Pennames: realgirl-imaginarylife/gimmenothing (twilighted)

A/N:

Hello, and thank you all, again…the supporters of this story are awesome. Nub to you all.

Special thanks to my amazing betas, Batgirl8968 and Tiffanyanne3, who not only work so hard (and fast!) to fix all of my many comma and dialogue issues, but who also take the time and energy from their own lives to help me become a better writer, one chapter at a time. So lucky to have you.

Song for this chapter is Help! by The Beatles. And I think our poor Edward means this quite literally.

E & B, not mine. Just Dot & Spec.

Previously on...Little Slugger

"Hey...you guys." She cleared her parched throat and shook her head a bit. "Has anyone seen Edward?" She was feeling slightly panicked, and was worried she might sound like a lunatic.

Lauren smirked and giggled under her breath as she turned away and pretended to fuss with the coffee maker.

Peter, wearing his signature skinny black and white diagonal striped tie, took a long sip from his company coffee cup and raised one eyebrow as he shot her an ironic smile. "Edward quit."

5 – The Glass Slipper

Bella blanched. And that is saying a lot for a girl whose complexion already necessitated the "Casper" shade of face powder.

"Quit? What do you mean, he quit?" she asked madly, bringing her fingertips to her temples, trying to stay calm. Peter and Lauren both stared at her cautiously, as if in fear that she might just combust right there in the workroom.

"I mean," Peter leaned down toward her trembling body and looked in her eyes, speaking to her with slow certainty, the way a preschool teacher might speak to his 3 year-old pupil. "That Edward quit. He no longer works here. He showed up at 2:30 this morning, waving a pile of cash in the security guard's face and demanding to be let upstairs so he could clean out his desk and leave a resignation letter under Alec's door. Said he was leaving town."

He leaned back and shrugged. "Apparently he doesn't wanna share his pretty songs with us. It's a shame, really. I heard he wasn't half-bad. I always knew there was more to that guy than meets the eye. No one's really that boring."

Bella's eyes blazed fire as she stomped her foot fiercely and balled her hands into fists.

"You don't know anything!" she spat, and turned tail back to her desk, her long, dark hair having the last word as it sailed like an air-dried sheet after her.

Peter turned to Lauren, who was biting back a shocked giggle. "You think I'm better looking than Edward, right?"

Edward had run as far as he could go.

Gasping for air, he weakly grasped for the solid cornerstone of the nearest building and ducked into an alleyway, easing himself to the ground to rest. His guitar rang out as it hit the asphalt after him, sounding like the last midnight chime of a demonically possessed grandfather clock. It echoed down the channel, ringing in his ears as he breathed deeply, suddenly hyperaware of his intense thirst with nothing to quench it.

His throat was raw and scorching, his head pounding from the inside out, and his ass was freezing through his jeans on a filthy concrete slab in a New York City alley. Perfect. He had led himself here, to this terrible place. To this terrible moment. Years of hiding and shaming and pretending and avoiding had led him here.

And it seemed just about right.

He sat there shivering for what could have been hours, he didn't know. He strummed his guitar quietly, gently, with his numb, icy fingers, and remembered back to the first regrettable moment that had been the beginning of this feeble journey. Then the second. And the third. He replayed the parade of anguish in his head, one after the other, until he arrived full circle back to the cold, hard, miserable perch of the present.

At first he had cried out loud, sobbing and rocking to the beat of the sad tune he played. Gradually, the tears ceased and dried and left him softly sniffing into the deserted darkness as passersby walked without notice or care.

Boy was overdue for a good cry.

It was sometime afterward, when his frosty steam-cloud breaths regained their regularity, and the moon had moved high up into the sky, that he realized he was done.

He felt...okay. Exhausted. Endured. Exorcised.

But when it came to his most recent regrettable action, he felt embarrassed.

