Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "The Llight" as performed by Sara Bareilles, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

A/N: To my ever fantastic clarabella75, thank you. :) Even without internet you work to get my words perfect and back to me.

To This Guilty Blood and my fantabulous, lovely, ever extraordinary ficwife, Puppymama0909, thank you for telling me to go with my gut. I guess it hasn't (mostly) failed me so far. Your encouragement means I feel like I can reach for the sky - and maybe touch it, too.

To all of my readers, silent, reviewing, alerting, favoriting, or just plain out sitting there, thank you! Without you, this story would have no eyes, no heart, and no love. You've chosen to hurt ... so I hope you're ready for the love that blossoms from pain.

To anyone who I have hurt, or angered, or saddened, through pure motherly defense or by accident, please accept my whole hearted apology. Without suffering, we would not know the truth of joy. It has hurt me to put you through the pain.

But now, I hope I can begin to heal the hurt.

Much love and happy reading.

Chapter Seventeen:
Refresher Course

Never mind what I knew, nothing seems to matter now.
Who I was without you, I can do without.
No one knows where it ends, how it may come tumbling down.

But I'm here with you now. I'm with you now.

And if you say, "It'll be alright"
I'm gonna trust you, babe
I'm gonna look in your eyes
And if you say, "It'll be alright"
I'll follow you into the light

"The Light" – Sara Bareilles

x0x0x0x0x0x

I had lost … everything. And it was my fault.

Or was it?

My feet pounded against the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator. Everyone else had chosen to stay behind, by Edward's side, but I had another pain which was stripping my heart to pieces. I tried to force it into a subtle calm.

"Bella." My name was written with the sound of relief, heavy in Jasper's voice.

I flew into his arms, forgetting propriety. He held me easily.

"How is she?"

He shook his head, voice hoarse.

"I don't know. She's … still unconscious. She got up caught between the passenger seat and the tree, in what was left of the window."

Swirls of pungent smoke rose into the silent, supple night air; thin wisps stretching and reaching for the stars, calling into the high places, pushing forward, ineffaceable, hungry for a journey which would crush them, ruthless.

Life. Life was like that – a game no one is meant to win.

My breath caught in my throat; the nausea rolled in waves over my entire body, physically disabling me. But I overrode my brain and stood straight, for Jasper. I stepped back and stared at him.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes were red and watered out. He was silent as he studied me. I shifted under his gaze, rubbing my foot against my calf.

"Bella … are you okay?"

I was confused.

"Of course."

"Why?"

It had read my hand, played me for a fool. It was the night of death, with no hope for stars.

I was losing him again, and she was slipping away. And here I was ... I was losing it, and it was my fault. I could do nothing but pity myself, nothing but face the reality of what was slipping through my fingers as easily as sand, scattered by the winds of Fate.

"What do you mean why? Can't I just be okay?"

I didn't know why this conversation was turning in my direction. Jasper's eyes cut across my face. Understanding dawned.

"Bella. Your father died." His words sucked my breath away. "Your best friend died. You were abandoned."

"Jasper, I –"

"Then he came back. Because he didn't die. He was stolen."

I flinched backwards, physically stepping away. Jasper advanced, eyes fixed on me.

"He yelled at you. He broke your heart. Again."

I hit the wall without realizing I had been moving. My hands shook against the cold paint. I forced the tears away.

"Now, he's dying."

My throat contracted.

"Again."

I shook my head, my knees weakening. Jasper caught me in one arm and lowered me to the tile floor. His other hand pointed limply towards the ICU.

"And so is she."

Fate ... chance had nothing to do with it. Life, God, Fate … they were all mocking me, mocking my every breath.

I heaved oxygen, struggling to retain any strand of consciousness as a world of pain crushed my lungs. I was wheezing.

"Breathe, Bella." His whispers reached my ears while his hand traveled up my back, lightly fluttering against my spine. "It's okay … just let it out."

It was as though he was telling me to feel. My heart clenched in fear, lungs struggled with shuddering breaths. Emotions raged through my system – pain, hurt, rejection, dismal disbelief and insane love. But fear pushed forward, reaching for the tips of my tears and pulling them back in, where I couldn't feel again.

