A/N: Hola from Tampa. I'm waiting for my time to disembark after a lovely cruise. I came home to an awesome review from Songster over on FicSister's. Mina made me such a gorgeous banner. I'm going to upload it for you when I get home. I'm so glad I have a new chapter ready for you.

~April, 11 Years Ago~

"What the heck are you doing?"

Edward looked up with a halfcocked smile that fell almost instantly. He pushed away from the kitchen table and went to his wife, pushing a damp lock of hair back away from her sickly, pallid face. "Oh, come here, sweetheart." He looped his hands loosely around her waist and pulled her to him.

Kate sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, curling against him. "I don't like this part."

He shifted her in his arms so her back was tight against his chest. He kissed the side of her hair and pressed his palm against her belly. "I don't like it either, but I know something that will make you feel better."

"Are you about to tell me that bad morning sickness means the baby is healthy? Because that's a crock of horseshit anyway. My sister, damn her, wasn't sick a single day, and her baby is healthy and fat."

"I was going to say I was doing some math." He swayed them gently. "If I figured everything right, our little stomach upset should be remedied somewhere around the end of December."

She craned her head up to look at him, a smile tugging at her lips despite the gray-green color of her face. "I hadn't even thought about it. A Christmas baby? Really?"

Edward nuzzled the side of her ear. "It's perfect. Just another reason to love Christmas." He kissed her temple again and then swept her up into his arms.

Kate yelped, wrapped her arms automatically around his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Putting you and my baby to bed," he said, carrying her to their room.

~April, Present Day~

Edward walked away from Bella's dorm room in a haze. Nothing felt real. He walked, but he couldn't have said where he was going. He'd broken out in a cold sweat, and as he made his way across the campus, he began to tremble badly. By the time he made it to his brother-in-law's office, his breath was coming in gasps, and his vision was spotty."I think I'm having a heart attack," he said.

Jasper shot up from his desk and was at his side in an instant, a hand to Edward's shoulder. "No. No you're not. Come on. Sit down."

Edward let himself be guided down into a seat. He clutched at his chest, panicky when he found he couldn't take a deep breath.

"You're having a panic attack," Jasper said, his tone calm. He'd moved off to the side but came back now with a water bottle. "Close your eyes. Take slow, even breaths. Try to drink a little when you can. You're going to be fine."

"How the hell do you know?" Edward snapped, but he did what Jasper said.

Jasper squeezed his shoulder and sat down in the chair beside him. "I've run the poetry and creative writing groups on campus since I started here three years ago. There's some truth to the whole tortured artist thing. I've seen my share of panic attacks."

Edward grunted and kept breathing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling if not calmer, then at least sure he wasn't going to die.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and sat up straight, slumping in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to swallow past the tightness in his throat. "Is that what Bella is? A tortured artist?"

It was a not-so-subtle way of asking what Jasper knew about Bella. His brother-in-law sighed. "What the hell is going on with you two?"

"You can't tell anyone, Jasper. No one. Not even Alice." Edward groaned. In a way, he wanted badly to tell Alice over anyone. His sister was his best friend. At the same time, though, he didn't want anyone to know what was going on. It was already too big, and he simply couldn't deal with everyone else right now. The thought threatened to send him right back into a panic. "Especially not Alice."

Jasper didn't look happy. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this, but…" He pointed at a sign on the wall. "You are a student here, and this is a designated safe place office. Your secret is as safe with me as anyone else's would be."

Edward slumped forward, his elbows on his knees and his hand to his forehead. "Bella's pregnant."

His brother-in-law was not an easily flappable man, yet at Edward's pronouncement, he gaped, stunned. The silence that yawned between them was the nail in Edward's coffin. Some part of him had hoped, when he said those words, it wouldn't be as bad as he felt it was. After all, he had yet to wrap his head around the concept, and babies were supposed to be a good thing. Jasper could have smiled at the news.

