AN: Wow. Really. Wow. I cannot believe that we are finally at the end of TDIG. I want to thank EVERYONE who has ever read or reviewed--I would have written this anyway, but your support has been unbelievably amazing. Also, to my girls at the Twilighted Forum: Angel, Debussy-this, jdsk, Starshinedown, CallistoLexx, pwtf, mommyofboth, devadasi7. . .I am sure I have missed someone but really, thank you all for your support. I couldn't have done it without you.

Yes, this is the LAST chapter of TDIG, but there will be a series of epilogues that will take place anywhere from a few months to a few years after the story ends. They won't get posted for awhile. But they will get posted, I promise.

Also, my new story, tentatively called "Eve, the Apple of my Eye" won't get posted for awhile either. I am going to try to finish up Going for the Gold with Tamelaine first. My plate is too full to start another full story right now.

For the last time *tear* thanks to my betas, Tamelaine & CallistoLexx and PLEASE listen to the song on my profile that's in this chapter. It's by the Pogues and it's called "Love You 'Til the End."

BPOV

"Bella, you need to come with us. Get out of the house," Alice chastised, as I sat on my bed, staring into space, pointedly ignoring her. I'd been trying to perfect the art of not thinking at all over the last few weeks, and so far, I'd been finding it a difficult if not impossible undertaking.

I'd seen Edward's shoulders shrug a million times in my mind, and not once did it get easier to see. In fact, each time, I felt my heart crack a little more. Four weeks after the shrug, it now resembled a small crater.

When Alice had been gone, Rose and I had kept to ourselves, not talking, not doing anything but going to work and coming back home again, only to sit in our lonely rooms and spend the long, sleepless night trying to figure out how our lives had fallen apart so fast.

But then Edward had come to our house, to tell Rose about his role in the high school debacle, and to my amazement and shock, she'd gone to Emmett and somehow they had made up. That had been difficult for me, though I was trying to be thrilled that she was so happy.

Then Alice had come home, brimming with love and happiness, and I'd almost considered putting a lock on my door so that everyone would just leave me alone and I wouldn't have to hear about how fucking happy everyone was. Everyone but me.

I told myself that there was nothing that Edward could say that would make up for the shoulder shrug, but a tiny part inside me wanted him to try anyway. Either so that he could fail and feel maybe half as humiliated and heartsick as me or maybe so that I could have hope and faith and trust in him again, if he managed to succeed against all odds.

"Bella, please," Alice pleaded and I continued to ignore her.

"Just look at you," she continued, clearly not averse to conversing with herself. "You haven't showered, your hair's greasy and you're unbelievably pale and I haven't seen you out of sweatpants for days."

I couldn't let that go unanswered. "And how is that any different than you running away?" I asked her in a dull, numb voice.

Alice paused in her quest for clothes in my closet, and turned towards me. "Bella," she said hesitantly, "you have every right to be upset."

"Do I?" I snapped at her. "Then why are you in here, pestering me?"

She sighed. "I wanted to tell you—I wasn't right to run away."

"You were," I insisted. "You're just saying that because it worked out for the best in the end. You learned to trust Jasper because he was so persistent in chasing after you."

"You're wrong," Alice said, pulling a red silky tank out of my closet after much deliberation. I couldn't see why she was even bothering. Nobody was going to drag me off this bed—even Alice with her patented guilt-induced persuasion techniques.

"No. I'm not," I argued, wondering if she would call me on my obvious bitter vendetta against all men, all relationships and any feelings that weren't abject despair. That particular emotion I'd embraced fully. Of course, it wasn't as if I'd had any choice in the matter.

There was a knock on the door and Alice yelled out, "come in," before I could tell whoever it was to go to hell.

I glared at Alice, and then at Rosalie, who closed the door behind her.

"Is she coming?" Rose asked, clearly deciding that it was better to just deal with Alice and ignore me altogether.

"Yes," Alice said and I opened my mouth to argue, but she shot me a look that told me it was pointless. And I was beginning to think, maybe it was.

"She may not know it," Alice added pointedly, "but she's going. It's what's good for her."

"I certainly know what's good for me," I growled. "And I'm not going."

"Really, you are," Rose said, her tone of voice telling me that she wouldn't tolerate a single argument.

"Where are we even going?" I whined. "I don't want to see anyone."

Rosalie gave me a head to toe look. "If I looked like that, I wouldn't want to either."

I stuck my tongue out at her, but really, the tough love was better than treating me like I was an easily broken piece of porcelain.

"Fine," I grumbled, "I'll go get in the shower."

"Thank god," Alice breathed in relief. "Go go go. Before we have to smell you any longer."