I sniffled and choked, tasting the bile while I struggled to stop the tears in their tracks.

Jasper's hand tightened around my arm.

"Stop." He shook me lightly. "Stop it. Now."

I swallowed, tears stretching my eyes, struggling against the black puddles of nothing which wanted those emotions, sought them and longed to free me from the pain.

"But I-I-" I hiccuped. "I can do this, Jasper."

"You don't need to do this, Bella." He sighed as his words swam in front of my eyes, nearly tangible. "Stop running. Pain … well, it makes people do stupid things, make stupid choices." His eyes met mine. "But the fear of pain? It forces people to make even stupider ones."

My head whispered to my heart.

It should be you … they took your place … because you were too frightened to face what they knew.

But I wouldn't be anymore.

His dark, crisp green eyes burned through me, searing the truth into my veins. It wasn't all my fault. I had my part, the disillusionment, the running, the disbelief … all sparked by my inability to understand … myself.

I had been running. From me.

The tears fell harder now, thick, jealous rivers of every bottled up emotion since that night nine years ago. Renee's words, building a fence around my heart.

His words, digging a trench beneath it.

Jasper's words, setting flame to the wood.

The crisp crackle of orange ember blazed and then burnt out.

"Here." Jasper pressed his hand into my palm. I looked down, the thin, cylindrical object swimming in my vision. Blinking twice, I frowned.

It'd been years since I'd –

"You need it. Trust me. It'll help."

I couldn't look up at him, but his presence disappeared from beside me. I was hoisted to my feet, limbs pliable and willing, like one of those paper dolls, all flat and narrow.

"Go outside. Pull yourself together." Hints of a smile. "I'm not letting you into that room all snot-faced and hysterical. Go cry yourself out somewhere else." He nudged me towards the door. "Then we'll talk about you growing up and dealing with this situation."

I tossed the wasted cigarette and stepped inside.

I walked towards the ICU, Jasper's fingers resting on my shoulder, clenching hesitantly.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The solitary evenness of the machinery aligned with my heartbeat. I could feel it shake and rattle my ribcage. Artificially alive. I was the same.

But I didn't have to be.

I could feel that truth, burning at a steady, rounded pace, small ashes of flames working to destroy the dark pit of nothing in me.

I pulled at the cigarette, tasting the acrid smoke and feeling the nicotine bubble in my blood.

I felt more … whole. But I didn't feel ready for what life was steadily chucking at me, hard object by spiked one.

My stomach clenched the sight of her, long hair sheared away, bandaged and torn and so very unnaturally still.

Not Alice.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rhythm changed, slowed … faded.

Life blurs. Only the noise stretches on.

Life vanishes.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

I wouldn't remember what happened next, if my heart hadn't stopped at the exact same moment as hers.

Time crumbled, and I followed suit, straight into Jasper's arms.

Only he wasn't there to catch me either.

Both of us collapsed, pressed backwards by the steady flow of bodies which seemed to surround her, her shorn hair and her broken body, the high pitched squeal becoming just background noise to a whining defibrillator and controlled, steady shouts.

I couldn't breathe until I felt the steady thump of her heartbeat re-enter my ears.

They escorted us out.

The cement was hard. The air was cold, the hum of interstate traffic steady.

I didn't know where to start.

Paper crumpled to ash, burning embers taking sweet surrender with it, and I stubbed number three out on the wooden bench, flicking the butt into the trash bin.

The pack of menthols hung in my face.

I slid the round stick from its home and watched the paper catch, crackles of red and orange blaze. I drew in, blew out. Still tangled.

"I'm gonna owe you a whole pack if you keep offering."

His chuckle was gravel.

"Nah. Don't worry. You'll pay me back one day."

Lips clamped firmly around paper ends. Breathe in. Blow out.

No more unwound. I was so confused.

"So." He shifted to face me. "What are you gonna do now that he knows?"

Smoke swam in front of me. I flicked off the ash.

"What do you mean?"

Rueful smiles. So like his sister.

"Don't play dumb, Bella." He presses his cig to the wood, an early death. "He isn't theirs."

My spine bristled, hair on the back of my neck edged.

He isn't mine, either. "He's no one's." I slammed the wasted end down on the heavy oak.

"No parents?"