He'd ignored Isabella, purposefully avoided her, blatantly disregarded her, and yet everywhere he turned, whether in his own mind or in the real world, *poof*, she appeared. He was agonized when he recalled the sheer reverence he'd seen in her eyes when she'd seen him up on that stage. Reverence for him, as if such a thing were even possible.

And he knew exactly the last time someone had looked at him that way.

The memory of her friendly yet intense, familiar stare made him reach to the ground and grab a jagged hunk of loose asphalt at his side, chucking it at the brick wall across from him. It shattered and scattered through the alley, pebbles rolling back toward his outstretched feet.

She doesn't know anything about me, he thought crisply. He was as saddened by it as he was certain of it.

Suddenly motivated, he eased himself up with his palms, his body sore and stiff and complaining as it tried to remember how to stand. He brushed himself off, blew warm air into his chilled hands, and headed towards home.

She knew nothing. Now it was time to ensure that she never would.

It was ridiculously late by the time he arrived at the office, and at the last minute he considered waiting until morning to try and get inside. But the idea of coming in early to take care of the few bits of necessary business wasn't sitting well with him. The chances of running into a coworker, if not the coworker, were too good in that scenario and he decided it wasn't worth the risk. This break had to be clean.

He also hoped that the rolling out of the inevitable office gossip story about the weird guy showing up in the middle of the night to quit might convince her that trying to find him was not a good idea. He wasn't sure, but based on the way she had looked at him tonight, he worried she might consider it otherwise.

He could not want to see her. And he could not have her wanting to see him.

He set his quivering chin, and forced himself to believe it. To mean it. The big cry was over, but his emotions were still running raw. He had to get this over with before he changed his mind and made an even bigger mess of things.

The streets at this hour were quiet in a way that was unfamiliar. Each step sounded fresh with individuality as if he were alone in the city, unaware of the sleeping millions around him. The solitude gave him strength.

He arrived at the familiar revolving doors shortly before two-thirty A.M., thankful as he looked through the glass to see the security guard sitting at his post behind the main reception desk. He was reading a large black paperback with a picture of a frayed red ribbon swirling across it. He looked involved, but Edward was glad he was there at all. He hadn't yet formulated a viable plan B if he was unable to access the building the easy way.

Edward took a deep breath and banged his fist on the hard glass. He felt self-conscious about the noise it created outside and something about the feeling made him wish for a transport pod, or a time machine, or whatever would instantly lift him from here to home, safe and sound with his cats purring on his chest. The guard didn't look up. He banged again, this time with added force. Again, the guard didn't look up, but he did lift his right pointer finger in the air as if to say "Gimme one second."

Edward glared at him incredulously. Was that joker serious? He could be anyone out here on the city streets in the middle of the freaking night, banging on the door of a building he's responsible for, potentially in trouble, and the guy can't so much as look up from his goddamned book?

Well, he could say one thing - the man's obvious negligence bode well for what he was about to ask of him.

Finally, reluctantly, the middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair marked his spot by turning the book over on the desk, making a tent with it. He grabbed his official-looking blue brimmed hat and placed it on his head as he walked towards the door.

Edward hugged his arms around his torso and raised his shoulders, attempting to appear shivering and pathetic. Or even more shivering and pathetic then he already was. He held his employee identification card in his fist.

The guard eyed Edward cautiously as he pulled a key from collection on his belt, and opened the door to the left of the revolving door. He opened it a few inches with his left hand, and stealthily moved his right hand to his holster.

"What can I help you with, son?" he asked. Edward flinched.

He held up the employee card like a little white flag.

"Good evening, Sir. I'm really sorry to come by so late. My name is Edward Masen, and I'm an employee in the Censure Department at Vitamin Direct. I've had a family emergency and I need to leave town immediately. I was hoping you might be able to help me get some things from my desk and leave a note for my boss?" He growled at himself internally. He hated lying.

Edward stiffened as the guard looked him up and down. "And you're sure this can't wait until the morning? I'm really not supposed to let anyone in the building right now, and I think you know that."

