Edward walked towards her quickly, hearing the warning signs of her faint, when suddenly she did. Catching her in a one-armed hug, he moved her discreetly to a chair.

Fortunately, the waiting room was almost empty, its few occupants preoccupied with their own tiredness and hurts.

When she opened her eyes, her face was alarmingly pale.

He let go, and sat back in the chair adjacent to hers, his hand under her arm as a precaution.

"How long—?" she started, "how long have you been here?"

"Long enough," he answered quietly.

She looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, a flare of shame washing up her cheeks.

Of all the people to be here.

Serves you right, her personal voice of doubt said, you're the one that wanted to be human. Here you go. How fucking human can it get?

She nodded, looking down at her feet, trying to preoccupy herself with anything other than the horrified grief, guilt and shame she was feeling. "Where's Emmett?" she said, hoping that if she acted normal enough, everything would feel that way too.

Edward's answer was awkward. "He had to...leave. He was concerned he would do something...rash."

Bella didn't say anything for a bit, busy studying the pattern in the linoleum. "Oh."

Then she took a breath in too fast, horror and terror woven into it. "He wouldn't," she choked out, "Oh God, he wouldn't—"

"No," Edward said emphatically, shaking his head.

She nodded at his answer. Her head was moving too quickly though. Then she realized that Emmett wasn't the only one she needed to worry about. "He didn't hurt me, Edward—"

"I think," he said more icily than he wanted to, "that I have eyes enough to see what he did."

"It wasn't what they thought," she said, voice desperate for his belief.

"I understand," he said, more softly. He didn't want to frighten her anymore than she was.

Bella wasn't sure that he did. She looked at him, still trying to govern the many feelings on her face.

"Promise me you won't hurt him," she said.

"Bella—" he started, his voice a warning.

"Promise me," she said again.

It took him a moment, but he did, "I won't."

They sat there for a while, she trying to breathe with some regularity, he trying to stomach all the feelings that were warring within him.

"Do you want to go home?" Edward asked. He was fighting a fresh urge to pull her into his arms, and then not ever let go. That, or have Jasper and Emmett beat him for his own stupidity.

How could he have been so idiotic, to say what he did last night?

Bella was wondering something very similar about herself.

"Please," she answered him.

It was a short, and silent ride. She didn't object when he walked her to her door.

When she opened it though, the smell assailed him.

It must have her too, because her good hand clenched, keys in a tight fist.

He avoided the thought of the boy's name. He would know him, by smell, if he encountered him, and it wouldn't end well for the creature. He could smell her blood, its sweetness mixed with the boy's odour. There was a small smear on the wall, invisible to human eyes, but clear enough to his.

He felt the rage flare, swell, and recede, looking at her, seeing her vulnerable stance. Then the guilt settled, full and heavy.

Would she have done this, if he hadn't said what he did?

No, the little voice in his head told him, of course not.

Edward thought quickly. "Alice," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, "will be home very soon. Perhaps you'd like to spend the night there?"

Bella was staring at her bed, and the comforter that was still sitting on the floor, feeling increasingly nauseated by either the emergency contraceptives, or the idea of being in her room. Or both.

"Maybe for tonight," she said, another shameful blush darkening her cheeks. "I should just...get my stuff," she mumbled.

Edward caught her hand, before she could go in her room, as if keeping her from it would prevent her further hurt. "I think we have everything you need."

"OK," she said, voice small, herself feeling smaller by the minute. She didn't deserve his caring.

Edward was freer with his touch than he knew he had the right to be. He helped her take off her coat in the entrance way, not taking his usual care to avoid that still sparking physical contact.

She didn't notice the paper that she'd shoved in her pocket, slip out, but Edward did, picking it up, handing it to her. Without looking closely, he could see it was a prescription. For pain medication.

"You'll need that," he said, watching her pocket it again.

She nodded, but he suspected she had no intention of getting it filled.

"You will," he said, watching her blush. "You broke your hand."

Maybe the pain'll remind you not to do anything quite so stupid, the voice hissed at her.

She was near tears again, realizing just how foolish and impulsive she'd been. She'd hurt both Jun, and Edward, with her choice, and a broken hand felt like a fraction of the pain she'd caused.

"I'm fine," she said.

They had walked up to what she knew was considered her room.

"You're not fine," he said, "you're hurting and you're upset—"

"Edward," she said quietly, "I think I can take pretty much anything from you right now, except your kindness and understanding."

"Why?" he said, looking at her in confusion.

She closed her eyes, muttering out a breath, "I just slept with someone else—"

He wouldn't let her finish, "What I said last night was inexcusable, Bella," he said, putting up his hand to stop her, "I've hurt you so much with what I've refused you. By asking you to be with me. To live a...half life. And to say what I did last night—"

"Doesn't make you responsible for my choices," Bella finished, sitting down on the edge of the bed, tired, exhausted. She kept her eyes down, barely able to look at him.

"I love you," he said, sitting beside her, taking her hands in his. "That won't ever change, no matter what."

She wanted to say that it should, that he deserved better.

She was too chicken to. Instead, she swallowed, just trying to breathe.

