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!

I added a picture for this chapter to the blog. You can find the link on my profile page.

8.

The boy.

Waking up that Saturday morning, Edward felt oddly frustrated. On the one hand, there was nothing he wanted to do more than to go out for a run; breathe in the crisp, fresh air as the wind swept through his hair while the forest around him breathed with the soft winds of the rare, beautiful day. On the other hand, however, was the chance of running into Isabella again, which was most certainly not something he was looking forward to. Yet, at the same time, part of him wanted nothing more than to see her again.

He hated it.

She was like a drug to him and he was starting to find it harder and harder to abstain. Like he needs any more addictions. He groaned, pulling his pillow over his head as his breathing coming out in harsh pants while he tried to push the image of her – red, pouty lips, pale white skin and eyes that seemed to pierce right through him – out of his mind.

And so his decision had been made, the risk of more confusion and conflicted feelings far outweighed the benefits of the great outdoors. But it wasn't like he was scared of a girl or anything. He snorted bitterly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as his bare feet made contact with the cold floor. Yeah, try convincing yourself of that, Edward. Hell, maybe if you repeat it often enough, you'll even start to believe it.

Ten minutes later, he found himself quickly scarfing down a danish, his bag already slung over one shoulder as he got ready to try out Forks' one and only gym. Before he was out the door, though, the sound of his brother-in-law's voice stopped him.

"Going out?" Edward jumped a little, not having seen Carlisle appear in the doorway. Empty coffee cup in hand and he looked like a man who clocked in too many hours at work with dark circles under his eyes and frown lines digging into his forehead. Edward felt sorry for the guy, even if it had been Carlisle's own choice to become the chief. If anything, the sight of his brother-in-law only cemented his conviction never to follow in his steps. As long and sometimes dragging as his own shifts were, he was happy to serve them out without the added stress and pressure of running the place and trying to undertake the impossible task of making everyone – doctors, nurses, patients and board members – happy.

"Yep," Edward nodded, realizing Carlisle was waiting for his reply. "Gotta do something to keep in shape."

"Indoors?" The funny look Carlisle gave him made Edward suspect that Esme had already told her husband about Edward's taste for outdoor running, but if Carlisle indeed found it strange that Edward suddenly seemed to prefer the stifling aroma of an aging gym to the freshness of the forest, he didn't comment.

Edward shrugged. "Thought I might try it out for a change."

"Right." Carlisle's look was skeptical, though he didn't press the matter. "Do you have time to drop by the Harrisons' afterwards?" he went on to ask. "Usually I'd do it myself but since I have to cover for Maggie all day, I'm not sure I can sneak out in between patients."

And there went his resolve to avoid Isabella as much as possible. In fact, it felt almost as if the universe was conspiring against his desire to choose the right path at the moment. So much for avoidance tactics. Edward hid his smirk behind his gym bag as he nodded, the reluctance in his voice belying his words as he spoke. "Sure. I think I've got time before my shift starts."

"Good." Carlisle looked rather pleased. "They're probably fine but with them living so far out in the wilderness, I always like to pop over a few times each week to make sure Aro hasn't taken a turn for the worse."

Or if his evil caretaker hasn't put arsenic in his drink when he wasn't looking, Edward thought, his sarcasm knowing no bounds where it came to the brusque behavior of stone-cold Isabella. It may have been his experience with cold, abrasive people or his wounded pride, but the way she bugged him was quite unlike any other unpleasant experience he'd ever had with the human race. And that was saying something, considering the household he'd grown up in.

But he couldn't very well voice his true opinion so he just stuck to professionalism; assuming the same mask he wore when dealing with a tough patient or discerning superior. "Is there anything you particularly want me to look at?"

"Not really." Carlisle shook his head. "I've already monitored and logged his condition when we visited him earlier. This one is just to see how he's doing. Besides, it's a prime opportunity to for you to bond with him."

Edward nodded, knowing that if he was to play a significant role in treating this patient, his discomfort where it came to the girl would have to take a backseat. James Harrison wasn't the kind of patient that could be bowled over by expertise and authority. No, in order to get closer to this man and have the opportunity to study his disease, he would have to knuckle down and spend time with him...earn his trust and, with it, the right to play a part in his treatment. As eager and impatient as Edward was to get involved, he knew he needed to put in a lot more time before that would happen. Time he was more than willing to sacrifice, though. No matter how much scorn and animosity he would be exposing himself to in the process.

Isabella Harrison would just have to be endured. Like another burden added to his load.

