Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "If You Could Only See" as performed by Tonic, 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: My wonderful, lovely, complimentary, amazing beta-doll, clarabella75. She has fun, she has angst, she has love, and she has plot. If you aren't reading her fics, you are truly missing out.

To every single one of you out there, reading, reviewing, alerting, favorite-ing, enjoying, THANK YOU. :) I write this for me, and I write this for you. I may not be the biggest fish in a ocean of whales, but I am pretty much convinced - I have the most FANTASTIC readers in the fandom.

You all have stuck with me through thick and thin. And I thank you. Hugs, kisses, and cookies to all. :)

Also, I'm putting this here - review if you feel so inspired, and I'd love to reward you with a sneak peek into next chapter. That I already have written this time. :)

Now, with no further ado - Happy reading, my friends.

Chapter Eighteen:
Lighting the Dark

Well you got your reasons
And you got your lies
And you got your manipulations
They cut me down to size

Sayin' you love, but you don't
You give your love, but you won't

If you could only see the way she loves me
Then maybe you would understand
Why I feel this way about our love
And what I must do …

"If You Could Only See" - Tonic

x0x0x0x0x0x

I knew he was asleep when his hand sank against my bicep.

I knew he was so absolutely fucking gorgeous – even though he looked like he had been sent through a meat grinder and was ready to be made into Edward-burgers.

More so than anything, however, I knew he was right.

And because he was right, I knew I had to move. I was so close to drifting away, to simply curling up on the tiny bed made for one and finding my little bit of heaven tucked into his side, that it was time to keep going. Possibly even time to leave.

Every atom of my body, brain, heart, and soul was literally velcroed to the man at my side.

Lifting a sluggish arm, I ran my fingers through his short, damp hair.

I had to be strong enough to pull away, for both of us. Or we would never have a chance.

It took longer than I expected to unwind myself from the tubes and limbs without jostling anything vital, but when I finished, I leaned against the bed and pressed my hand to his cheek.

It was okay. We would be okay.

His hand ran the length of my arm. I couldn't speak for the tears pouring across my face, wetting his pillow. He cradled me. I was in awe. He was holding me, as gently as though I were the fragile one, a priceless, one-of-a-kind item he could never find again.

After a few moments, my tears dried up and my sobbing calmed. I could feel his chest against my side, rising and falling, his exhales stirring the hair against my cheek. Silence.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Please don't leave me again. I need you …" his words drifted. I looked up. His eyes were closed, his breathing evening out. "I need you," he breathed, hand playing absently on my shoulder, "to take care of me."

Without me in its way, his body rolled to the left, his heartbeat even and solid. My fingers ghosted across the bandage set back over his left eyebrow, towards the crown of his head.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. Until you can."

It didn't seem fair.

First, he hadn't had the age or the opportunity to take care of himself; every one of those decisions was taken away from him. Now, he didn't have the memory or the ability to take care of himself, and every decision he had could be taken away by more lies.

This time, however, he had me. And this time, I was determined to make sure that he had every opportunity to know the truth.

This time, it would be his choice to make. No more hiding.

Those words and that decision were how I found myself confronting my fear – and confronting their deception.

I leaned heavily against the fake wood chair rail, my foot swaying above the cheap vinyl tile, a nervous tick. I waited as patiently as I could for Emmett to return from Edward's room with the Cullens.

It had been nearly three full weeks since the accident – three weeks of blurred days, of fragile minutes spent in and out of my apartment, of calling Saint Joseph's my home, of shifting between his hospital bed and hers, of freeing myself from work as early as possible and stealing moments alone with him, of watching his body knit itself back together as the gauze disappeared from wound after wound.

I'd have thought it'd be tedious, waiting in those plastic chairs for a chance to see him, to touch him, to know things were going to be okay. Turns out love can make anything more than bearable – it can even make unbearable things joyful. Only because it meant I had a chance of going near him.

I had spent my hours with him talking, throwing out bits and pieces of the truth, feeding him his past and sharing what I did know of the person that might be hiding inside. I could barely believe that in a few days, he would be leaving these whitewashed halls and sterile lights.

In a few days, he would be coming home. I just wasn't sure where that home would be.

Now, it was time to start figuring things out.

I would let them know I was going to tell him the truth, and that he would have his own choice.

Three sets of eyes stared at me from across the waiting room, exiting the wide hallway, coming closer. I ran a nervous hand through my loose curls and tugged at the gold locket which never left my neck before glancing over at my best friend. The three solid figures stopped in front of me. Esme smiled genuinely.

"Bella."

I cut her off. If I let her speak first, I would never get past my fear.

"We need to talk."

The change was immediate. Esme's eyes glazed over; her husband's eyes stoned shut.

Emmett backed away.

