A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas.
Scared yet? You're so close. What will you do once you know?
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do however own "White Carpets and Wall Sconces".
Edward's Point of View
She was there, standing in her normal place by the railing, feet clad in ugly boots, standing on the bottom rail looking out over the black water. When Jessica had said she was out, I'd taken my chances, hoping, praying that she'd be there. Knowing that it's where I would have been given my druthers. I thanked whoever was up there, that I was right. I stood behind her, just staring, a bit like a crazy person, taking in the curve of her legs, the hunch of her shoulders, the way the wind blew the ends of her wavy, dark hair.
I wanted to run to her, and scoop her up, and swing her around and kiss her until we couldn't breathe. But I didn't. Because I didn't deserve that. I owed her an apology and an explanation and I owed it to her now. So I announced my presence to her back.
"Extra hot, extra foam, with a dash of nutmeg." I sounded like a damn Starbucks barista, but I didn't care. She turned around and stepped off the railing, taking a step towards me.
"Edward." Her voice was tiny, shocked, but her mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. I extended the coffee to her.
"Bella." My voice came out breathier than I intended it to, but I didn't care.
"How did you find me here?" She was still staring, dumbfounded at me, both hands wrapped around her cup.
I shrugged. "Jessica said you were out. I figured this is where I'd want to be." Her face lit up with a genuine smile and my heart melted. "I missed you." I told her honestly, reaching my free hand out to brush a stray hair from her face and tucking it inside her hat. "And I'm so sorry." My hand lingered on her neck and she leaned into my touch. "You have no idea how sorry I am."
She pursed her lips the way she did when she was thinking. "I'm sorry too," she told me. I shook my head.
"No need. I overreacted."
She just stared at me. The look on her face said that she was curious and confused, and a little bit hurt. I didn't understand why she looked hurt if I'd just apologized. "I'm sorry," I said again and she looked at me expectantly.
"What's going on, Edward?" She backed up until she was leaning against the railing again, and finally took a sip of her coffee.
"Can we talk? Are you okay with that?" I wasn't sure how to gauge her reaction to me. She seemed relieved in a way, but terribly uncertain. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. If I was honest with myself, I was hoping she would throw herself at me and kiss me and forgive me. I could see that there was no way that was going to happen though.
"We can talk," she confirmed, stepping one foot onto the railing behind her and leaning her head over the water.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," I began, knowing that I needed to start with the apology. "I can't believe I spoke to you that way. The piece you tried to play, it is more important that just a piece of sheet music. That's not really an excuse though. It just....when I realized what was happening; it was like my brain shut down. I didn't even really hear what you were playing, I only felt what I was feeling when I wrote it. And I never, ever wanted to feel that way again." I paused for a moment, and I watched her nod slowly, raising her head so she was looking me in the eye once more.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea."
"I know, and I was completely unfair to you. So, Bella, please know that I feel terrible about how I treated you." I took a deep breath. She was still looking at me, eyes wide and searching. Her back was pressed against the railing and I felt myself step closer to her. We looked at each other for a long time. I searched her face for some clue as to what she was thinking at that precise moment, and reached my hand out to tug the braid on her hat playfully. Finally, she spoke. Her voice was quiet, meek, but I could hear an edge to it that I didn't quite recognize.
"There's more isn't there? I know there's more. Everyone seems to know what is going on, except for me. I'm sick of it." She looked down at my feet and I saw her lip was pinched between her teeth, the way she did if she'd done something wrong, or was embarrassed.
"There's more," I replied quietly, lifting her chin with two of my fingers. I was scared. Once Bella knew what I had done, what I had been hiding, I was afraid she wouldn't want anything to do with me. I feared the disgusted expression that would come over her face once she knew about my lack of control, about the monster that lived inside me, that caused me to lose my cool and do terrible things. The episode on Valentines Day was only the beginning, one small piece. But Alice was right, I should never be allowed behind the wheel of a car when I was angry, or maybe even ever.
"Tell me," she commanded. Her voice was hard, but her face was soft, open, willing to listen. She took my hand and squeezed lightly. "Please Edward. Tell me."