But of course, it was as bad as he felt if not worse.

"Edward, are you telling me you slept with a twenty-year-old college girl?" Jasper said, pronouncing each word with great care.

Edward's breath left him in a gust. "Twenty," he muttered. It wasn't as bad as the eighteen she looked, but it wasn't good. Twenty was still devastatingly young. He rubbed his hand over his face. "It was that first reading. That night."

"You disappeared," Jasper said, still dumbfounded. "You disappeared to have sex with a girl."

"Christ, that's not what happened."

He didn't know what to say from there. Obviously, he'd never intended to sleep with her. "All I wanted to do was tell her that her poem…" He didn't know how to explain that either, how her words had stirred something deep and dormant inside of him, something he'd let settle long ago that had been there since his son had died. He shook his head. "But there was some stupid prick who couldn't take a hint bothering her."

Edward gave a brief summary of the encounter—just the facts. How Bella had refused his coat, and he'd agreed to coffee because it seemed like the only way to get her warm again. He left out most of it. Bella was a contradiction. One moment she seemed so fragile he'd have given his life to protect her. The next, she seemed so self-assured and dangerous, he had no doubt she could destroy him. He couldn't say he hadn't been, at the least, intrigued.

"I didn't seduce her," Edward said. "She kissed me and then it happened very fast."

"Fast enough you didn't use protection."

Edward grimaced. The thought had crossed his mind, albeit briefly. He'd assumed Bella would tell him if they needed to use something. The few women he'd been with since Kate had been very upfront about what they needed. But he wasn't going to say that to Jasper. It wasn't Bella's fault. After all, he didn't know her any better than she knew him. He should have been using protection regardless. And besides that, she was terribly young. Women her age often didn't know enough about protection or were too embarrassed to bring it up.

"I'm sorry," Jasper said. "I'm not being helpful. I just keep thinking you're going to tell me you're kidding. No wonder her friend sounded like she was going to rip your balls off."

Bile rose to Edward's throat, and he had to swallow it down. Before he'd left Bella's room, Emily had made sure he saw her bruises. He was pretty sure Emily's ire had more to do with that, and he told Jasper so, explaining what he'd done.

His brother-in-law whistled. "Jesus Christ. I mean, when she came in here and said to tell you she'd take care of it, I kind of figured this was what she was talking about. But I guess I didn't believe it until right now." He clapped Edward's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Edward asked, incredulous. "I just told you I hurt one of your students, a pregnant woman, and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

Jasper tilted his head. "In moments of extreme stress, we do irrational things. I'm not excusing you. Obviously, there's no excuse for any kind of physical violence, but you already know that. I'm betting I can't say anything worse to you than what you're already telling yourself. I also know you're not going to go off and beat the hell out of her. So what's left?" His tone gentled. "I can't imagine this is easy for you."

Edward's throat was too closed to speak. He just shook his head.

"I won't tell anyone until you're ready. I'm here for you, brother."

~0~

Panic was beginning to loosen its hold on Edward's thoughts. That was both a blessing and a curse, but it meant he had about a million questions for Bella.

He had, however, given up the right to ask his questions freely when he assaulted Bella. He had to think of her first. It wasn't her job to make him more comfortable. Since he had no idea what, if anything, he could do about the big picture, he had decided to concentrate on one thing at a time. First and foremost, he wanted Bella to be able to trust him at least enough to not be scared of him. He didn't want to be the sole reason she chose to terminate the pregnancy.

They'd agreed to meet at the same coffee shop they'd talked at the first time. She looked much as she had that first night—the same shoes and style. She had her hands wrapped around her shoulders when she walked in, but when she saw him she stood up straighter and strode over with a swagger in her step. The message was clear. She wasn't going to be bowed by him.

It made his heart ache that she thought it was necessary. He would have pulled her seat out for her but thought better of it, choosing to remain seated as she sat across from him.

