Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Many thanks to Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1, my amazing beta team for this story. You ladies rock!

7.

The bar.

"Hey, Ned, have you heard anything from Charlotte lately?"

Edward looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh?" It might have been the early hour and his brain not being quite up to speed with the rest of him, but Esme's question managed to completely throw Edward for a loop.

"Just asking." Esme shrugged, her long fingers played with the stem of her teaspoon.

"Es." Edward shook his head, a small, bemused smile on his lips as he stared her down. "I know you better than that. What are you getting at?" Charlotte and Esme had always had a shaky relationship, the one looking too much like their father, the other favoring their mother in character too much to ever get along. Much like it had been with their parents.

Esme looked slightly annoyed, her lips pursed before they opened to speak. "Just answer the damn question, Ned."

He sat back, his lips folding around the edge of his cup as he washed his palette with strong, black espresso. "The last time I saw her was on my first day of rehab when she came to read me the riot act, what with dad stuck in New York for some business meeting. She seemed to be doing fine back then and I assume the same goes for right now, seeing as robots never get sick and all." His brow arched slightly as he held her gaze, both siblings locked in a game of mind-chess. "Now tell me why you want to know."

"I was just thinking the other day…" Esme let her voice trail off as she brushed a few crumbs of leftover breakfast from the table. "Maybe…maybe I didn't try hard enough with her."

"Get real, sis." Edward sighed. Even though her sudden longing to know about her older sister was quite preposterous, he did feel for her. "She's a lost cause and has been from the day she was born. There's too much of dad in her."

"But-" Esme, always the most compassionate of the Masens started.

"Do you know how many times she called or visited me in rehab?" Edward cut her off. "None. That is, if you don't count that one time dad ordered her to come and lecture me because he couldn't do it himself. Not once." He remembered how his sister had looked, sitting across from him in the living room of the clinic. Her disapproval had been very apparent, her eyes glaring as if she held him personally responsible for the fact that she had to degrade herself by stepping into a house full of drug addicts, recovered or not. The worst thing about it had been that she was actually right, her disdain perfectly understandable even though it had hurt. He'd deserved it. He had deserved the pain.

"Don't do that." His hand jerked as his sister's soft fingers connected with his, her eyes conveying her worry as she tried to catch his gaze. "Don't tear yourself up over it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked-"

"It's not your fault, sis." He shrugged.

"Nor is it yours," she insisted, even though deep down she knew no amount of reasoning could ever overthrow her brother's deeply rooted conviction that he was solely to blame for the dramatic, disastrous turn his life had taken. She would never stop trying, though. She couldn't give up on him, even when, at times, it seemed like he had long since given up on himself. She knew if he could only start believing in himself again he would have such a great future. He could be happy and, who knew, even find someone to love and love him in return.

Again he shrugged, the movement making him seem more like a petulant little boy than a thirty-two-year-old, quite brilliant neurosurgeon. "I know I shouldn't let stuff like that get me all bent out of shape, but it's just with the shrink and all…" His voice trailed off, the understanding between the siblings being perfectly clear without any further explanation.

She nodded, understanding his pain. "Are you sure you want to go to work to today? I'm know Carlisle would understand if-"

"No, I want to go," Edward insisted before his sister could finish speaking. Even if he had been as sure as she seemed to be that her husband wouldn't mind Edward calling in sick only a few hours before his shift was supposed to start, he really did want to go in and work that day. He needed to. To forget.

It had always been the one big difference between open and high spirited Esme and her more introverted, broody little brother. Where Esme needed to talk and open up whenever something wronged her, Edward needed the quiet of his mind to work through his issues. And when quietude was temporarily unavailable, he needed the distraction of his work to push things aside until he could address them.

"How did it go anyway?" Esme asked after a while. "With the therapist? Do you think it's going to work?"

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know. Fine, I guess."

"Are you saying that because you really don't know if you and the new shrink will mesh or because you hate the idea of therapy and won't even give it a fair shot to begin with?" Judging by the way Esme's brow arched as she studied him, Edward had the sinking suspicion she'd known the answer to that question even before she asked it. She knows me too well.