"I do know, Sir. I assure you, I wouldn't ask you to do this if I had any other choice." At least here he spoke the truth.

"Well, you can write a note here, and I can leave it for your boss at the desk, but I cannot let you upstairs. Them's the rules." He had relaxed his shooting hand and was now leaning in the doorway with his hand on his hip, relaxed.

Edward could feel the panic igniting inside him. There was only one reason why he needed to get up to his office tonight, and it wasn't to leave a note under his boss's door. Moisture veiled his eyes as he began to plead.

"Please," he begged quietly. "Please. I've had a very difficult night, and I really need to get out of here. But there is something in my desk that I need, and I cannot leave without it. Please, can you just help me out here?"

Falsehoods were no longer a part of this equation. The need, the tale and the emotions were undeniable. The security officer softened in response, but did not buckle.

"Well, maybe I could go up and get it for you," he offered.

"NO!"

His response surprised both of them. Edward brought his hands to his hair and began walking in small circles in front of the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just feeling a little bit...desperate right now, and...my office, it's...it's a mess, really disorganized. There's no way you could find it and..." he drifted off, stopping again in front of the door and looking the guard in the eye. Without breaking his pleading stare, he reached inside his coat and grabbed something from the breast pocket.

The guard's right hand moved immediately back to his gun, ready to defend himself.

Edward extracted his hand, and between his fingers was a wad of cash. The outside bill was a twenty. If the others inside matched, it was at least two hundred dollars. His hand and chin quivered as he held out the folded pile towards the open door.

"Please."

The guard closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, his shoulders slumped. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with pity and defeat.

"Jeeze, son, keep your money. Something tells me you're going to need it." He opened the door wide enough for Edward to enter. "Come inside. I'll take you up there."

Edward paused a moment, and slid through the small opening, standing artlessly nearby as the guard relocked the door. "God help me if I lose my job over this," he muttered under his breath, less to Edward and more to the heavens.

"Thank you. Honestly, sir. Thank you so much, I...I don't know..."

The guard turned around and looked him square in the face. "Don't say anything else, kid. Let's just get you what you need and get you on your way." Edward gave him a single humble nod and shuffled toward he elevator, his shamed eyes locked to the floor.

During the awkward six-story flight up, each miniscule sound the elevator made was heightened to a roar as the two silent men stared at the glowing circles above their heads.

ding.

Edward was beginning to feel anxious about getting out of there. The sooner he got his ass out of this building, the sooner he could reevaluate and start over. Maybe he really would get out of town. Maybe he could even go and see if...

ding.

He was getting ahead of himself. First, close this strange chapter, then new beginning.

ding. The double doors slid open.

He looked with uncertainty to the guard, who nodded for him to go ahead. Edward led the way through the corporate mouse maze to his cubicle. On the way, he realized that he would soon be caught in a lie.

The guard shot him a knowing look as they arrived at his space. It was spotless. Edward ignored him and avoided eye contact as he went straight to work, pulling out his trash can and running his arm across the entire desk, and all of his office supplies avalanched into the empty plastic bag. He neatly placed his phone next to the computer keyboard, and then opened the drawer containing the only reason he was there.

He felt a surging wave of relief as he saw it sitting there, as if it might have somehow disappeared before he could get to it. Keeping it at work at all had been a very recent mistake - further proof that he was failing in his attention to detail.

He cracked open the black leather journal from the back and tore out an empty page, snatched a pen from the trash can and quickly scribbled a note of apology and half-explanation to his boss Alec. He folded it in half and stored the book protectively under his arm.

"I'm all set, Sir, thank you again, I really appreciate it," he leaned in toward him, glancing at his nametag, "Felix." He stood up straight and looked at him directly. "Thank you, Felix. You are a good man. You honored me with a great favor tonight, and I'm forever thankful to you." He held out his hand to him.