I took a deep breath, and concentrated on my hand in hers and her dark eyes. She nodded encouragingly, as though she knew that this was difficult for me, and I opened my mouth. No sound came out. I swallowed hard and tried again.
"I was seventeen," I started. I blinked slowly once and met her loving eyes again. Maybe Jasper was right, maybe she did love me. Inwardly, I smiled at the thought. "I was seventeen, and it was early January. I was dating a girl named Charlotte at the time." I saw her eyes widen at the name and I knew she was making the connection. I gave her a sad smile, to tell her that it was okay, and then I continued my story. "Charlotte and I had been dating since sophomore year in high school. She was wonderful, kind, caring, and beautiful. I experienced most of my firsts with Charlotte, and like every naive teenager, I believed I would experience my lasts with her as well. That's how we were. Inseparable. I loved her. I'll always love her. She was my first true love, and part of me will love her forever.
"Charlotte was a nature freak. She loved to be outdoors, and she hated the city. Her favourite place was a camp ground outside of Chicago. We spent hours there, rain or shine, whether it was freezing cold or blazing hot. Sometimes we walked the trails, exploring like little kids. She would point out different tracks, and we'd both get really into it. We lived in our own, weird little bubble. She was my life; she was all I thought about. All of my decisions were made with her in mind. In the fall of senior year we started looking at colleges. We would go together, that was obvious. These things were taken for granted. Charlotte and I were forever. We'd get married, and start a family, and grow old together. That's how it was supposed to work. Unlike now, the idea of life long commitment didn't scare me then. I knew where I wanted to be, and who I wanted to be with. It was just a matter of time. When you're young, and in love, you think you've got it all figured out." I paused for a moment, realizing that I'd have to get to the important part soon. Bella was still looking at me with the same loving expression in her eyes, her mouth turned down in a tiny frown.
"There was an accident." My chest constricted at the sounds of the words coming out of my mouth. I forced the tears down and tried to dissolve the lump in my throat. Bella squeezed my hand tighter.
"Shh, Edward, it's alright." Her soft voice floated to my ears and I took a shaky breath. She set her barely touched coffee on the ground and set mine beside it. "You can tell me anything," she whispered, taking my other hand in hers and holding it tightly. I felt one, lone tear run down my cheek and under my chin. Nodding slowly I continued.
"We were driving back from the camp ground. We were having an off night, arguing about little things. Her parents were pushing for her to go to Brown, and although we'd both applied, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get in. I mean, it's Brown after all." I shook my head. "We were fighting about other things too. It was dark and we were hungry and we couldn't agree on a place to eat. It was so stupid. I mean, Charlotte and I literally, never fought. We'd had one fight previously but it was cleared up pretty quickly.
We were the quintessential, perfect couple. She completed me, I completed her; we finished each other's sentences. But this night in particular my temper was getting the better of me. We were sitting in the car, and I said that we could figure out where to eat while we drove.
"I was pissed off. Pissed off about Brown; convinced that her parents were trying to separate us. I mean, it's Brown, they only take a limited number of applicants, and Charlotte was a straight A student. I don't think she ever scored less than a ninety on anything. There was a good chance, that her marks, along with her extra curricular resume, would grant her relatively easy access. Me on the other hand, I didn't stand nearly as good a chance. I was convinced that this was a way for them to split us up. Not that they ever showed any interest in that, her parents liked me. I was a good, devoted boyfriend, polite and committed to their daughter. But they wanted the best and they weren't going to let a high school romance stand in the way. And my girlfriend wasn't doing anything about it. She was going along with the plan, happily chatting away about what a nice campus it was, and how she'd always liked Rhode Island."
I shook my head to clear the memory, and looked down at my hands, closed around Bella's. I sighed and continued my story. "I was livid, Bella. We were speeding down the highway, and I was motioning with my hands, not even looking where I was going. For a while, she was begging me to calm down, or pull over. The roads were icy; I was going too fast, the tires on my car were only mediocre. And I continued on my rant. She was quiet, hoping I guess to diffuse my rage. I was overreacting. I know that now, but at the time all I could see was the love of my life leaving me and I couldn't bare it.