Ten minutes later, when I opened the door back into my room, wrapped up in a towel, Alice looked at me expectantly.

"Fine," I sighed with exaggeration. "I do feel better."

"I thought so," she said, not even trying to hide her 'I told you so' tone. "You're coming with us."

"Are you going alone?" I didn't want to have to spell it out to Alice, but there was no way I was going to be a fifth wheel on some double date. I was pretty sure she and Rosalie wouldn't do that to me, but I definitely wasn't going to take the chance.

"It's just going to be us three," she said, "and it'll be real fun. The three of us haven't been together in ages."

I decided that I might as well take advantage of this opportunity to spend time with my two best friends and maybe snap out of my moping depression for a few hours. Maybe it wouldn't be horrible to get out, after all.

"Fine, I'll go."

"Of course you will." Alice smiled. "Clothes are on your bed. Blow dry your hair and we can go." She skipped out of the room with a self-satisfied smile on her face and I almost worked up enough humor to laugh. Almost.

An hour later, we were standing around the bar, holding cold beers—Alice looking at hers with distaste, since apparently this bar didn't serve wine or hard alcohol, just beer, and I had to ask the question that had been bothering me since we'd gotten here.

"A gaming arcade?" I asked Alice, not managing to conceal my impatience—this was the place we had to come to? This was what they'd dragged me out of my own self-pitying misery for?

"Trust me. This place is great. And oh look! They're going to be playing Rock Band tonight!"

I rolled my eyes. "That is the dumbest game ever, Alice. It lets people who can't play real instruments fake it on plastic ones."

"But it's fun!" Alice said, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"Why do I have a feeling that I'll be up there playing it by the end of the evening?" Rose asked in a bored voice, gesturing towards the stage.

I'd had my back turned and I'd deliberately not looked toward the stage. The idea of getting up there and drawing attention to myself, real instruments or not, seemed abhorrent considering the state I was in.

I turned towards the stage briefly and almost dropped my beer. Edward was on the stage, and I heard Rosalie barely manage to suppress a chuckle at my shock. She'd known he was there, and she'd pointed to the stage so that I would look and see him too. I felt panic and pain and a whole host of other, unnamed emotions rise in my chest, and I knew I had to get out of there before I fell apart.

"Alice!" I hissed. "You are such a liar. I am leaving right now."

She grabbed my arm and held me in place. "You're not going anywhere. I practically had to physically drag you out of the apartment. You are staying. And listening."

"Listening? I am not listening to anything he has to say," I said angrily, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that were drifting down my cheeks. I felt betrayed—not only by Edward, but by my best friends.

"You should really listen to him, sweetheart," Rosalie added, and her voice was unnaturally kind. I almost hated her sympathy more than her impatience with my misery.

"Please," Alice begged. "I've talked to him, and before you flip out that I did—he totally cornered me and pleaded with me. And when I heard him out, I knew you had to hear what he had to say."

This was even worse than I'd imagined. I'd been kidnapped, totally unknowingly, and taken to a place where my ex-lover was going to try to talk to me. In public.

"I'm still leaving," I told her bitterly. "I don't even know what to say to you." I turned away from Alice and Rosalie and tried to look anywhere but at the stage where Edward was standing.

Of course, I failed in the first ten seconds. I had to see what he looked like and what he was doing and was he looking at me? Yeah, he definitely was.

He was standing on the small corner stage, clearly tuning a real guitar and I wondered if he knew how to play and just hadn't told me or he was pretending in an effort to look cool.

The latter, I decided, though I had to admit I wouldn't have been surprised if there were more secrets he'd kept from me.

He looked up and our eyes met, across the room, and I felt that same flash of fire and heat and emotion, but I forced myself to look away. He wasn't for me. It didn't matter how much I wanted him to be, I just couldn't commit to someone who could treat me so callously.

"Bella," Rose said quietly, and I noticed she and Alice were standing on either side of me. "I want you to promise me that you'll at least try to listen with an open mind."

"And an open heart," Alice added, ever the romantic.

"Fine," I grumbled. "I really don't want to, but I have a feeling if I try to leave, both of you will physically drag me back in here, so I suppose I might as well stay." I looked at the floor and hoped it would be over soon and that Edward wouldn't do anything stupid like try to sing to me.

Of course, the moment the thought passed through my undeniably jaded mind, the PA system crackled and scratched and Edward walked up to the microphone. I tried to look away, but I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"This song," Edward said, casually draping his hands over his guitar like he did it all the time, "is for Bella." He looked straight at me, and panic rose hard and fast in my throat. I couldn't stand here and listen to what he thought of me—the idea was stomach-twisting and nauseating. And really, no matter what he said, how could I believe him anyway?