"Both?" he tried, whishing like hell that something would come along to divert her attention. "I guess as far as shrinks go, this one isn't that bad but, it's just…I dunno."

He let out a long breath, trying to stall for time as he reluctantly tried to explain himself. "Shrinks…they always seem to want to talk about the one thing you don't want to talk about and even when you politely tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. They keep on pushing and nagging until, in the end, you cave." He cringed, his heart still hurting from yesterday's 'get-to-know-you-session' with his new therapist. "I just…I need more time. I can't deal with all that shit right now."

"But it's been almost three years, Edward," Esme's voice was laced with the pain she'd been feeling ever since that devastating night that she'd held her brother, shattered and broken beyond repair, in her arms. "You can't keep everything bottled up indefinitely. It will kill you, if it hasn't already. Hell, it's killing me to see you like this."

"Spoken like a true bystander!" Edward chuckled bitterly, washing the bad taste his words left behind away with the remnants of his espresso.

"That's not fair!" Esme gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "I might not have felt a tenth of the pain you've been feeling for the past three years but do you really think it's easy to stand by and watch your baby brother destroy himself? Hell, there were times when we thought we'd be burying you beside her before the year was over!"

At the sight of his sister's tears, his anger and frustration deflated, his shoulders slumping forward as a new wave of guilt washed over him. "I'm sorry, Es," he muttered and reached out across the table to grab her hand. "I shouldn't have-"

"Let's just forget it?" Esme suggested, her eyes still slightly watery as she brushed the tears away.

Edward nodded, his lips curling into a wry smile. His whole life had been about forgetting stuff and sweeping the nastier aspects of it under the rug to be dealt with at a different time. Even though his rug was starting to resemble the pyramid of Giza, he was quite confident there was still some room for more. "I probably should get going anyway."

"Yeah." Esme smiled sadly. "Wouldn't want the rest of the doctors to think you're cutting corners, would you?"

"Exactly." Edward tried to smile as he gathered his things, making sure his notes were in his briefcase and that was wearing a suitable tie in case they had to make an emergency stop at the Harrison's. "Oh," he stopped, remembering just in time before he'd be out the door. "Don't count on me for dinner. I'm heading out to Sam's with a few colleagues."

"You're going out?" That little bit of news cheered Esme up instantly, her eyes shining with a need to know as they focused in on him. "It's Rachel, isn't it? You're going on a date with Rachel Black?"

Edward scratched his head, wondering how on earth's name she could have guessed. Was he giving off some kind of smell or something? "It's…er…it's not a date," he finally muttered, trying to play it off so his sister wouldn't pounce on him the way he knew she would if she believed it to be a date. "We're merely having drinks with a few co-workers."

"She's a great girl," Esme rattled off as if he hadn't said anything to the contrary. "Her family runs the supermarket. Great people and very well-liked around town, though, I do seem to remember they had some troubles a few years back."

"Once again, all that information might have been handy if I was going on a date with the girl, but I'm not." Edward smirked. "So please don't make this into anything more than it is. We're just friends."

The look on Esme's face as he closed the door gave him little room to hope she'd understood. Nope. As he crossed the garden path to where his car was parked, he started to wonder if his sister was already decorating the imaginary house of Mr. and Mrs. Edward and Rachel Masen. Like that is ever going to happen!

No, he'd already rushed into one marriage only to find out that staying together was a lot harder than actually getting together. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. If he was ever going to marry, or even give his heart to a girl, again – and that was a big if – he was definitely going to take his time to find out if the woman he was with was really 'the one'.

Besides, he hardly thought Rachel was going to be the woman who could entice him to make another dash along the aisle. She was cute and, from what he's seen of her, she seemed fun to be around, that much was for sure, and he imagined they would have a good time together while he sat out his voluntary exile in small town Washington but, as far as he was concerned, that was it. He didn't feel that deep connection to her that a guy should feel for the woman he planned to give his name to. He knew better than to think a connection like that could be forged by sheer will.

