and adding my fic to your alerts anyway.