It seemed that Edward played the guitar very well, and even through my outrage at yet another thing he'd neglected to mention about himself, I recognized the opening chords right away.

Of course. He would have remembered what I'd said about Irish punk and the Pogues, and even though this was probably one of my favorite songs ever, all I wanted to do was go into a corner and cry my eyes out. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

I just want to see you when you're all alone; I just want to catch you if I can.

I just want be there when the morning light explodes: on your face it radiates.

I can't escape, I love you 'til the end.

His voice was just as husky and beautiful as I remembered, except that I wasn't prepared for what I'd feel when he sang, even in the song, that he loved me. The lump in my throat grew, and desperately, I tried to hold the threatening tears back. It was too hard to stand here and listen to something I knew was patently untrue.

I just want to tell you nothing you don't want to hear.

All I want is for you to say: why don't you just take me where I've never been before.

I know you want to hear me catch my breath. I love you 'til the end.

His voice cracked on the last word, and I could see nerves and utter panic warring on his face. I couldn't help but think that the song seemed genuine, and that he certainly seemed desperate enough for me—desperate enough to get on stage in front of at least a hundred people and sing of his love for me.

I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe in this seemingly genuine, heartfelt expression of emotion, but I didn't know how. Maybe things were too far gone between us.

His voice grew harder, as if he could maybe convince me through sheer will.

I just want to be there when we're caught in the rain.

I just want to see you laugh, not cry.

I just want to feel you when the night puts on its cloak.

I've lost the words; don't tell me. Cause all I can say is I love 'til the end.

The last chord echoed through the empty bar, and the crowd erupted into applause, but I couldn't hear it. I'd already heard too much.

In the swell of people moving towards the stage, no doubt to praise both Edward's musicianship but also his brass balls in singing a love letter to the girl he'd already destroyed, I managed to extract myself from Alice and Rosalie and make it to the door.

I put my hand on the handle, and I was just about to pull it open when another hand closed over mine.

I looked up into a pair of deep green eyes.

"You're going?" he asked, and there was bitter disillusionment in it. Like he'd just lost something of incalculable price.

"Why now?" I demanded, ignoring his question, and asking the ones I desperately needed to know instead. "Why didn't you tell me you loved me before? And why did you wait four weeks to tell me?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I haven't always been the good guy, Bella. I've done some things I'm not proud of, and I felt that to even begin to deserve a molecule of you, I had to do what I could to fix them."

"Alice and Rosalie," I stated rather than asked. His hand was still gripped over mine on the door handle, and I knew we were frozen in time and space until either he convinced me he was for real or I managed to convince him that it was useless to keep trying.

I really hoped that the stubborn streak I'd seen in him wasn't one of his many lies.

"Yes," he said, then just stood there, waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know what to say. Should I thank him for doing what he could to fix what was wrong with Alice and Jasper and Emmett and Rosalie? Should I thank him for putting together such a brilliant, amazing gesture of love? Or should I just leave?

"Edward," I stammered finally. "You said you didn't love me."

"No, actually, I didn't say anything at all, and you, well, you interpreted it as a no. But really, that isn't your fault. I just couldn't say it. There's probably some deep psychological reason why, but when you asked, I just froze. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't get it out."

His explanation, I had to admit, made a lot of sense and went a long way to repairing that big deep crater in my heart. At least, I could stop replaying that shrug in my mind a million times a day.

"Bella," Edward continued, carefully removing my hand from the door and covering it with his. "I love you. I know I couldn't say it before, and maybe that means you hate me for all time. But I want you so I had to ask today. If you say no today—that's okay, but you have to know: I want you enough to ask a million times."

The tears were openly trickling down my cheeks now, and he reached one hand up to brush a teardrop away. "Please," he said simply.

And in that moment, I knew what Edward had been talking about. Every fiber and every muscle and bone in my body was screaming out that I loved him too, and that I didn't want him to get away—that I wanted to be with him forever. But I couldn't get the words past my numb and still angry lips.

Edward looked deep in my eyes and must have seen the panic of me unable to say what I wanted to, and misinterpreted it as rejection. His face fell and he dropped my hand like it was burning him. He began to turn away, and the panic swelled inside me.

"No," I exclaimed, a lot louder than I'd meant to. "Edward. Wait."

He turned back and I could see that a speck of hope had returned.

"I love you too," I managed to gasp out, but before I even had the sentence halfway out, I was in his arms and he was kissing me so hard that I couldn't say a single thing, and really, I didn't want to.

We'd already said everything that needed to be said.