By the time he made it over to the hospital for his mid-afternoon shift, the ER was flooded with patients. Apparently there had been some kind of monumental mix up at the local high school, resulting in a massive flood of food poisoning and an ER filled with kids puking their guts out. Great! As happy as he is to be out in the field again, puking kids aren't exactly high on his list of things he's missed.

He and Carlisle spent most of their shift handing out emesis basins and putting in IVs for the patients in danger of dehydration. By the time eight o'clock rolled around, he'd already been puked on and changed out of his button up and into different sets of scrubs more times than he could count, the smell of stale vomit clinging to him like a cheap, and quite disgusting, perfume.

"Are you ready to head out?" he looked up to see Rachel's head poking through the curtain. His patient, a drunk driver who'd been brought in after folding his car around a tree before proceeding to throw up, which appeared to be the theme of his day, and fell into a deep, almost coma-like state, snoring loudly in his sleep.

"I'm just gonna finish up over here and grab a quick shower," he answered, his fingers never faltering as they lined up row after row of perfectly identical stitches. "I'll meet you guys over there."

"Okay." Rachel smiled as she nodded. "I'll save you a spot."

"Save me a beer as well," he grinned, winking as she backed out through the curtain, her cheeks flushed and her movements slightly uncoordinated.

"Well, what do you know," he mused, knowing 'drunk guy' was still too spaced out on his alcohol buzz to hear. "Maybe this whole flirting thing ain't half bad after all."

In fact, he was quite enjoying it. It brought back memories of his college days, when he'd been unattached and filled with cocky thoughts about how he was going to rule the world of medicine. It seemed so long ago now, what with the past eight years being filled with nothing but 'grown up' responsibilities and serious relationships. He wouldn't mind having that again; the rush of adrenaline as he went in pursuit and the satisfaction as he got what he wanted.

Chuckling to himself, he went back to the task of stitching him back together, the cuts his windshield had made as it shattered all around him giving Edward more than enough practice to re-sharpen his somewhat rusty stitching skills.

"Didn't your shift end half an hour ago?" The curtain shifted again, this time to allow entry to Maggie Molina, one of the regular docs at the hospital. "I can take over if you want."

"Nah," Edward shrugged. "I'd like to see this through, if you don't mind. I'm just about done anyway."

"Suit yourself." Just as he expected, Maggie peered over his shoulder as soon as she got the chance, the temptation to study his craftsmanship too great to pass up. He leaned back, knowing his handiwork could withstand scrutiny from even the greatest of critics. "I have to admit, I'm impressed," she spoke nodding her approval. "It's not often that you see guys as young as you make 'em as close and even as those."

"I learned from the best, I guess." Edward shrugged, remembering the many hours he'd spent perfecting his stitches, often with one of his mentors watching over his shoulder. "Besides, with a last name like mine, I wanted to make damn sure everyone knew I got where I was because of my skills, not because of who my dad is."

It was why it stung more, knowing the only reason he was still practicing medicine, and would be able to pick his career back up once his probation at St. Mary's was over, was because of his name and his dad's money. All his work, everything he'd fought so hard for…it would have been for nothing without them.

"I can see that!" Maggie noted, flipping through the pages in the chart. "Well, you know what you're doing, kid. I think I may have to give you the benefit of the doubt after all."

And just for that, Edward might have been willing to overlook the fact that she was calling him 'kid', his smile widening as he watched her walk away from out of the corners of his eyes, his hands putting the finishing touches on the stitches.

He was finally out the door about half an hour later after a quick shower and a change of clothes, choosing to cross the short distance from the hospital to Sam's on foot. His heart rate picked up the closer he got to the small sports bar, his eagerness to get to know his colleagues in general, and Rachel in particular, a bit better multiplying with every step he took. Besides, it would be fun to hang out without his sister hovering over him for a change.

Arriving at the bar, he found the place already packed with local folk and the odd combination of eighties retro wooden interiors, big, plasma screens hanging from most of the walls and a small stage tucked into a corner, almost buried under the weight of a rundown piano, a small drum kit and a mic stand.

