A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm off to the school, but I thought I'd leave this for you first.
Edward woke first, when it was too early to consider getting up. He thought about it anyway. Today was going to be hell. Maybe he could get everything over with before Bella even woke up.
It was then that Edward remembered where he was and why he was nude and sticky. He turned his head to the side. Sure enough, Bella was there, still asleep and just as naked.
It took a few minutes for it to sink in that Bella wasn't sleeping peacefully. She was curled on her side, her features pinched. Her lips moved, talking in her sleep.
"I didn't mean it," she said.
Edward scrubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering if he should wake her up. It wasn't a full blown nightmare-not like the awful ones that usually plagued her when they were this close. He shifted onto his side, and she flinched.
There should be some kind of biological law that there could be only one crisis at a time. What he wanted was to take this beautiful woman in his arms and get answers to all the heartbreaking questions he had.
In Washington, she'd said he was the only one she'd ever chosen to sleep with. Considering she'd been in a relationship with a man she thought loved her, Edward wanted to understand exactly what that meant. He wanted to know why she didn't want to orgasm.
He wanted to know these things because he wanted to keep her in his bed. That was what he wanted to revel in, to deal with. That idea was more than enough to deal with, in and of itself. It had been almost half his life ago that he'd last tried to figure out how to ask a woman to be his.
It was frightening, though not exactly shocking, that he was thinking along those lines. It made all the sense in the world and yet no sense at all. They were both broken.
Bella whimpered in her sleep and rolled onto her back restlessly. The blankets fell down, exposing her breasts. Despite his heavier thoughts, Edward felt a rush of warmth, remembering how responsive she was when he'd touched her the night before. For a fraction of a second, he considered waking her with his mouth over her nipple and his fingers inside her, but he knew better. She still looked troubled. She was probably dreaming of a man whose touch she feared.
Besides, he knew he was just stalling. There was no part of him that wanted to face today.
Maybe things had changed. If he and Bella were in the same bed, was it necessary to clean out the other room?
Beside him, Bella sighed and wiggled. The blankets fell down a little more so they hugged her bump. Edward breathed in slowly and reached out to pull the blankets up again.
Even if Bella didn't need that room, someone else would soon enough.
A surge of fury went through him, protective and feral. This was the part of him that reared its ugly head, resistant to the idea of change. Change for anyone could be scary, but this...
Since Bella had told him she was pregnant, he'd known this day would come. It was never going to be something he could put off until the baby was born. Whether or not he could deal with it, he and Bella needed to have answers well before then.
Starting with this.
Edward got out of bed, careful not to wake Bella, thinking again about getting it over with. All things considered, there wasn't much to clean out. Maybe he could spare Bella the worst of his reaction.
He got as far as the closed door before his his mouth went dry and his step faltered. No. He pressed a hand to the door and, not for the first time, imagined what it might have looked like if his eleven-year-old son lived here. Would this door still be closed to him-his sullen pre-teen moodily yelling at him to keep out? Exerting his need for freedom? Would there be posters, signs, and stickers on the door?
His fingers trembled. He leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, reaching for his cell phone in his robe. He called his family-not because he needed them, but because he didn't think Bella should have to deal with him alone.
Unfortunately, his family hadn't arrived by the time Bella surprised him. He was still standing, his hand resting on the doorknob, lost in memories, when she put her hand against his back. Edward jumped at her touch, but he bit his tongue before he could yell at her to go away. Just go away. He didn't want to have to deal with her right now. This time, this space, didn't belong to her. He curled his hand into a fist on the doorknob, his jaw tensed as he waited for whatever meaningless comfort she was going to offer.
Bella said nothing. She rested her head between his shoulder blades and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist. She didn't push him, didn't move her hand to open the door herself; she simply stood there, lending him her considerable strength.
He thought he could feel the hardness of her belly even between his robe and hers.
It struck him then that it had been a very long time since he'd had a partner in life-someone to help carry the burden. A different kind of guilt twisted inside him. He'd had a partner once, and he'd failed her. But he was already wracked with guilt. Guilt, trepidation, fury, impotence. What he felt about Kate was the maelstrom in his head picking up a little more debris.
Edward took a deep breath, putting one hand to hers at his waist and twisting the knob with the other.
With his eyes closed, it was the scent of the room that hit him first. It was the musty-attic smell of a space that hadn't been used in a long time. The windows hadn't been opened. The surfaces hadn't been dusted, and the spiderwebs hadn't been cleared away in years. It was the smell of unfulfilled purpose.
He heard Bella draw in a breath, and he opened his eyes.
In his memories, he remembered sitting in this room when the walls were bare and the room was empty. He and Kate had paint samples all around them as they debated blue versus purple. The green they'd finally chosen had seemed so soothing then. Now, the color was lackluster, the shine gone. The monkey decals were peeling off in places. The crib, the mobile, the shelves of toys and books-all of them seemed strangely dilapidated. Broken.