On his drive over to the other edge of town, where the small, slightly dilapidated one story building of Fitness 2000 stood, he busied himself trying to come up with the right approach; his mind weighing the pros and cons of different ways to try and earn Aro's trust as he steered through the now almost familiar streets of Forks. Going for familiarity would be a capital mistake; it didn't only clash with the life Aro had set up for himself but it would probably also play into his paranoia. However, staying on the fringes and acting purely professional would make it extremely difficult and even more time-consuming than his efforts already were to establish a bond of confidence with his patient.

Ugh! Edward groaned with his hands still clenched around the steering wheel even though he'd parked his car minutes ago. If his supervisors back at St. Mary's would have known just how 'easy and stress free' his six month stay in Forks was shaping up to be, they would have thought twice before allowing him to make the journey. He was glad they didn't know, though, even if his head was completely spinning with the herculean task that lay in front of him.

The minute he finally walked into the gym he'd already started to regret his decision to stick to the indoors; the dated décor, the loud pop music thumping from the sound system and the stench in the air of many workouts before him stirring Edward with nothing but the urge to run…away from the place, that was.

"You're the new doc, ain't ya?" a man, clad in a t-shirt bearing the name of the gym asked as he walked up to him.

Edward nodded. "I'm Edward Masen, yeah. I'd like to join this gym."

"Great!" the guy answered. "I'm Quill Ateara, the regular instructor here, so most of the time you'll be dealing with me." He grinned as he shook Edward's hand, his face bearing that healthy, good-humored look that seemed to be characteristic of sports enthusiasts all over the world. "Let's get you set up. That is, unless you want to keep stand here and discuss my unusual name."

"Nah," Edward chuckled as he followed Quill to the changing rooms. "It is unusual, though. Spanish?"

"Native American," Quill answered. "I'm from the rez, down by first beach?" He waited for Edward to nod before he went on. "Folks are even talking about you around my neck of the woods. You should consider yourself famous."

"I'll remember to put on a hoodie and a pair of shades next time I go outdoors, just to keep the fangirls at bay," he joked back, inwardly chastising himself for not picking up on the name. Of course he knew of the nearby Quileute reservation, already having had a few of its residents stop by his work. Why the hell had he thought the name was Spanish?

Luckily, the paperwork didn't take long to finish and, before he knew it, Edward was finally on the treadmill, cranking up the sound on his iPod to drown out the bubblegum pop as the monotony of his movements and the slight burn in his muscles swept him away and calmed his mind. It might not have been the same as running outdoors, but as the minutes passed, and that satisfying sheen of sweat started to cover his warmed skin, and even Edward had to admit that it was actually a pretty good workout.

After half an hour he switched, following the sign downstairs to the weights-section in the basement; the place empty except for one lone and slightly familiar figure groaning under the weight of far too much iron for such a scrawny kid.

Normally it wasn't in Edward's nature to butt into other people's lives or exercise regimens but in this case, he figured he probably had to. Before he had gone downstairs he'd noticed Quill was busy checking in some blonde beach babe and the kid looked like he was about to burst a vein in his forehead. Better to step in now than to have him in his OR later on.

"You're Emmett, right?" he asked, cautiously approaching the sweaty mess suspended on the weightlifting bench lest the boy would startle and hurt himself. "Need a spotter?"

"I'm…fine," the Emmett croaked, though his difficulty with which he spoke belied his optimism.

"Here." Edward left him no choice; moving in no matter what the kid said and putting the weight bar -which was heavy even for him- back into the brackets. "Let me help you with that."

"I said I was fine," Emmett grumbled petulantly, rubbing his sore arms as he sat back up. "And how do you know my name anyway?"

Edward shrugged. "I caught your performance last night."

"Oh." Emmett's shoulders fell as he was painfully reminded of his failure to impress the object of his affection.

"Yeah." Edward sat down next to him, figuring the boy needed some kind of pep talk or at least a sympathetic ear given the state he was in. "So, you're trying to build some muscle to impress the girls?" They both knew there was only one girl Emmett was trying to impress but Edward figured a little bending of the truth would probably go over better given the way things had turned out the previous night.

Emmett nodded dejectedly. "It doesn't help, though."

"That's because you're starting out too heavy," Edward started deciding symbolism would probably be the right tool to go with. "You have to build it up to make it stick." As with the wooing. He smirked when he thought back on the way the poor boy had sang his heart out the night before.

"That's what Quill said," Emmett pouted, "but I don't have the time to take things slow. Clock's ticking and there are only so many weeks left before finals and college. I can't afford to waste any time, doc."

"You have a little under two years, right?" Edward waited for Emmett to confirm that fact before he went on. "That's a lot of weeks to get things going. It should be more than enough time to grow some muscle following a sensible plan. The way you're going now, though…" he shook his head for extra effect, "you're only burning muscle, and probably faster than you can grow it."