It was a strange place, even though it didn't aim to be; the décor making it hover somewhere between diner, sports bar and a blues joint, a schizophrenia the patrons seemed to reflect seeing as almost all ages from fifteen to ninety-five seemed to be present. And it seemed to be filled with familiar faces; the sports-bar nature of the place meaning that a lot of those were the kids who'd managed to evade the big puke-fest of that afternoon.

To the other side of the room, where a small dance floor separated the booths from the stage and the bathroom doors, Jasper was twirling a tall, black-haired girl around, their laughter rising up from above the rockabilly road music as she crashed into his arms, completely breathless and with a big smile on her face. Jasper's smile mirrored hers as he held her close, their feet falling into the rhythm of the mellow country song that followed as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Edward averted his eyes, his feelings confused as he sought distraction among some of the other faces filling the crowded bar. He was happy that Jasper was having fun. He was a good kid and the girl, who Esme had told him was named Maria, was pretty and dressed in that same eclectic mixture of tie-dye, worn knitwear and Chuck Taylors as he was. She must have been another member of the group most townsfolk called the 'tree huggers', which explained why they were together in the first place, since Jasper didn't strike him as the kind of guy who was willing to compromise his own ideals and principles just for some piece of ass.

Still, watching them together he couldn't help but envy the guy for what he had. It had been too long since he had held a woman in his arms. Way too long.

"Edward!" Following the sound of the familiar voice, Edward spotted Rachel and a few other familiar faces crammed into a booth near the back, the table overflowing with drinks and buffalo wings as a fair share of the hospital staff sat eating, drinking and celebrating the fact that they'd made it through yet another day at the hospital.

He smiled, the shuffling of his feet along the well-used floorboards drowned out by the sounds of the well-known tunes pouring from the sound system.

"Finally!" Rachel beamed, scooting further into the booth to free up a spot next to her for him. "I was starting to fear you'd bailed on us." She was quick to close the gap as he settled in beside her, aligning her body so their sides were almost flush against each other.

He chuckled, his hands closing around the full pint of beer she nudged in front of him with the sides of her hands, the tips of her fingers too greasy from the wings she'd been eating. "Never!" he assured her, his whole being groaning with satisfaction as he sat back and let the earthy, slightly bitter taste of the beer wash his palate. "I just had a hard time putting humpty-dumpty back together again."

"You mean the drunk driver?" Mark Banner asked, his eyes glassy from lack of sleep after he'd just come off a double shift, and the consumption of a lot of beer in a short amount of time, his arm wrapped around Nurse Beckett, the girl he was not-so-secretly involved with.

Edward nodded. "I must have put close to a thousand stitches into the guy."

"Nasty things, those windshields," Mark grinned, his smile containing no small amount of sarcasm. "I'm glad I was unavailable when that one was brought in."

"I guess I'm going to have to get used to being a grunt all over again, huh?" Edward smirked, chasing away his not-so-fond memories of the first few months at St. Mary's with a large gulp of his drink.

"You've got that right," Mark grinned, tipping his glass to him before downing it in one draft. There was a slightly sharp undertone to his voice as he spoke, leaving Edward no doubt that his newness wasn't so much the cause of his low position of the hospital totem pole as his past. Well, I guess I deserve this.

Edward sighed, knowing that, like when he'd started out as an intern at St. Mary's, the best way to get through it was to just grin and bear it and hope his stoic behavior would soon take the fun out of the game.

Rachel, noticing his change of mood, nudged him softly under the table, her smile making it almost impossible for him to stay all broody and morose as she whispered in his ear. "I bet that in two weeks' time, they'll all be eating out of your hand." Her breathy voice and the simple nearness of her more than achieved the effect she was after; his cock hardening in his pants as he leaned in, his free arm slung over the top of the booth as he brought her even closer.

"What are the two of you whispering about?" Banner jokingly wondered. "You'd better watch out for that one, Cullen. These nurses have a way of sinking their claws into us unsuspecting doctors!"

Rachel stuck out her tongue as Nurse Beckett shrieked and playfully slapped her boyfriend in the shoulder. "I'll get you for that!"