My eyes slid shut, chest clenching. More pain.

"No." I swallowed. Jasper leaned against the concrete barrier. "No living family that I know of."

His foot knocked into mine, a swift kick.

"Then … for now … it's your responsibility." He grinned before meandering away, back into the brightly lit building. "Growing up's the shits."

Why oh why did my best friend's boyfriend have to be a walking, talking after-school special?

I needed another pack of menthols.

With an absolute force of will, I trudged through the icy air and back into the confines of a place I never wanted to set foot in again.

This time, I found myself standing in his room instead of hers. Esme stood and stretched, her eyes gesturing me to her place. I sank into the chair, still warm from her slight weight. Both mister and missus vanished from the sterile, medicated space.

I watched him.

Each breath was peaceful, so steady, an eloquent hum that punctuated the intermittent hiss of oxygen. Everything about the unnatural scene was an antithesis to its meaning. I ran my fingertips along his hairline, collecting the thin layer of sweat gathering there.

He could have been sleeping.

If he hadn't looked more like a pillow from the number of gauzy pads lining his body. So, I told him so.

"You know, I could use you as fabric."

The words hung in the sterile air. Dry. No meaning. Sarcasm wasn't an escape this time around. I wrapped my fingers around his limp hand, pulling the palm to my cheek and nestling in the scent of calluses and soap.

"I don't know what to do." These words slipped through as easily as my tears.

For the first time, I didn't fight them – either of them.

"I barely know how to love you." I hiccuped, a dismal snort of not-really amusement. "I'm not even sure I like myself. But I know … I know I have to be here." My thumb traced the line of his wrist, drenched in my tears. "Edward … you're the only thing I have left … I just … I loved you – I love you – so completely, when I lost you … somehow, somewhere along the way, I lost me."

It was almost as though, with an audible snap, my head and heart clicked into place. My tears fell faster, a baptismal for both our hands.

"I promise … I will find us." His hand slid up my check and I leaned into it lightly, using his palm to cradle my face, reminiscing in the heady weight of his touch.

His solid, firm finger flexed against my cheek.

My eyes opened – to meet dark green and gold.

His hand slid from my grasp to the bed. I leapt from my seat. The plastic chair clattered to the ground behind me. His eyelids flickered, bleary eyed and wan, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

"Edward?"

As it had been so prone to doing lately, time slowed.

His eyes, so unfocused, centered on me, his fingers curling into his palm and out while he watched me. I stood, stunned, unable to move, sheer joy, panic, and pain a hazy potion. Wild emotion flickered through his eyes, each a span of what seemed like hours, but could only have been seconds, before his brow furrowed.

The door swung open, a rumble of footsteps background noise to the voice I had thought I would never hear again.

But the words that voice carried to my unbelieving ears … you could have drowned me in the Atlantic Ocean, and I wouldn't have cared.

"Who – who are you?"

My heart stopped. My knees weakened. My spine slouched. I fell, suspended in air, bones and muscles and tendons not enough to hold me in place.

All I saw was black.

And grass.

Lots and lots of grass.

I sat up, my hands rising to meet my head, but it didn't throb. Instead, I found my hair in tiny ringlets, curled against the back of my neck, warm from the sunshine cascading through slits in the trees.

The fucking hell –

"Isabella Marie, your mother may not have been the best role model, but I know I didn't teach you to use that kind of language."

No flipping way.

My eyes darted around the endlessly flat, grassy field I sat in, until they landed on his frame.

Dad.

I sprang to my feet in a single motion and practically ran through the ankle length weeds. My shoulders, my heart, my head, it was all light again, airy, and I threw myself into my father's embrace. His thick, warm hands wrapped around my shoulders. His mustache bristled against my neck. I flinched away.

"Ew, Dad. I didn't think angels were allowed to have facial hair." I tugged at the thick whiskers over his upper lip. He brushed my touch away.

"I'm no angel, Bells." His fingers wrapped around my hand entirely, pulling me over a few feet to a hand sewn blanket I recognized – Gram's favorite quilt. "And before you ask, I'm not a ghost, either."

I sat on the blanket, ignoring the fact that I was now in a white, eyelet lace dress, and wound a strand of hair around my index finger – just like I did when I was seven.