"It's not my place, Bells." The words he didn't say hung thicker than my desperately beating heart. It's yours.

Okay. I can do this.

I faced Trevor's "parents."

"Can we talk, please?"

The plastic smile placed on Carlisle's face twisted my gut.

"Of course, Bella." One arm flew out, pointing towards the exit and a shaded alcove. "Please, lead the way."

Their steps were quiet behind me, echoing in the hollow hallway before clicking against the cobblestone sidewalk. I halted a few feet out from the entry way. One arm hung loose at my side, the other fidgeted with the locket. My stomach heaved and lurched. The couple in front of me clenched hands.

"What can we do for you, Bella." Carlisle broke the silence, his statement no more a question than my intent to beat around the bush.

I dropped the locket and took a deep breath.

"I'm sure you know what I wanted to speak with you about." They eyed me simultaneously. The motion would have been oddly disturbing if panic hadn't been firmly wrapped around my spine. I cleared my throat and stood straight, steeling myself.

"Things can't go back to the way they were." I hesitated only seconds before entwining myself in the situation. "I won't let it happen."

Esme hiccuped. Carlisle's hand gripped hers tightly.

"Please … continue."

I nodded.

"I know that this will be … difficult for everyone involved, but," I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek before my eyes met theirs, "he deserves to know the truth. All of it." I glanced at Esme, tear-rimmed, and then back to Carlisle.

Carlisle's jaw worked; I could see a defense brewing. I squared my shoulders.

"He deserves to make his own decisions. About everything."

Silence cut through the air, heavy. Carlisle's gaze remained fixed on me.

"I apologize for any pain we have caused you, and I'm disappointed you seem to feel this way about this situation, Isabella, but we're not certain we can allow you to send our son into a shock he may not be able to handle."

I worked over the anger at his hesitant threat and stared him down.

"I'm sorry, but, there's nothing you can do. He's an adult, and he's stronger than you think. Even if you wanted to claim legal rights over him …" I let my words fall, the insinuation more than enough.

They had no legal rights over a situation falling just short of kidnapping, and they would never be able to keep him from me; he demanded my presence daily. I glanced over towards the woman who still hadn't spoken.

Esme's eyes pierced mine, bright and green … the same shade as Edward's. My steady, hard pressed stance faltered. Against my better instinct, I took her hand.

"I know you have always loved him with everything you have. Even if the situation was wrong, I'll make sure he remembers that."

She nodded before pulling her hand away. I couldn't blame her. I'm not sure I'd have been able to take comfort from the one person who was about to rip a piece of my life away, no matter how wrong I had been to take it in the first place. Carlisle's voice stopped me as I turned back.

"Will you contact his parents?"

The question caught me off guard. My heart twisted faintly at the memory.

"No. None of his immediate family is alive, so far as I know."

I had watched the news of his death devour their spirits more violently than it had devoured my own. Her frail bones and thin hair. His violent hands and whiskey-drenched breath.

"When will you tell him?" Carlisle's words brought me back.

I shrugged a little. I didn't see the point in waiting.

"No time like the present, I guess."

And with that, I made my way back inside and towards the elevator.

My warpath halted in front of his door.

Carlisle and Esme hadn't followed me inside, but I honestly couldn't tell you what I would have done if they had. Continued?

I wasn't sure. But I knew in this case, I was stronger alone than surrounded by an army.

Before I could think again, I opened the door and quietly slipped into the small, rectangular room, sliding my trench coat from my shoulders and setting it on the chair in the corner. He was asleep, dozing calmly, the pale bruising lining his body merely a shadow compared to what it had been.

I felt it – the current beneath my skin, the tenable draw in his direction, the thin wires which had and would bind us together for eternity. They drew me to his side, where I leaned calmly against the thin mattress, my hands gliding up the side of his arm – the arm he was still relearning how to use.

His eyes fluttered, his forehead creasing before his lids flickered open, halfway. Within seconds, his entire face was aglow.

"Bella."

"Hey."

"Are you staying?"

"As long as you want me," I grinned, and he grabbed hold of my wrist, using it to pull himself upwards, bit by bit. When he stopped, I leaned over, slid onto the bed, and curled into his side, pressing my head into the crevice of his neck and raising his right arm to fit around my shoulders.

"Forever, then," he muttered, stirring the hair at the crown of my head.

The beating of his heart thudded, solid against my ear.

I can only hope.

"So, how was work?" The words rumbled beneath me. "I'm glad you got off early again today."

The attempt at inane conversation nearly choked me. I couldn't make small talk when I was faced with the most difficult conversation of both of our lives. Instead, I was quiet, unsure; my chest felt heavier than a pound of lead sinking to the bottom of the sea.

How do you even … start?