"Let me take care of you tonight," he said, "let me, please, try to undo the hurt I gave you yesterday."

She choked out a breath. "The hurt you did me?"

He nodded.

"Think I kinda upped you one there," she said, closing her eyes again.

"I love you," he said again.

You just deserve much, much more, Bella thought. And you know it. Deep down. It's why you won't change me.

This cut deeper than anything else.

She felt pathetic.

She still loved him too, and it ached, not being wanted in the same way.

With her eyes down, she felt the give of the bed as he sat beside her, and then his hand taking her good one.

There were so many things he wanted to say. That he knew he'd hurt her by leaving, and only hurt her again with returning to offer something approximating a life—one spent running from the Volturi, without children, without the intimacy they both so clearly craved.

He didn't fault her for wanting this time—these few sparse months for her to be as human as she could, before she sacrificed it for the sake of others—him, his family, hers. Always giving too much.

Her guilt, at having this—yes, even this boy—things she should have, was radiating off of her.

"I want you to be happy, Bella. Even if it's without me." Catching her look, he went on. "Yes, I want to be with you. I know you don't believe it, but I do." He dared to put his hand to her cheek. "I have already stolen what I was never supposed to have. If I can give you even a fraction of a human life before you sacrifice it, then I want you to have it. I know I haven't been good at letting you even have this, but I'm trying."

She stared, wordless and wretched.

"But tonight, please, and just for tonight, let me take care of you. Please. Then I promise to give you space for what you want, not to rob you of even more." He looked down, saying it, not wanting to meet her eyes.

The burdens of their individual guilt wobbled together into one, singular bubble.

"OK," Bella practically winced, knowing just how much she didn't deserve this.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling her into a careful embrace.

He was almost undone by her tears, hot against the coolness of his shirt.

When she pulled away, he tugged at the tip of paper protruding from her pocket. "I'm going to have this filled," he said, holding up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "Just for tonight," he reminded her.

"I don't want you spending money—"

"You would never leave anyone you cared about in pain, Bella. Please don't ask me to do that."

She bit her tongue, holding back the reply that would be so easy to make. "OK," she said instead, wrinkling her eyebrows together.

Standing, he watched her shift uncomfortably as she sat. The anger rippled around his feet. The boy had hurt her.

Intimately.

He closed off the feeling immediately, imagining what might have happened if it had been him.

Her hurt was small, he told himself. She'd feel fine in a few days.

None of this soothed him.

"I'll go call this in, give you some time to settle," he said softly. "Can I get you anything to eat, to drink?"

She shook her head, standing. "No, thank you. I'm going to get ready for bed."

"OK," he said, nodding, "I'll bring this as soon as it comes." He was mentally indexing the pharmacies available, trying to decide which would get it there fastest.

He could hear her in the shower, the soft hiss of the water interrupted by her form, and then the hiss of her breath pulled in as the water reached tender places.

When she got into bed, he frowned, knowing he'd have to wake her when the medication arrived.

He was wrong, though. She was restless. Her heart patted out an irregular tattoo, and when the knock from the pharmacy delivery came, it only made her flip over in the bed.

"Bella?" he called from the slit of the door. He knew she wasn't asleep, but he wasn't sure if she wanted him nearby.

"I'm awake," she called back, voice hoarse with weariness.

He let the rattle of the pills precede him.

Sitting up, she mouthed 'thanks', taking the bottle. The pain had settled into its unhappy places, and she was struggling to ignore it, or to settle herself into sleep.

She swallowed the pills, awkward with only the real use of her left hand.

He took back the bottle, putting it out of arm's reach. She frowned, watching him.

"If you can't get up to take one, you aren't ready for another dose," he explained.

She nodded, seeing the sense.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"A little."

"Can I help?" he asked. He knew what had worked before.

So did she, and her face twisted painfully, knowing what he was offering.

How selfish a person would she be for taking that?

"Just for tonight," he said again.

After a moment, she whispered, "please," all her vulnerability packed into the one word.

He waited for her to lay down, and he joined her, their forms separated by the contour of the blanket over her, and under him. His one arm made a cold pillow against a hot, and weary cheek, while the other soothed the ache in her broken hand.

She wanted to cry with relief, but the spasms of her chest refused the regular breathing rhythm her mind wanted to force on them.

Edward suspected the source of her distress, and said nothing, knowing it would only make it worse.

When exhaustion finally found her, she lapsed into silent dreams, aided by the fug of the pain medication.

Alice had seen enough of Edward's evening unfolding to make her eyebrows rise, and speed her return home.

Um...she thought...do you really think this is wise? She showed Edward what she'd seen, now unfolding in Bella's bed.

"Leave it, Alice," he growled, low enough for Bella not to hear.

She gave the equivalent of a mental shrug, trying to silence her worries for her brother, and Bella.

"It's just for tonight," Edward said more gently.

Alice's pained thoughts were too loud to be missed. Images of Edward's immediate future were slipping too quickly through her mind for him to catch them all. They didn't show him and Bella together.

He swallowed the venom pooling in his mouth, and then the disappointment that her visions left him with, accepting the tenuous moment together the night promised him.