He was about to change the subject when a loud shriek of laughter caught his attention, a flash of golden hair and blue eyes making him squint his eyes to get a better look. "Is that…." He muttered, the rest of his words dying on his lips when Rosalie turned her face towards him, her eyes immediately tightening into a glare. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Technically, this is more of a sports-bar kind of place," Rachel, following his gaze, explained. "It means that the kids can get in, but only for food and games. Besides…" she sat back as Edward felt the slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder, "it's not like they can get up to any mischief in here. Sam knows almost everyone in this town and their ages and not even those kids are stupid enough to do something illegal in front of the whole town."

"Yeah, but she's supposed to be grounded." Though her words managed to calm him some, they did nothing to stop his hackles from rising as Edward recognized the other kids who had threatened Isabella in that alley on his first day in Forks.

There they were, sitting in a booth across the room from him, all smug smiles and entitled gestures like the world belonged to them and the rest of the people in the bar weren't even good enough to lick the soles of their shoes. It made him so angry, his hands subconsciously clenching into fists by his sides as he stared at them, somehow unable to look away.

"Is something wrong?" Rachel, picking up on his annoyance, asked.

He shook his head, trying to dispel his anger. "Nah…I just don't really like Rosalie or her group of friends."

"Join the club!" Rachel giggled. "Around here, you're either in the Kings' little clique or you hate them with a passion. There's no middle ground, I'm afraid."

"Well, seeing as I have to live with the girl, that sounds rather unfortunate."

"Poor Edward!" she cooed, leaning into his side as a waitress brought another round of beers to their table.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice drowned out by his glass as he brought his beer to his lips. "Poor me," he muttered.

Conversation flowed easily after that, the constant appearance of fresh beers, as well as the fact that Mark and Nicole had seemed to pair of, leaving Rachel and Edward to fend for themselves, aiding them in finding their bearings around each other.

The bar, though still schizophrenic in its appearance, was the perfect setting for their first semi-date; the people crammed inside like sardines, as well as efforts of those brave enough to jump the stage for a round of karaoke, providing them with ample material to fill the gaps as they went through the motions every couple goes through on their first date.

That was, until Rachel's eyes suddenly went wide, her lithe little body climbing over Edward's as she wriggled out of the booth with her arms outstretched. "Jakey!"

"Ouch!" a young man who'd just sauntered into the bar, wearing filthy jeans and a well-worn Mariners cap grunted, rubbing his ears in reaction to Rachel's high-pitched squeal. "You may want to check your voice, sis. I think even bats were able to hear you."

"Oh, shush!" Rachel playfully scolded, whacking him square in the chest as she tugged him towards their booth. "Edward, this is my brother Jake. Jake, this is Edward."

"You're the new doc around town, ain't ya?" he asked, plopping down next to him with a brass that made Edward's hackles rise almost immediately. "Izzy told me about you."

"Izzy?" he frowned, his mind catching up too slow for him to put two and two together before Jake spoke again.

"Isabella Harrison?" he offered. "She told me you dropped by with doc Cullen to check up on the old man."

"Oh, that Isabella." Edward's face pulled into a hard line, his mind not entirely clear on what he liked less: Isabella talking about him behind his back or Isabella talking to this baboon of a man. "You know her?"

"Of course I do." The way Jacob tried to lay claim on her wasn't lost on Edward, his eyes narrowing as he gave the boy a hard stare in return. "I do odd jobs around the house for the old man. Can't help but strike up an acquaintance when you do, can ya?"

"I guess not," Edward grumbled, still trying to find out why he was feeling jealous when in reality there was nothing between Isabella and him, but bad blood.

"Oh, fuck no!" Both men were suddenly quiet as Rachel's gasp cut through their apparent pissing contest. "Jacob, do something before Emmett makes a complete fool of himself!"

As Jake followed the direction his sister's eyes were fixed in, a loud, resounding 'fuck' fell from his lips, just in time with the start of a new song. "Too late," he cringed as Emmett's rough, but surprisingly melodious voice rang out. "Mandy? Really?" Jake snorted, stealing another gulp of his sister's beer. "I thought the boy had better taste."