"Bella?" His firm finger found my chin; light pressure lifted my eyes to his. The shift in emotion was instantaneous – anger replaced any calm. "What's wrong?"

He could see it in my face … the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty. Not everything was right in Tinsel town. Oh, hell, who was I kidding - nothing was right about any of this.

I couldn't bring myself to lie to him.

"Um, Carlisle, Esme, and I – we were talking…" I trailed off and tucked my head further beneath his chin.

"Okay?" His arm tightened around me, fingertips ghosting across my shoulder, up my neck. "About what?" He paused, but I didn't fill the silence. "Bella, just talking isn't enough to make you this upset." He tugged at the lock of hair entwined in his fingers. "What happened?"

He was too fucking perceptive. I had let him too far in to go back now.

"I can't –" my words were hoarse, drawn out. I stopped and cleared my throat, coughing a little. The weight of the world had landed on my chest. One solitary tear slid across the bridge of my nose. "I can't lie to you … not again."

His entire body stilled. I felt it, the lack of movement, the paralyzing fear which ate at him every moment of every day, buried only when he managed to forget that he couldn't remember.

"Again?" he breathed. The word hung in the air.

"Again." I remained, hidden beneath him, unable to see the stillness. "You're going home soon. Two days." I swallowed. Christmas had passed, forgotten. New Year's Eve was tomorrow. "Can I tell you … Edward?" He flinched at the name. I pressed on. "Can I tell you who you are?"

The silence sank me. I waited, nearly trembling, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath me, an elongated, reddened oval still a giddy pink not six inches from my fingertips, hidden beneath a layer of bandage and gown. I had come so close to losing him.

"Okay."

Barely audible, but I heard, and I hoped. I wouldn't lose him again.

"You were seventeen the first time I lost you."

His body was still, but his hand began to move against my arm, rhythmic.

"You lived with me, in Forks, Washington. You moved there when you were nine, with your father and your stepmother, and we met in school." I couldn't prevent the tears, but they didn't hinder me. Once the river began to flow, there would be no stopping the flood. "You, me, and … Emmett. We were best friends. We did everything together." I chuckled through the pain. "There wasn't an hour that our parents could separate us … even when Emmett was in the hospital. You and I snuck over on your bike."

"Emmett was in the hospital?"

His voice surprised me. I pulled my body backwards to look at him. He was … hungry. A faint yearning lined his features; he was adorable, staring at me like I was the oasis of life for a parched man wandering in a desert of insufficiency.

"Yeah. One of the bullies at school broke his femur in a football game." I snickered a little. "Don't worry … we paid him back." Edward's eyebrow rose, but he didn't ask. "Anyhow … Emmett went off to college. And you … it was your Senior year of high school. I was so scared of you leaving, of loosing you for good. And then, right as the school year started, your grandma … she died."

Edward made a small noise in the back of his throat before he laid his head back on the pillow, his hand pressing my head back into the crook of his neck.

"I think … I remember her." I felt him frown. "A little."

I nodded beneath him.

"She raised you when you were younger … your parents had gone through a pretty nasty divorce when you were about five. Your grandmother kept you through the worst of it. After your dad won custody, your mom just … disappeared." I snuggled further into his embrace, reaching back to entwine my hand with his.

"I don't even know what her name was. You hated talking about her. I asked you once, after my dad –" my voice broke, and I cleared my throat. "After my dad died."

I swallowed. I nearly collapsed.

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

And he held me. His left arm fell across my body and I felt him turn, snuggling me into him. His hand brushed against my lower back. I nearly sobbed. I hadn't been held … since the night my father had died. And it had been by the same person.

As soon as I could, I pulled myself together, a sniffling, wet-cheeked mess. Falling apart over the past was not the goal I had in mind.

"You went to her." I spluttered the words; it was all I could do to force them out coherently. If I didn't simply keep going, I would never move forward. "You flew out of the Sea-Tac airport to go to her funeral in Savannah at 11:35 am, on September 30, 2001. And that was the last time I saw your face … for a full nine years. Delta flight 1220 crash landed outside of Atlanta, Georgia at 10:27 pm, Eastern Time.

"Edward," my voice cracked on his name. I craned my neck backwards and carefully yanked my wedged arm from between our enmeshed bodies. My fingertips found the scar which cut across the bridge of his nose, small yet defined. I traced the line with the pad of my thumb.

"You died."

Everything stopped. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn the entire world ceased to turn in that moment. A single drop of rain pinged against the glass behind us, shattering the silence. His face was stony, still, and stared at me intently. I let my thumb fall to the small nick of a scar below his jaw line, and then brought my fingertip to his lips.

"We buried you." The words were hesitant, suspended in air, almost as unbelievable as the truth and lies waiting behind them. "There was a coffin, a body … your father identified it as you. The funeral was closed casket. I was so angry … I couldn't see you, or hold you, or know. I didn't believe them … not until you didn't come back.