If anything, that particular message got through to him, Emmett looking from Edward to the weight bar and back to Edward again as slowly but surely he started to realize that maybe he wasn't going about this whole 'getting buff' thing the right way. "Man, why can't I be more like my dad!" he finally groaned.

"Let me guess, he's a logger?" He'd heard a few story's about the 'McCarty clan' at the hospital; most of them accompanied with scornful smirks as they joked about the plentiful brood of Nora McCarty, even though around the hospital she was greatly valued and well-respected. To Edward, all he heard was the hard-wrought story of a working class family with six kids, trying to make ends meet in the middle of a depression.

"Yep." Emmett let out a deep sigh. "He's huge and he doesn't even have to work for it. Like my brother, Paul."

"So you wanna be just like the two of them?" Edward guessed.

"In appearances, yes," Emmett replied, "in everything else? Not so much. I wanna be a doctor. Not that I ever will be."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I've wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember, it's just the grades that worry me."

"The grades?" Edward asked.

Emmett nodded. "They're good, but good enough to earn me a full scholarship?" He shrugged. "It's where being born in obscure, little Forks doesn't exactly help. There are kids out there in better schools who will get the opportunities, not the poor little beggar in bumfuck Washington."

"I could help you with that," Edward spoke, feeling for the first time in his life that being born into a golden cage might not be such a bad thing if it meant that he could help others escape their cages. "My family-"

"Thanks doc," Emmett interrupted him before Edward could elaborate, "but if it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass. I want to make it out there by my own merit, not because I have the right kind of friends."

Edward smiled, patting the kid on the back. "As it should be." He wondered if Rosalie would ever know the true value of the offer she had been casting aside so callously for Edward might not have known Emmett that well – or Royce King for that matter – but from what he did know, he could already tell that the former outshone the latter in every matter, but money. "If you need any help, though…"

"I'll let you know." Emmett somehow managed to crack a smile, his shoulders already a little straighter as he eyed the weight bar. "So, start small, huh?"

"That's the trick," Edward nodded, "build it up slow if you want to make it stick."

"Sounds logical," Emmett mumbled. "So, you have any advice on women?"

"Basically the same," Edward chuckled. "If you drown a girl in grand tokens of affection, the only thing you'll do is scare the shit out of her and you don't want that, do you?" Once again he waited for Emmett to nod before he went on. "Be her friend first. Show her that, even though the two of you are different, you can be what she needs."

"I doubt she'd even notice," Emmett's face slumped with defeat again as he shook his head, making Edward want to rant away about how there were tons of girls prettier and definitely more worthy of his attention that Rosalie. But he didn't. Because he knew intrinsically how far gone Emmett was and in the state he was in…there simply were no other girls.

"Love is not a sprint," Edward warned him. "It's one hell of a marathon but even though there are times when you think about giving up or even dying by the roadside, we all know the end result is worth it. And I'm not talking about sex." He gave Emmett a poignant look, reveling in the way the boy's cheeks changed color quickly. Grinning to himself he rose from the bench, eager to go on with his workout as he patted Emmett on the back. "You'll do fine, Emmett."

"Thanks, doc," the boy called after him. "I'll see ya around the hospital."

Mercifully, the rest of his workout passed in a much more tranquil manner as both men set to their individual routines; Edward doing his usual weights while Emmett was starting to find out that if you didn't attempt to lift something the weight of a baby elephant, working out could actually be fun.

All too soon, though, his time was up. He had a late afternoon shift to be on time for – the last of his half-shifts before the hospital was finally going to treat him like a grown man and let him work a full one – and if he wanted to make it up to the Harrisons' and back before that, he really had to hustle.

One quick shower and a change into his work clothes later, and he was on his way. The tension settling in his shoulders with every mile he got closer to the house in the woods.

And with every mile he found it harder to deny the fact that part of him was actually looking forward to seeing the patient. And Isabella.

He didn't know why. Of course, his curiosity after his patient could be explained away by his professional interest in the case. After all, not even his mentors at Northwestern had ever mentioned coming across a case of FFI. His eager anticipation to see Isabella, however, completely befuddled him. Why he was subjecting himself to another round of hostile looks and barely veiled insults was something he wasn't altogether clear about but why he was looking forward to it? There must have been a streak of masochism running deep within him after all.

He didn't have long to think about it, though, his car taking him deep inside the forest towards the Harrisons' home before he could come up with a plan or even a frame of mind fit for the occasion.