"Well, not to be too obvious, but," I dropped my hair and pointed the finger at him, "you're kind of dead, so what are you?"

Charlie laughed.

"We need to talk, Bells."

I snorted.

"Like I haven't said that a thousand times in the past nine years. However, I reiterate – you're dead." I ran my hand through the grass. "So what the fu – what am I doing here? And, more importantly, what are you doing here?"

"It's just like I said, honey. We need to talk. Father to daughter." He smiled and ran a hand over my knee.

Okay. I could go along with this.

"So." I ripped a few pieces of grass up and scattered them to the breeze. "What do we need to talk about?"

He shrugged. "How about you tell me?"

I scowled. "I thought this was your conversation."

He smiled. "Bella … you're talking to yourself."

Wha – Oh. I got it now.

Charlie nodded. "That's right. You need someone in your life, someone that should have been there from the beginning. So your subconscious gave you me."

Well, that didn't help. I didn't want to talk to myself.

"It's about time you got to know yourself, don't you think?"

"Oh shut up, me."

Subconscious Charlie laughed and then frowned. "So he's forgotten you again, hasn't he Bells?"

My insides cracked.

"I know."

"You can't run from him, Bella." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's time to make a decision."

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away. I should have known this could never be my father. Charlie always sucked at conversations with lessons in them.

"He loves you, Bells. Maybe it's not obvious, maybe it's not right there on the surface, but he loved you the first time, he loved you last time, and he loves you this time. And you don't get to stick around just to see, either." His hand ruffled my curls. I was fourteen again. "You choose to stay here, to love him like you know you do, and give him the chance to love you too, or you walk away now, and leave him for someone else to love."

"But Dad –"

His arms were around me in less than a second.

"I'm sorry, Bells. I'm sorry I was never there to help you learn … but you know now. It's okay to feel. It's okay to hurt … because if you can't take the chance to hurt, you don't deserve the chance to love."

My head shot around, tears heavy in my eyes.

Why was I always crying now?

Charlie smiled, his huge hand, always holding his gun, now holding my face, and with it, my heart.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's gonna be okay."

I sniffled. "I miss you, Daddy."

"I know. But you're a big girl now. I must've done something right, because you're a beautiful woman. And you're strong – a lot stronger than you realize."

He stood. A gentle weight tugged at my shoulders. I was suddenly exhausted; my head screamed at me to lie down, to close my eyes and feel the world slow around me. I leaned back against my elbows. Charlie began to walk away.

"You'll make the right decision, Bells. You were always smarter than your mother and me – combined."

The invisible weight seemed to grab my neck, but when my head landed, it was soft and fluffy and cotton-filled.

And it smelled distinctly like …

An Emmett-filled hospital.

I blinked twice, my vision hazy at best. Emmett's favorite cologne drifted over my senses, filling my nose, while his voice infiltrated my ear drums.

"Bells? Bella, are you there?"

Instead of responding, my hand immediately reached up and smacked him in the side of the head.

"Ow! Jesus, Bells, that shit hurts!"

"I know. Thank you for saving me, Em. Now, will you please get out of my face?"

Emmett leaned back and I leaned forward, pressing up on my elbows, only to find myself in a small room on a hospital bed. Emmett was rubbing his ear.

"The nurse told me to bring you in here. Couldn't very well have an unconscious girl in a room with a guy who just came out of a coma. Said if you didn't wake up in thirty minutes, they'd check on you."

I rubbed the inside of my very sore sides and underarms. My entire body felt like it had been hit with a Mack truck.

"I thought only hangovers made you feel this bad," I mumbled, before glancing up at Emmett. "So … I didn't dream it?" Em looked at me, eyes wary. "He's awake?"

"Yeah Bells … he's awake. And he's good, for the most part. Vitals are okay. He's still in a lot of pain though, so they amped up his morphine."

I wanted to hold him.

The sudden urge – no, the absolute need – to wrap my arms around his waist and take away the pain hit me harder than stiff joints and throbbing muscles ever could have. I nearly collapsed again.

"And – his … I mean – him ... remembering –"

"It's sketchy." Emmett sighed, using one hand to cradle his head. "They said they knew there was a chance, cause in the crash he landed on the same area that got all fucked up into a bloody mess last time, but they couldn't be sure unless he woke up." He snorted. "Well, at least now they're sure."