Where else could you have been but in the ground? It was the only way you wouldn't have come back to find me. I wanted to join you. I wanted to die, right there, and sink into the dirt over your grave. I can still see the headstone … your name, chiseled in, so clear. It was all I could do not to join you that day."

My eyes watered.

"Emmett pulled me back. He wouldn't let me go; he refused. My mom … well, she gave up months ago, but Emmett … I mean too much to him. He couldn't lose me too, so he brought me back … but I wasn't Izzy anymore." I held his gaze. He was unreadable. "I would only be Izzy … for you."

A slow, solitary tear slid down his face.

"Go on. Please."

My heart fluttered in my chest, nearly vaulting outwards as I remembered that day.

"Six months ago … I moved to Atlanta. Alice – she knew me, from school, so I lived with her. She took me to meet – h – her," I stuttered, unsure. I licked my dry, chapped, nearly peeling lips. "Her best friend's fiancé." Our eyes never wavered. "You."

"I nearly collapsed when I saw you, and it took me so long … to believe myself, to figure it out. But I knew … something wasn't right. So finally," I swallowed, remembering that night, "I confronted Esme. She confirmed everything. You lived. You had been in a plane crash, and Carlisle found you, but no one knew who you were – not even you. So they took you home and adop–," my voice cracked on the word which felt like – no, which was –a lie. I cleared my throat. "Adopted you."

He snorted softly, still fixed on my face.

"So this is familiar territory." His scarred eyebrow rose, sideways and slightly scrunched up.

I was doused with confusion.

"Familiar … what? Oh."

Shit. He thinks they would've told him …

His brows drew together. Instinct drove my thumb to them, smoothing them apart.

"They never told you, Edward. They let you … believe - the lies."

Lines creased his forehead, regardless of my fingers. He pulled away, eyes shut.

"No … no, they wouldn't … they – they care about me! I've seen it – seen them, here, now. They – Bella …"

He nearly whimpered my name; his fists trembled, his chest heavy and shaken.

I slid my legs to the side and pushed my arms around his head, pulling it to my chest.

"They do … they love you, Edward. But they … they made a mistake. A really, really awful mistake." My hands slid through his re-emerging locks while he shuddered. "But they love you … Carlisle and Esme … they did, and they still do."

Immediately, he began to shake his head, nearly catching my shoulder in his vehemence.

"No. They – then why aren't they here?" He gulped air in sharp, hollow breaths. Everything fell through to anger. "Why the fuck aren't they here, telling me themselves? Apologizing?"

I was silent. I didn't know, couldn't tell him that myself. One day … he would learn to forgive them, to accept.

I hoped.

Hot, thick tears, few but heavy, wet the front of my shirt. I shifted, supporting his weight and fingering the downy fluff that had once been a full head of unruly hair.

"Because they're afraid ... like I was."

I wasn't even sure he heard me. I didn't care.

Moments passed, and I didn't care. If anyone had come into his room and asked me to leave him, they'd have wound up in the hospital bed a door over. His head rested on my chest, and I ran my hands through his short locks so many times, I lost the feeling in the tips of my fingers.

Still, I didn't care.

I don't know if it was hours, or minutes, or even seconds before his voice broke the silence, but the sound that passed through his lips was the most painfully broken thing I've heard to this day.

"What now?"

His throat was scratched dry, and I leaned over to grab the plastic cup of melted ice from beside his bed, pressing it to his lips.

"I don't know. I guess … now, you make a choice."

He pushed the water away and licked his lips. I closed my eyes.

"You're going home in two days … in two days is when your life begins. Again." He shifted against me, moving back towards the hospital bed, pulling away. "You just have to decide … which life you want to go back to. Trevor's … or Edward's."

The truth … or the lies.

My fingers found his hand. He retracted it by mere inches. It stung.

He had never pulled away before, as Trevor or Edward.

"I will be here … whatever you decide." It was little more than a whisper, but it was all I could manage. "Whoever you want to be … I can't leave you again. I – I promise."

"I need some time … please." His words nearly tumbled out on top of mine.

I couldn't say my heart didn't fight against leaving him. My breathing shortened quickly before I could smooth it out. It was only logical to ask for space … he wasn't rejecting me – yet.

"Okay," I nodded, carefully disentangling myself from his limbs and the few remaining wires. "I – um – I need to go see Alice, anyhow." My smile was weak, watery. He looked through me, eyes fixed on the city life below the wide glass pane. I nearly broke again at the absolute despondency in that gaze. "Just," I sniffed once, "call me if you need me." I patted my coat pocket. "I've got my phone."

I moved from the room.

He never said a word.