Felix seemed thoughtful for a moment as he appraised the gesture. Eventually, he reached out and met Edward's hand, shaking it surely.

"Whatever you've got yourself wrapped up in, son, I hope that things work out for you. You seem like a good kid. As a return to the favor, don't screw that up, okay? I was a young man myself once, and I have a little boy at home. Maybe I understand better than you think. I just hope that whatever's brought you here tonight is leading you down the good path."

Edward's eyes, for the third time in one night, threatened tears. "Thank you. I hope so too."

The air in the elevator on the ride back down to the lobby was lighter the second time around, though both men were again silent as they moved downward.

As they passed by the reception desk again, Edward again took notice of the book sitting on the desk.

"Good book?" he asked, gesturing towards it. He was smiling, feeling free already of the many shackles he'd just cut loose.

Felix's cheeks burned in two nearly perfect circles of pink. "Yeah," he said. "It really is."

"I have never seen you so worked up over a guy before." Rosalie smiled as she shot Bella a loaded look, and drizzled dressing over her Caesar salad.

Bella fidgeted with the linen napkin on her lap, biting the inside of her cheek and unsure of how to explain.

"It's less to do with the fact that he's a guy, I think...and more about just how oddly mysterious the whole thing is," she began. "You know me, I'm a curious girl. At first, I just assumed that he was a weird, elusive prick. But something about it didn't add up. He's just clearly too...complex...to be just a jerk, you know? And then seeing him on that stage the other night...God! He was incredible, it was like...otherworldly!" She combed her hair back with her fingers and held the makeshift two pigtails in place for a moment, lost in the memory of it.

Rosalie raised her eyebrows twice quickly in response while she chewed on a bite of salad. Her eyes implored for more.

"I'm serious, Rose. Can you imagine it? This totally quiet...no, scratch that, not quiet, silent. This totally silent, shy, strange, unsure person suddenly becoming the exact opposite of himself, just like magic. He literally had the entire room sheltered all snug right in the palm of his hand," she sighed, frowning down at the curled up palm she'd subconsciously presented as example. "And then what does he do? He runs off like Cinderella psychopath the moment he catches my eye - tell me that wouldn't completely agitate you!"

Rose paused a moment with her fork in mid-flight, thoughtfully glancing across the restaurant and out the window to the busy street. Bella knew that look. Rosalie wasn't looking for someone, or thinking about something else. This is what she did when she wanted to bide time so the person she was speaking to could come to their own conclusion before she laid down her hand, always a full house made up of sharp truths and sordid realities.

She scrunched up her nose and turned back to Bella decidedly.

"Nah, too weird. I don't really like 'em weird," she said, and her mouth lifted into a knowing yet loving smile.

Bella scowled in response.

"Well...maybe I do," she mumbled weakly.

"I know you do, baby. That's why you're gonna go find him." She shot her a wink and sipped her iced tea, leaving a scarlet lipstick print behind on the clear plastic straw.

"Rose! I am NOT going to go hunting for the poor guy! He has made it more than abundantly clear on more than one occasion that he does not want to know or talk to me. Seriously, the guy quit his job and potentially skipped town just to avoid a confrontation! He. Does. Not. Want. To. See. Me."

Rosalie sighed and shook her head slowly as she looked to the window again; her clear blue eyes were elsewhere. She toyed with the clip that held her head of platinum waves up in a loose bun. After a long while, she looked back to Bella, her face serious, but affectionate.

"Isabella Marie Swan, you of all people in this world should know that nothing, no matter how it may look from the outside, is ever that simple."

Bella stared down her untouched club sandwich. As always, Rosalie was right.

"So," she broke off a piece of rogue bacon and popped it in her mouth, leaning in on her elbows towards Rosalie. "If you were Cinderella, where would your next ball be?"

A/N:

Okay lovlies…if you were Cinderella, what would your coach be made of? Mine would be a big red balloon.

And midnight, *Pop*

:)