Appropriate.
"You can tell me," he said, his voice surprising both of them if the way Bella jerked was any indication. His mouth was so dry, the words came out as a croak.
"What do you want me to tell you?" Bella asked, her tone gentle.
"The things they alway say in movies. This is a tomb. Something like that. All his toys. His clothes. His crib." Edward forced himself to look at the crib where he'd watched his son sleep so many heartbreaking nights, watched his chest rise and fall, watched his breath wheeze. "The sheets he slept on."
Edward sat down in the doorway, crossing his legs and slumping over with his elbows on his knees. He stared at the room and just hurt. "It's wrong, isn't it? You can tell me."
Bella knelt at his side, and to his surprise, she wrapped her arm around him. "I don't think it's wrong."
He huffed. "It's been ten years. I don't think I've opened this door in at least seven. Tell me it's psychotic."
Emmett had told him something along those lines more than once.
"I think there are much worse ways to be psychotic than not packing up your son's nursery." She rubbed his back like he'd done so many times for her. "Edward, if you don't want to do this, I'd understand. It was just the tension that was getting to me. We talked about that."
Tempting. So very tempting. There wasn't much he wanted more than to close the door again. This room had too many memories. He looked to the rocking chair, remembering rocking Xavier the night they brought him home from the hospital-just him and his boy and the dream of all the days to come.
He closed his eyes again and turned his head, bumping his forehead with hers. He raised a hand, cupping her cheek and feeling her soft hair beneath his fingertips. When he opened his eyes again, seeing her instead of the room, the lump in his throat was small enough that he could speak. He put one arm around her, cuddling her close, and rested his other hand on her belly. He stroked his thumb over the bump. "Bella, don't let me off the hook." He spread his hand wide over their baby, ignoring that damn voice in his head, screaming in outrage because sitting here, outside Xavier's nursery, this felt like a betrayal. "He…" Edward bit the inside of his cheek, trying to beat back his emotions. "He or she needs you to be strong when I can't."
Sighing, he kissed her cheek once, twice. "I swear I'm trying, but please don't go easy on me. This is too important." He felt the tremor that went through her and held her close. "I'm sorry. I wish I was stronger. For both of you."
She took a shaky breath and ducked her head, her nose tickling his neck. "No. You were strong for me when I couldn't be." She took his hand over her belly. "We'll be strong for each other."
Despite himself, Edward's lip quirked up at the corner. He hugged her tightly, both of them rocking ever so slightly. After a moment, she pulled back and kissed him softly. "I'm going to take a shower."
She was giving him space, and Edward couldn't say he didn't need it. She leaned on him as she climbed to her feet and ruffled his hair once before she walked back down the hallway to his room. He watched her go until she was out of sight. Then, he turned again toward the room.
For ten years, Edward had relived the agony of his son's death every single day. His heart was wounded, forever broken and bleeding. Why was this worse? Why did it hurt so much more, as though the wounds were fresh, the skin not even beginning to scab?
Edward bowed his head and threaded his fingers through his hair. It was a strange place to be-wanting what limited memories of his son he had and yet…
The days and nights he spent in this room, wondering if today was the day his baby boy was going to go to sleep and never wake up had been impossible to live through the first time. He'd almost forgotten this feeling-like something with big talons had a hold on his lungs and it was squeezing and shredding.
He gritted his teeth, but the tears came anyway.
~0~
For the most part, Edward was quiet as he worked. His parents were there with him and Jasper, but Alice and Emmett had absconded somewhere with Bella. It was for the better. The tension in the room was putting everyone on edge.
"God dammit," Edward said, pushing the crib away. He was supposed to be disassembling it, but all that was happening was him getting increasingly more frustrated as he remembered how happy he was when he put the damn thing together.
It had been such a great day. Emmett was still his best friend, and he leant his expertise in crib assembly. He'd teased Edward, but he was proud too and excited to be the uncle for once.
Edward kicked the crib, angry at the world.
"Why don't you let me do that?" Jasper said, moving to Edward's side.
"Yeah. You'll do this. Mom is packing up all the clothes. Dad is clearing the shelves. I know what you're all doing."
His parents set down what they were doing and went to him, each of them putting a hand on his shoulder. Esme rubbed his back.
"I know this is hard," Carlisle said.
Edward wrested his away from their touch, moving to the other side of the room and ripping one of the wall hangings off. "You have no fucking idea what this is."
Carlisle didn't argue, but he reached out for Edward again. "Okay, how about this. I can see it's painful, but it will help you heal."
Edward flung the wall hanging across the room and whirled on his father. "I don't want to heal!"
