A/N: *hugs* for all of you who've had to watch a loved one die. I lost my sister eleven years ago (holy crap...really?) after a ten year battle with Huntington's Disease. I've been around when two grandparents died. Death is a part of life, but it sucks.

Watching the attendants wrap his mother's body was probably the worst part. That was the moment it struck Edward that his mother was well and truly gone - completely out of his reach. The body being taken out of the house was a husk, a shell. Everything that made Esme herself was no longer part of the physical world.

Edward had always taken for granted that his mother would be there. When he spent so much time away from his family, he always knew he could come home. He always knew his parents, his mother would be there.

Now he was home, but home would never be complete again.

He couldn't dwell, though. When his mother was borne away, his father fell apart. Carlisle babbled at first - a long list of things they had to do, none of which could be done at two in the morning. Still, he ticked them off on his fingers, his eyes staring forward, unseeing.

"Dad," Alice said.

When Carlisle went on as if he hadn't heard, Edward squeezed his arm. "Dad."

Carlisle stilled.

And crumpled.

Between them, Alice and Edward managed to lead him to bed. Not his bed; none of them were prepared for that, but to Alice's.

When Edward and Alice were children, it was Esme who was gone on business from time to time. Cities would contact her from across the country, and she would do a little consultation work. It was a week or two here and there when it would be just Carlisle and his children.

Every once in a while, especially when Esme was gone, Alice would get horrendous nightmares. She would wake up sobbing, and Carlisle would come lay down with her. Not to be left out, Edward usually ended up in his sister's room as well, curling up under the covers. They would fall asleep like this - both children clinging to their father.

Now they squeezed into the same bed again. It didn't matter that Edward and Alice were grown. They clung to each other. Alice cuddled Carlisle, and they both cried. Edward held on to his father and sister for a long time until they finally cried themselves into an exhausted sleep.

It was bizarre how Edward's body could feel so drained, so devoid of energy and yet his mind wouldn't let him rest. There was that too familiar helplessness again - the same restless energy that had made him tear open raw wounds to find Bella again because it was the only thing he could do for his mother.

What now? What could he do?

When he was sure Carlisle and Alice were deeply asleep, Edward carefully eased himself out of bed. He busied himself for minutes, finding a spare blanket to put over them. That done, he began to wander aimlessly.

Lost in his thoughts, it took Edward some time to figure out he was hearing soft weeping. Quickly, he turned on his heel and poked his head in Alice's room, but she and Carlisle were both still sleeping, if not peacefully than at least without the awareness the oppressive grief brought with it.

The sound, Edward discovered, was coming from Carlisle's office. It was Bella, he figured out belatedly, but when he stepped up to the door, he saw that Bella wasn't alone. She was sitting at the window seat, cradled in Jasper's arms.

"You're okay, sugar. You're okay."

His fingers were in her hair, her head tucked up against her shoulder.

Something churned in Edward's gut, a different kind of discomfort, bile that burned in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched in fists at his side, and he almost charged into the room.

Bella's wavering voice stopped him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Bella." Jasper pulled back and wiped the tears off her face with gentle strokes of his fingertips. "I get the feeling you've needed a hug for a while now."

Turning away from the door, Edward stumbled a few feet down the hallway. He leaned up against the wall, tilting his head back.

The world he lived in was so warped.

Bella was his wife. He should be the one holding her. He should not have been the reason she needed to be held so badly.

He'd tried to tell himself she didn't care. If she really cared for Esme, she would have been there. All this time, he'd conveniently ignored the fact that Esme was his own mother, and he'd still stayed away though he loved and cared for her.

Esme gave Bella a mother's love when Renee had left her behind, unwanted. These last few months would have been hell on her anyway, but he'd made it so much worse. She'd had no one. It was true he'd never intended to take her friends away, but what choice had he left her with? Would any of them really understand what she was doing?

His throat felt tight when he remembered Emmett's accusing eyes. "I can't say I'd be surprised at this point if she ends up missing or dead so you can collect on the insurance money."

And he hadn't even known the half of it.

Edward thought his heart couldn't get any heavier. It was a creative organ, he thought to himself, constantly figuring out new ways to ache.

And his thoughts were so snarled up in his head, Edward couldn't honestly say he knew which way was up at that point. He was drowning.

"Oh, Edward."

Edward looked over to see Bella and Jasper had come out of Carlisle's office. Bella had her hand to her heart. "You scared me," she said on a breath. "I didn't know you were awake."

"I haven't slept," Edward said, his tone dull.

Jasper's eyes were cautious, but he nodded at Edward. "How's Carlisle?"

"Not good." Edward shook his head slowly. "But he's asleep. So is Alice. Looks like you're in the guest room."

"I can handle that. Daddies come first."

Edward pushed himself off the wall and almost instantly stumbled forward.

Bella was by his side in an instant, her arm around his waist. "Look at you,. Edward. You're going to fall over." She tightened her grip on him, leading him forward. "Come on. If you can't sleep, you should at least lie down."