"There's a long curve on the highway between the camp ground and the city. It's banked well, but there's a deep ravine on the outside. I had my hands off the wheel when one of the tires hit the patch of ice. I felt the car swerve dangerously and I heard her gasp. I gripped the wheel in my hands and tried to force the car back on the road, but the car kept sliding. I slammed on the brakes and wrenched the car to the left. We started to spin and my brakes locked up. I had no control. I was clinging to the steering wheel, fighting to gain control, but the more I fought, the more we spun, and then I felt the car tip. And I heard her scream. She was screaming, Bella. She'd tried to stay quiet, or else I was too focused to notice, but I remember the scream. Long and pitchy and terrified. I remember hitting the tree at the bottom of the ravine, the crunch of metal against the trunk. And then the screaming stopped. Suddenly it was so quiet I could hear my own heart beat."
It was the first time in years I'd relived that night, the blood curdling scream, the silence. The silence was worse than the screaming. The screaming meant that she was alive, that she was breathing.
"Oh God," Bella whispered, barely intelligible even in the silence between us.
I took a deep breath to continue with the story. "I passed out. I don't know to this day how they found us, but they did, and quickly. We were airlifted to the hospital. I woke up sometime early the next day. I remember it well. My mother was hovering, trying to tidy something in the barren room. That's what Esme does when she's upset, she cleans. 'Edward!' I remember her voice was so relieved, but so tired. I was surprised that I didn't hurt. My injuries were minimal, some bruises and cuts. I didn't even break a god damned bone. I passed out from fucking shock. I was fucking lucky. 'Charlotte.' It was the first word out of my mouth. And I remember the look on my mother's face well. The hope that had been so obvious before was replaced with remorse, every line pointed down. 'Where is she?' I'd asked. If I was okay, she had to be too, right? There was no reason for Esme to look so sad. She told me she was in surgery. I remember shrugging, thinking that surgery wasn't such a big deal. My dad's a surgeon, he performs them everyday, and most of his patients are fine. So she was a bit worse off than me, she'd be okay. She had to be. We had plans, and a future."
Bella's Point of View
I saw where this story was going, and I didn't like it. I pulled him closer to me and brushed one, lone tear from his eye.
He began to speak again, and I did my best to stay calm, gently squeezing his hands in mine in encouragement. "I was allowed out that night, but I didn't leave. I went to see her in critical care. I'd never seen anything like it. Her face was bruised, her body was bandaged. There were tubes and wires sticking out of every bare piece of skin. The monitors around her were quiet and I watched her pulse on the screen for what seemed like hours. It was steady, but slow, very weak. Her parents had gone for dinner, and I sat beside her, trying to find a piece of her to touch that wasn't completely bandaged, or riddled with wires. I had to settle for her fingers. I sat there, stroking her fingers and watching her pulse. I didn't realize when her parents came into the room. I did however look up when my father entered. He looked at me and gave me a tight smile. I knew that smile. That was the 'nothing good is going to come of this' smile. He checked the monitors, and then he checked her, and he shook his head.
'Come on, Edward. Let's go home. You can come back in the morning.' That's what he told me, and because I didn't know what to do, or how to fight back, I followed him."
Edward was crying completely now. And I could feel the tears start to run, slowly down my cheeks. I couldn't imagine how he had felt, but the way he told his story, the way his voice hitched, broke my heart. His words were shaky, his eyes closed against the sting of his tears. "I went back every day. Sometimes her parents were there, and sometimes I spelled them off. She never improved. She had three more surgeries in the first ten days. Do you know what that does to someone? She was so young, thank God she was strong. I only went home at night. My parents wouldn't allow me to stay over. I went back every single morning. I took my keyboard with me, back and forth at first. Somehow no one said anything. I kept it quiet. I'd heard somewhere that people in comas sometimes responded if you spoke to them, but I felt stupid talking to someone who couldn't speak back, but she'd always loved piano, and she'd always loved to hear me play, so I played for her. But I realized that there was nothing appropriate for me to play. Every piece I found, didn't say enough, or said the wrong thing. So I began to write my own."