The other three in the room stared, and Edward had to look away. He wanted to hold on to his anger, but it was threatening to slip. He needed it if he was going to get through this. He needed it, because if he wasn't angry, he was going to start putting everything back, wrestling with them, trying to keep what they were trying to take from him. He wanted everything back in place-the crib with its bright bedding, the toys on the shelves, most of which Xavier never got to play with, the tiny clothes back in the dresser and hanging in the closet.
And he wanted his baby boy, with his coos and his chubby cheeks, pink and healthy, nestled here with all his things.
He leaned against the dresser, fingering a collection of bibs and onesies with cute sayings on them. "I know what happens when people heal," he said, his voice raw. "Healing means forgetting."
"You're never going to forget, Edward," Esme said in a heartbroken whisper. "None of us are ever going to forget him."
"No. We won't forget everything." He swallowed hard. "But we won't remember everything either."
"But to keep living like this?" Carlisle said.
"Not living, more like," Jasper said, not unkindly.
"You've surrounded yourself in memories of Xavier for so long. I can't imagine how that badly that must hurt," Carlisle said.
"What the fuck does that matter?" Edward asked, his tone full of venom. "I saw what that fucking disease did to my baby, and I couldn't help him. What the hell is this pain to that?"
"Edward-"
"I don't want to heal," Edward repeated. "I don't want it because it'll mean I have to stop replaying all my memories. I'll lose them, and they're all I have left of him." He gripped a handful of his son's onesies, his jaw clenched. "I don't fucking want to get better." He threw the clothes at Jasper, furious. "I don't want to live again, not if it means I'll forget the details of his face and how it felt to hold him in my arms. I don't fucking want to shut this all away and forget what it sounded like when he called me 'da'." He threw another handful of clothes at his father. "I don't want to heal because the pain might get better, but I would lose him. I would lose him."
His fury drained away and he squatted, threading his fingers through his hair and tugging. He breathed raggedly, in dragging gasps.
When his father and mother knelt on either side of him, hugging him between them, he let go. He turned into his father's embrace and buried his head at his shoulder, sobbing inconsolably. He felt his mother behind him, her words soft in his ear.
He wanted to scream out the terrible rage inside of him. Heal and lose Xavier's constant presence in his life? It was a blasphemy. Why should he heal? So he could give this new baby the love and attention it deserved from its pathetic father? Xavier got eleven months of life, most of which he spent fighting. For what? So his mother could heal-forget the tiny details of his face, his laugh, his babbling so she could move on? And now his father was trying to do the same. What the hell kind of justice was that?
Edward didn't want to give this new baby all the things Xavier would never have.
He sobbed in fear now, clutching his father tighter and wishing like hell he could be a little boy again. He remembered a time when he woke from nightmares, and he was small enough for Carlisle to gather him up and surround him protect him from all the bad things in the world.
Because even more terrible than replacing Xavier in all the hopes and dreams he once had for his child was the idea of losing another one. There was no reason to think he would have to watch another of his children die, but then, there'd been no reason to think Xavier would die. It was the unpredictability of life, and lightning did strike twice on occasion. There was no guarantee. So if he opened his heart, if he let himself dream and plan, if he let himself love this baby and he lost it…
No, he couldn't go through that kind of pain again. Not again.
He cried until his throat was hoarse and his eyes ached. His body sagged-he had no strength left to hold himself up. His sobs had diminished to hiccups. He just hurt.
Eventually, Jasper supported him, pulling him to his feet, and the three of them led Edward back to his room. They helped him lay down-someone took off his shoes and someone else tucked the blankets around him. Carlisle and Esme hugged and kissed him.
"Mom," he said, his voice a rasp.
She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through his hair.
Edward didn't look at her. He stared straight forward, trying to remember how to breathe through serrated lungs. "Will you finish it?"
Her hand faltered but only for a heartbeat. "Of course, sweetheart."
Edward closed his eyes. He slept.
When he woke again, the light from the windows was weak. The house was quiet. It took him a few seconds to realize he'd stirred because the bed dipped.
Bella touched his shoulder with a light hand-not to wake him but to test. Edward didn't move. She climbed under the covers and pressed her chest to his back. When he still didn't protest, she wrapped her arm around his waist. He felt her lips on his shoulder.
Closing his eyes again, Edward let Bella hold him.
A/N: So many thanks to all the lovely women who put up with me.
E/N: It's an end note because I didn't write anything, but in payment for posting LyricalKris' chapter while she's sitting in class, I am allowed to play in her docs and then beg y'all for fics! Thank you for all of the preg!fic recs last time 'round (I think that was for Oblivious, go read that one if you're not already)! My Twific theme for this week is 'taboo relationships'! So, I'm looking for taboo relationship fics. Edward/Bella, HEA, and I prefer completed stories. You know, stories like Kris': "Suddenly" or "Just A Number" or "Deceitful Taboo". I'm also planning on reading "My Other Brother" by A Cullen Wannabe. Any other recs out there? Thank you! ~GinnyW