He cleared his throat. "Will you let me get you something? Have you had lunch? They have good sandwiches or maybe a pastry."

Edward had to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop talking. He couldn't deny the strong urge to take care of her. She looked piqued, though whether that was from fear or pregnancy he couldn't tell.

Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit as though she were trying to read him. "I can get my own."

"I know you can, but I have to get my order anyway." He looked up at her from under his eyelashes so she would see he wasn't playing any games. He wasn't an idiot. No doubt he'd scared her, shaking her as he had, but whatever was going on with her went much deeper than anything he'd done to her. "Lunch is the least of what I owe you."

"Just coffee," she said after a long pause.

Edward opened his mouth and shut it again but not quickly enough. She must have read his disapproval because irritation flickered across her face. "Decaf," she amended, figuring out what his problem was.

He nodded and went to go stand in line, once again trying to think straight. It was instinct for him to want her to take care of herself and the baby, but he knew he had no rights to tell her what she should and shouldn't be doing. At the same time, there was a part of him whose instinct it was to distance himself from anything about the pregnancy for many reasons, not the least of which was what it would do to him if she did decide to terminate. But if she didn't decide to terminate, what then? The thought of having another baby filled him with an odd emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was dread, fear, anger, and a desperate need for all of this not to be happening.

A few minutes later, he returned to the table with two cups of coffee and two scones, one of which he set in front of her without comment.

"I don't know where to start," Edward said when a minute had passed in uncomfortable silence. "I'm sure you—"

"Are you married?"

The question caught Edward off guard, and he wanted to be pissed she would even ask. But once again, he reminded himself she knew practically nothing about him, and she had every reason to believe he was an asshole.

"No. I'm not. I was." Yet another knot raised to his throat as he thought about his ex-wife. "Our marriage didn't survive the loss of our son."

She looked at him finally, and he was almost surprised to see the compassion in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, cradling the coffee cup between her hands. "Will you tell me about her?"

Part of Edward wanted to scream that it wasn't any of her business, but his anger wasn't for her. He didn't like thinking or talking about his life with Kate. However, he'd promised Bella, when she agreed to meet with him, that he would be completely honest, and he thought he could understand why she would want to know about his relationship. "We met when we were seniors here at NAU. It was an electrical engineering class." He glanced up at her. "That's what I do for a living, by the way. I'm an engineer."

She nodded to let him know she was listening, and he went on. "We had a hands-on lab. I did…something. I can't remember what now, but it set off an electrical reaction. Kate helped me get everything back under control." His lips twitched. "She always liked to say that when we met, sparks literally flew.

"That's actually a good way to describe her. She has a very electric personality. Charged, if that makes sense. She's very smart and witty."

Bella began to pick raisins out of her scone. She still hadn't eaten a bite. "It sounds like you care about her."

He thought about that and chose his words carefully. "We didn't divorce because we hated each other. We just…broke. After Xavier passed away, I wasn't a very good husband, and she wasn't a very good wife. They say you should grieve together." He heard the hint of bitterness in his tone, and he took a drink of coffee, trying to push it down. "I think going through that made us strangers to each other.

"She moved to Phoenix and remarried about four years ago," he said absently. "Garrett Damon. He sounds like a nice guy. They uh…They have two girls. Tanya, who's named after Kate's sister, and Irina. My mother keeps up with Kate, and I see her twice a year."

His stopped talking then, the ever-present dull ache in his chest becoming a sharp twist. He didn't want to have to tell Bella when he saw his ex-wife—on the anniversary of Xavier's death and on his birthday about a week later. He didn't want to think about her holding newborn Irina the way she once held their son, and he especially didn't want to think about Tanya. Tanya who was older than Xavier ever got to be.

Bella didn't ask him to elaborate. She glanced at him, the expression so furtive it perplexed him until she spoke again. "How old were you when you got married?"

Ah, he thought he knew where this was going as well. She looked so young to him. He wondered what he looked like to her. "We dated through graduate school and married when we were twenty-four. We had Xavier when we were twenty-five."