I groaned, the noise an ache from deep within my chest. Could I really start over? Could I do it all again? He barely remembered me last time; now, after all of my rejections, what right did I have to try and force a life he didn't know on him all over again?

I loved him. It was plain as day, no more fighting, no more protesting. I loved Edward.

But did I love Trevor? I didn't know.

I could barely decide on whether or not I trusted myself in this mess. But I knew Dream Daddy was right. It wasn't fair to tug him along while I figured my shit out. I had a choice to make.

I just wasn't sure I had enough spine to make the one my entire body longed for.

"Bells, it's okay. Everything's gonna be –"

"No. Please, just stop telling me everything's going to be okay. Sometimes, things are just fucked up, okay?"

Emmett was silent.

"And it's alright for them to be fucked up. You just have to … figure out if you can deal with it." I breathed in, shakily, and glanced up at my best friend, at the person who had been with me from the beginning. "I mean, really, what kind of chance do I have? It's not like he would even remember last time, especially not me, so, I mean, what do I really mean to him –"

Emmett's hand slapped over my mouth. I glared, debating on sinking my teeth into the side of his thumb.

"Whoa, Bella, slow your roll! And don't you dare fucking bite me." I glowered at him. He wasn't fazed. "What do you mean, what chance do you have? Bella … he remembered."

My mouth would have slid open, if not for Emmett's large hand pressed against my face.

"He … what?"

"He was at Rose's apartment, I guess after he talked to you. I showed them. The picture. I had to, Bells, I just couldn't lie to him anymore. Alice and Jasper found out too. That's why Alice went with him. They both wanted to apologize and bring you home." He grimaced, removing the hand from my face and dragging it over his forehead. "It's my fault. If I could've kept my big mouth shut, they'd both still be okay."

I nearly laughed, the situation was so unbelievably ludicrous. He remembered. And Emmett blamed himself.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave …

"Em … thank you."

He didn't even look up.

"What?"

I leaned over and kissed the giant, grizzly cheek.

"Thank you. I could never have done what you did. You were braver than I was, Em." I slid off the bed, catching myself when my balance wavered, and finally standing on my own.

Now, it's my turn to be brave.

"Bells, what –"

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault," I called back over my shoulder, nearly sprinting down the hall. I halted in front of the door. Room 524.

"If you can't take the chance to hurt, you don't deserve the chance to love."

I wanted my chance. I would give him a choice. And I might break my heart, again, in the process. This time, though, I knew – the chances, the choices … in those lay the beauty of life.

I pressed open the door and stepped through.

Carlisle noticed me first, followed by Esme, and then a nurse who scampered about the room, running a series of vital checks. Edward seemed to be dozing, his eyelashes fluttering against pale, bruised cheeks.

"Bella," Carlisle reached out for me and then dropped his hand, unsure. I wondered if this was the first time he'd ever been unsure in his life. "We're glad you're okay." The nurse brushed by me, leaving the room.

Esme stood and walked towards me first, taking my hand in hers.

"He's been asking for you." She faltered. "Well, not by name, but … we promised. As soon as you woke up, we'd give you both privacy." Her lips pursed. "Please, be gentle with him, Bella." I could see the plea in her eyes.

Don't tell him. Not yet.

If only she could know … her wish would be granted, but not for her sake.

Carlisle laid a hand on my shoulder as they walked past me. "Don't hesitate to call a nurse if anything happens, Bella. It's as easy as pushing a button."

I nodded, holding my breath until they were both gone.

Each step was an easy battle, heart waging war with my head, my past dripping from me like shedding skin. Who I used to be, every scar, every wound, every abandonment – I longed to strip them from my body, to keep them from who I would be. The person that mattered here, in this room, was the person I longed to be now.

I dropped her to the floor, my paper doll, my flat, insufficient character, and I stepped into me.

A whole, full woman, who would be worthy of his love.

Finally, as a new, better, growing version of me, I sank to Edward's bedside. I took his hand. And I waited.