Over at the table across from them, Rose's friends were having a blast making fun of the poor young man, unwittingly trying his best to impress the girl who was starting to look more pissed off by the minute, even though, compared to the original, Emmett's voice wasn't giving that bad a rendition of the Barry Manilow classic at all. It was just the song in itself was so awful to begin with that there was no messing it up, even by a scrawny kid with an unsteady voice.

"Oh, Rosie, you came and you gave without taking." The hilarity in Rose's booth grew to new heights as Emmett started adapting the lyrics to fit the object of his serenade, his frame slowly starting to slump as more of the reactions to his well meant salutation started to register with him.

Rose, meanwhile, was fuming; her hands crossed in front of her chest as she glared at the brave boy on the stage almost as if she could set fire to him by sheer force of will.

It was at that point, halfway through the chorus, that Sam decided the poor boy had suffered enough, his hands quick and sure as they pulled the plug on the karaoke machine. His wife escorted a defeated looking Emmett from the stage amidst a raging outpour of hoots and catcalls coming from a certain table.

The rest of the town watched it all happen with the kind of horror that usually strikes people when they witness a disaster take place right in front of their eyes. They all wanted to do something, and were mightily ashamed that they didn't, but they just couldn't get their minds to stop gawping in amazement long enough to pull their bodies into action.

"Can someone please explain to me what the hell just happened?" Edward asked as slowly, but surely, the natural order of things returned. He left sorry for the kid, especially since, from the reactions he picked up on all around him, it wasn't the first time the boy had made a complete ass out of himself in front of others.

"That was Emmett," Mark, the first one to regain his composure, needlessly announced. "You'll see him from time to time at the hospital since his mom is Carlisle's secretary and he volunteers whenever he can."

Edward nodded, "Go on."

"He's been carrying a torch for Rosalie for as long as anyone can remember and I'm afraid he isn't very subtle about it," Rachel chimed in, her face all compassion as she watched Emmett's pitiful retreat through the backdoor, "but since he's basically from the wrong side of the tracks, Rose won't even give him the time of day."

"Not that he lets that deter him," Mark nodded. "You've got to give him credit for being as persistent as a woodpecker. Over the years he's tried almost everything to win her heart, even if it means embarrassing the hell out of himself like he did tonight."

"It never works, though," Rachel picked up again, the laughter and dripping sarcasm pouring from Rose's booth underlining her statement. "And while we all worry about the poor boy, most of us just wonder why the hell he even wants that little bitch after all she's put him through. No offense."

"None taken," Edward chuckled. After all, his opinion of Rosalie was pretty much the same as everyone else's.

Rachel sighed, her eyes sad as she watched the door Emmett had been ushered out through. "I just hope he'll see how wasted his heart is on that little snake and finds a girl who appreciates him for who he is. He's such a good kid."

Emmett's performance, however unfortunate it might have been, proved to be the highlight of the night; the rest of it passing without further incident as Edward got to know his colleagues in general, and Rachel in particular, a little better until closing time forced them out.

"Where are you parked?" Edward asked as he helped Rachel into her coat.

"I'm not," she chuckled, a little unsteady on her feet after several beers and a perpetual state of flusteredness as Edward sat beside her all night, a little closer with every drink they imbibed in. "I live right around the corner, across from the hospital."

"I'll walk you, then," he smiled, linking his arm with hers. "My car's still in the hospital lot."

As they walked, side by side in a comfortable silence, Edward tried to take stock of the night. He had enjoyed himself, which was a fact. His colleagues had proven to be the kind of people he could hang out with even beyond office hours, and Rachel…she was turning into exactly what he needed to get back into the saddle again after Tanya and Claire. She was carefree, down to earth and easy to be around with. Just the kind of thing a guy would wish for when it came to having someone around to have fun with, but nothing else. She'd be fun to have around, yet, easy to walk away from when the time came for him to go back to Chicago.

But as he brushed his lips briefly against hers in parting, it didn't feel as it should, because there was one thought that kept on singing in the background of his mind.

They were the wrong lips.

Thoughts?