Whatever, he thought as he got out of the car and grabbed his briefcase from the backseat. I'm just here for the patient, anyway. He's all that matters.

Coming to a stop in front of the door, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, the resounding sound of footsteps against the tall walls and roofs of the entrance hall following soon after.

Isabella's face was already reading like a thunderstorm but it clouded over even more as soon as she spotted her mystery guest standing on the front steps. "Oh, it's you," she grumbled, her voice only a hair's breath away from snarling as she stared back at him unabashedly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Edward squared his shoulders, his eagerness at seeing the girl already completely gone as he reminded himself to stay professional. "I'm here to see my patient…to see Mr. Harrison. Carlisle would have come himself but he's tried up at the hospital at the moment and-"

"Well, my uncle is busy at the moment," she snapped, "and so am I. We cannot be disturbed."

She tried to close the door on him but Edward, with a fastidiousness that surprised even him, stopped her before she could do so, his foot throbbing as she slammed the door against it. "I understand, ma'am, but this will only take a minute. I'm just here to see if everything's still alright." It took a lot out of him to address her with ma'am, the title far too formal and polite for vicious little witch like her.

"Isabella? Who's at the door?" the patient sounded from within.

Isabella paled, her throat constricting visibly as she swallowed before she answered his question. "It's no one, Aro, just some traveler needing directions. I'll be right back."

Traveler? Edward arched his brow as he looked back at her as she silently challenged him to speak up. Which he didn't. Because, apparently, he was a complete pussy. Or so he gathered from his sudden lack of words… or balls.

"Look." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes glaring fiercely as she tried her best to square up to him even though his tall frame loomed over her tiny one like the Eiffel Tower. "I'll just make this short and use small words so that even you can understand, we're fine, we're busy. There. Now go away."

And just like that, she closed the door in his face, her heels clicking down the wooden floor as she distanced herself from him. Literally.

"Fuck!" Edward gasped running a hand through his still wet hair. What the hell had just happened?

He knew that if it had been Carlisle standing there, he would probably have tried again and again, until he'd finally worn the screeching banshee down with his charm and patience but he? He'd suffered enough humiliation at the hands of Isabella Swan to go through all of that again. He wasn't a masochist or at least not so much that he would give her the satisfaction of shooting him down again and again and again.

He knew in that moment, still standing on the doorstep of the Harrison's home, he should have been thinking about the welfare of his patient and the dangers of leaving without ascertaining that Aro was, indeed, in good health. Even as he played back the tape in his mind, listening back to all of Isabella's words, he couldn't make himself focus on the few words he'd heard Aro speak for longer than to conclude that at least he sounded well enough.

This is going nowhere. He scowled almost as if it would somehow magically open the door and allow him inside where he had been so impolitely locked out. He isn't going to get anywhere. Not today.

He let out a deep breath, his finger pressing the doorbell in a second attempt to do his job but, though he could clearly hear the sound ringing throughout the house and knew they should have been able to hear it as well, nobody came.

What should he do? Leaving empty-handed went against everything the very oath he'd sworn but, apart from breaking into the house at the risk of being arrested, there was nothing else he could do. Not with Isabella throwing a wrench into his plans. Why did she do that? Why didn't she want him to see his patient? Why didn't she want him to take proper care of her uncle? Five minutes of standing on their doorstep later and he was still no closer to an answer to any of those questions.

So he left again, his whole visit cut short to ten minutes of open warfare on the front steps before he was back in his car, determined to never again let it come as far as it had; to never again feel disappointed by her coldness or slighted by her hostility. Whatever foolish crush he might have started to develop for the strange girl, it was over now. He would be damned if he ever gave her a shot at getting to him again.

Isabella Swan was dead to him.

For real, this time.

Determined to cash in on his newfound strength, he pulled out of the driveway, his voice barking commands into his headset as he waited for his phone to dial and the call to be picked up.

"Hello?"

The cheerful voice immediately evaporated his anger, his shoulders relaxing as he smiled. "Rachel? Hi, how are you doing?" His rental car effortlessly navigated through the sharp turns and steep slopes of the mountainous territory as he talked through the common pleasantries.

His weight pressed down against the smooth leather upholstery and his smile widened as Rachel let out a little girlish squeal. "I was hoping you'd call me!"

"And here I am," he grinned back. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. You know? Just getting ready for my shift." His confidence surged with every word she said, the knowledge that with Rachel, at least, his presence wasn't just welcome, but very much encouraged, erasing some of the bitterness Isabella's acerbic rebuffal had left behind.

"Hey," he paused, his mind momentarily taken up with the navigation of a particularly sharp turn. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner with me sometime…"

Thoughts?