Minutes passed, I didn't know how long, but every moment gave me another to study his form – the motion of his chest, the throbbing of his heartbeat on each monitor and beneath the tips of my fingers. They were no longer painful, but joyful; the evidence of his life, of the living, breathing, chance I had to reconstruct the shattered existence fate had made of us.

I laid my head against his forearm when I felt the muscles twitch beneath me. I glanced up. Gold-specked green was staring at me, an odd mix of confusion and care tucked beneath his heavy-lidded gaze.

The morphine.

"Hi." I couldn't bring my voice over a whisper.

"Hi." His normally sweet tenor had gone through a meat grinder.

I started to stand and adjust, when he panicked. His hand grabbed for me and wrapped around my elbow.

"Please. Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were hesitant on my tongue, but I knew he needed to hear them. "I promise."

He relaxed, slackening his grip, but instead of removing his hand, he slid it down my forearm and over my wrist, intertwining weak fingers with my shaking ones. He closed his eyes.

"Sit with me?" The hope in his voice didn't allow me to reject him. I edged gingerly onto the side of the bed, resting my weight on the balls of my feet. Clinging to his weak grip on my hand.

He swallowed. "I feel … I …" I watched him scowl before finally spitting the words out. "Are you my wife?"

I smiled, my thumb stroking up the inside of his hand.

"You really don't remember, do you?" He shook his head gingerly, eyes still closed. "Well … I wouldn't exactly call me your wife … or even really your girlfriend."

"But you're something." He hesitated. "Who … what's your name?"

"Bella," I croaked out.

He rolled the name on his lips. "Bella." His eyes opened, head crooking sideways. "Isabella?"

Oh, shit …

I nodded, tears in my throat.

"Bella fits better." His hand squeezed mine lightly. "You may not be my girlfriend or wife, Bella, but … you're something. I know." He tugged at our twined hands. I was a feather. His light touch pulled me over, till I landed neatly next to him, my waist tucked in the crook of his elbow, narrowly avoiding a few tubes attached to his oxygen meters. "I can feel it." His eyes brushed mine, the corner of his mouth attempting a smirk before he flinched in pain. "And you can too."

Edward ...

"Bella … why am I here?" His eyes closed again, his head sliding into the space between my neck and shoulder. "No one will tell me."

"Fine," I attempted a grin, "but I get the next question." He smiled a bit. I swallowed thickly, the words forced from my tongue. "You were in an accident. A car accident. You lost control in a snowstorm, nearly collided with a semi, and ended up wrapped around a tree." Well, really, a few trees. "That's all we know."

"Okay," he murmured, silent while digesting the information. His eyes darkened a little before he looked at me. "Your turn."

"What do you remember?"

He gave a half sigh at this. I had the feeling it was a question he'd been over a lot.

"Not much. I remember ... a few things from my childhood … my parents," he squinted, "they got … divorced?" He frowned. "But that's not right, because they were here. I don't know. I don't know what I'm remembering. I remember a horse. And a blonde … but she wasn't right." He turned his head, facing me. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."

I started to shush him, but one glance silenced me.

"But I do know you. I think … something in me remembers you, even if I don't." He grimaced. "That's something though, right?" I couldn't speak. His eyes scanned my face again. I could only stare. A strange glint appeared. He smiled, his arm tightening on my waist.

"I think … everything feels better, safer, now that you're here, next to me. " He hesitated. "I think … I may have loved you, Bella."

I hiccuped a sob. The tears made it out of my throat, cascading down my cheeks. Panic lit up his heartbeat.

"Please – don't – everything's just … it's so complicated … and so very … fucked up," I spluttered, a mix of tears and laughter.

"Bella." The pain in his voice was nothing compared to the pain on his face as he moved, tugging at cords, pulling their slack.

I protested and he grunted, pressing me down, enclosing me in his embrace and gathering me as close as his wounds would allow. His nose pushed into my hair, chapped lips catching the crown of my head.

"You care about me, right?"

You have no idea.

I nodded, unable to speak. He pulled my face around. His eyes caught my heart.

"Then it's okay. We'll figure it out. Everything will be alright."

Alas, I have no mini-moments, as Edward doesn't remember much of this time anyhow; however, I would love to send you a snapshot of the next chapter.

Just a bit more, and then this story will be nothing but a memory ... I hope it will at least be a good one.