She looked away at that, worrying her lip between her teeth. "So you're what? Thirty-five?"

"I'll be thirty-seven in June."

Most days, Edward felt like he was sixty years old at least. Watching her face go even paler than it had been, he felt ancient. A seventeen year age gap was daunting from both sides, he figured. He wondered if it was enough to label him as lecherous but bit back an urge to tell her that he'd never meant to look at her that way. He'd stick his foot in his mouth faster than quick if he tried.

Not for the first time, he wondered what their night together had meant to her.

The few times he'd ended up in a woman's bed or she in his, it had always been a mutual exchange. His sex drive wasn't overactive, but it did exist. And he was lonely. His liaisons over the last ten years had been with women on the same page. They shared a few hours and went their separate ways, because a few hours was all he had in him.

Bella had been very different. There was something there between them, and Edward couldn't put his finger on what it was. The magnetism that had drawn them together wasn't about physical attraction, and it wasn't about pleasure. It was more powerful than that.

At least, it had been for him.

"I'll be twenty-one," Bella said, bringing him out of his consternation. "In September." She gave a small laugh, tapping on her lips in a distracted way. "I guess I still won't be able to drink."

Edward's heart sped. He looked at her, but she was looking away, her fingers tapping a restless tempo. "Bella…" he started, but he didn't know how to finish.

"I don't know what I'm doing yet." She wiped at a single tear that had gathered at the corner of her eye.

"Do you…" Edward swallowed down a wave of nausea, not at all sure how to feel about what he had to say but knowing he had to do it anyway. "Not for my sake," he said. "I mean, don't keep it for my sake."

She looked up at him with a spark of fire in her eyes. "If I keep it, it won't be because of you." Her fierce expression fell, and she slumped backward in her chair. "I want children, but I wanted them on my terms." She had crumbled her scone to bits by that point. Now, she was pulverizing the crumbs to silt. "Mike tried to make it his choice, and I thought I got away from that."

Edward sat up straighter. He had no idea who this Mike character was or just how he'd hurt the girl in front of him. Her mutterings about him since he'd awokened in her bed to the sounds of her nightmare were cryptic to say the least. He understood that whatever happened between her and Mike made this pregnancy especially traumatizing, but he didn't know how. "Will you tell me about him?" he asked, making sure to keep his tone free of inflection.

Another tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn't wipe that one way. She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." Edward paused, tapping his fingertips against his long cold, still-full cup of coffee. "I have to go. I have to be back at work. Meetings, you know," he said, realizing belatedly that no, she didn't know. "Do you think we can see each other again?"

She craned her head to look up at him, her expression searching. "Because you want to or because you think you have to?" she asked, and he couldn't read the context of her tone.

Edward considered his answer for a handful of moments. "Both," he said, offering her a small smile.

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know about her. Under other circumstances, maybe if they'd met at work, they might have become good friends. Despite the situation, she was remarkably easy to talk to, especially for such a young woman. But it was his need to do right by her, to take responsibility that drove most of his actions at that point. For himself, he didn't know what he wanted or how he wanted this all to end.

Bella took a shuddering breath and rummaged through her bag. She took out a small notebook and a pen. "Give me your phone number."

He flipped through the notebook, noticing a few words here and there that suggested this was where she wrote bits and pieces of her poetry. He was curious. It was like being offered a glimpse of a favorite artist's inner process, but he didn't dare pause to read. Instead, he found a blank page and wrote his number.

"I'll text you," she said, and it didn't escape his notice she didn't offer her number. The idea made him a little nervous. Whatever happened, he didn't want her to disappear into thin air.

But he was asking her to trust him; he needed to return the favor. "Then I hope I'll see you soon."

A/N: Many thanks to Songster and Barburella for being so lovely as to look at this before I even got off the ship!

A little chatting. What are we thinking right now?