I realized, in that moment, that the piece of music I had found, the one that Emmett said was like Edward's diary, was in fact the piece of music that he had written while Charlotte was in the hospital. It was probably the most personal, private article that I could have found, and amongst all the pages and the papers, it was the one I found and chose. I did my best to blink back the tears that were running more freely now, as I clung to his every word.
I felt my heart in my throat. Although I'd had no idea what it was or what it meant, that made no difference I realized. It hurt Edward the same either way.
"That piece you found on Valentines day," he said, opening his eyes and looking blurrily at me. "Those were my thoughts, my emotions, everything that ran through my body and mind for the six weeks following the accident." He gulped and hung his head before continuing. "My father was her surgeon. I begged him. I was practically on my knees. He said it was a conflict of interest, but I begged him. My father is the best. One of the most successful surgeons in Illinois, and Charlotte deserved the best. Her parents wanted it too. And, truth be told, at seventeen I still viewed my father as the hero. He could fix anything. He was Carlisle Cullen. And above everything else, he was my dad. When I screwed up, he fixed it. The way I viewed the accident was very childish. Like a broken bike chain, my father could fix my girlfriend." He shook his head slowly and looked up, meeting my eyes. "It didn't work like that. He couldn't fix her, try as he did.
"Six weeks, seven surgeries, and fifteen pages of music later, Charlotte..." he paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing profusely, "died," he choked out, hands gripping mine tighter than he ever had before, and then he pulled away, stepping beside me and resting his elbows on the guardrail, looking out into the dark, tumultuous water. "I killed her, Bella." He looked sideways at me, and I turned to face the same direction as he was, mirroring his stance. "I killed her. I loved her and I killed her. I was worried about her parents sending her to fucking Brown and taking her away from me, but I took her away from myself." He was choking, and stumbling over his words, and everything was coming out jumbled as his shoulders shook and his hands gripped the railing dangerously tight.
"The night she died, I played the piece. It was the only time it was ever played in its entirety."
The silence that stretched between us seemed unending. I listened to the waves lap against the side of the basin, and I listened to Edward's quiet sobs break through the quiet, Seattle night. I didn't even notice the cold, though I began to think about the tears freezing to Edward's lashes, and how cold he must have been. I stepped closer to him, unsure if I could touch him, or comfort him in any way, and feeling utterly helpless.
"It's not your fault, Edward." I reached out to touch his hand, but he ripped it away, and turned his head to stare at me with cold eyes.
"Not my fault?" he hissed. "Did you not hear me? I fucking let the car roll. Me! I'm a perfect driver. My temper got the best of me. I was fucking driving and I didn't have my hands on the fucking wheel, and the roads were icy. I killed her, Bella!"
"It was an accident," I insisted quietly. "A terrible accident, but whether your hands were on the wheel or not, you were going to hit the ice. You can't blame yourself forever."
"You sound like Esme." His voice was hollow. "She gave me the exact same speech shortly after it happened." He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned quietly. "You must hate me," he muttered. I stopped short and took his face in my hand, turning him to look at me.
"Why the hell would you think that?"
"I didn't tell you. I yelled at you. I left you in the dark. I shouldn't have done that Bella. You shouldn't treat someone you love, the way I treated you. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And I'm so sorry."
I stared at him, probably gaping a bit. Love wasn't a word that Edward threw around lightly, but I didn't say anything. He reached out and traced his thumb over my jaw, gently. "I don't hate you," I told him. "I just wish you'd explained things to me; but I understand that you couldn't. I understand that now. I can't imagine how hard this must have been for you to do." I reached my arm around his waist and pulled him to me gently. I felt him relax slightly and then he turned, pulling me tight to his chest and holding me, rocking me back and forth. He pulled my hat off and I felt his face nuzzle gently into my hair, inhaling deeply.
"I love you, Bella. I know I have a lot of shit to deal with, and I know I'm not the easiest to get along with, and I know I have a fucked up past, and I'm scared I'm going to fuck this up as well, so I'll need you to be patient, but I love you and I want to work on this. And I'm so sorry."
I pulled him tighter to me, resting my head over his heart. "Love is patient," I said simply. I felt him kiss the top of my head lightly, his breathing starting to calm as his tears subsided. "And Edward, I love you too."