She looked over her shoulder long enough to say goodnight and thank Jasper one more time before she guided Edward up the stairs and into their room.

Lost in broken, not-quite-coherent thoughts, Edward didn't say anything at first. When she pushed him gently, he sat on the bed. She only hesitated a moment before she sunk down on her knees before him, beginning to untie his shoelaces.

Edward's heart twisted for different reasons now.

In spite of the hell he'd put her through, she was still taking care of him. It was a level of kindness he almost couldn't comprehend, and he certainly didn't deserve.

Reaching down, he fitted his palm to her cheek. With her hand cupped around his shoe to take it off, she froze and looked up at him slowly.

She was waiting for his anger; he could see it in her eyes. She was watching, unsure of how he was going to react.

He wanted to be angry. Anger was preferable to this unfathomable grief. But even the idea of anger made him tired, so tired. For all it burned - hot as fire - anger left him cold at his core. Maybe he could blame it on Bella that he hadn't gotten to see his mother's last truly conscious moments, but it wasn't her fault. He'd dragged her into this mess. If he hadn't been playing at marriage, Esme never would have ordered him away from her side.

Edward didn't have any words left. He had so much to say to her, but he didn't know how to begin.

Instead of speaking, he took her hands, tugging until she got the idea and got up off the floor. He pulled her down onto the bed. She was already barefoot, or he would have swapped places, taken care of her at least that little bit. As it was, he kicked off his own shoes. Leaning forward, he tilted his head forward, resting it against hers. "Will you stay with me?"

It was selfish to ask; he knew it was. Still, he didn't think he could stand being alone in his bed tonight. He wanted to let go of consciousness, but he wouldn't if left to his own devices.

Who knew when it had happened, but Bella was his shelter, the dry, steady land that promised refuge from raging sea.

How quickly life could change. That morning she'd been a volcano on his horizon: terrible beauty promising impending destruction. Now the anger was a memory. It had no tangible power, eclipsed as it was by the sheer mass of the loss he felt.

For once in these long months, he didn't have the strength to pretend he didn't want Bella back in his arms.

Bella looked confused. "Where else am I going to go?"

"No, I mean... Will you stay with me? Here?"

She studied him for a moment, but she nodded. "Of course."

Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He turned down the covers on one side of the bed, looking at her expectantly. Bella crawled under the covers.

He hated the trepidation in her eyes. She was still waiting for him to explode it seemed. With his anger as broken as the rest of him for the moment, he could see clearly that he'd done a number on her.

Sighing inwardly, he climbed into bed. He scooted close to her, desperate for the warmth of her body, and put a hand lightly at her waist. He looked up into her eyes, hoping against hope she wasn't uncomfortable with his touch, his nearness.

Bella only lifted her hand to his cheek, then his hair. The tightness around her eyes gentled, and all he saw before she reached back to shut off the light was tenderness in her expression.

Shuddering - he hadn't understood how much he needed that slight bit of affection until he had it - Edward scooted close enough that their bodies were brushing. Neither of them had bothered to get undressed.

With Bella's fingers running through his hair, after what had to be the longest day of his life, Edward finally fell asleep.

~0~

Bella woke suddenly, knowing something was wrong.

It took her a full minute to blink sleep away. She was unnaturally tired - the kind of tired that only happened when she had been pulled out of slumber prematurely. It was a confusing space to be in because the light was strong in the room. It was full on morning now, which meant she should have been closer to being awake.

There was a heaviness at her lungs, squeezing her heart, that made Bella press a hand to her chest. She ached. It was a strange pain - physical and yet...

Her eyes flew open.

It was a different world than the one she'd woken up to.

It felt as though her heart was made of glass, and when the realization that Esme's illness and death were real settled like a stone slab on her chest, it shattered. The jagged pieces tore violently into her lungs knocking her breathless. There were sharp shards digging into her side, her throat...the hollow place her heart used to be.

And there was a sound so filled with sorrow, Bella wanted to weep.

Edward, she realized.

For the second time in her life she had fallen asleep in Edward's arms. Then she'd fallen asleep with a heavy heart and a lump in her throat too, but Edward had been blissfully oblivious of what she was about to do to him.

He was far from blissful now.

The sorrow-filled sound she heard was his soft crying. His eyes were closed, but his entire face, his body, screamed his distress. He was mumbling, "Momma," over and over and over.

Hand on his shoulder, Bella gave him a shake. "Edward. Wake up."

Edward came awake with a start, blinking red-rimmed eyes at her. He looked so much like a lost little boy then, his shoulders hunched as if he'd just woken from a nightmare crying for a mother that would never come.

For a handful of seconds, he breathed in and out slowly, as though he were about to get control of himself, but Bella wasn't sure that was a good idea. As much as it twisted her heart to see him like this, he needed a good cry. He hadn't cried at all the day before.

Snuggling closer to him, she moved her hand to the nape of his neck, stroking his hair and skin. "Let go," she whispered, her lips near his ear. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

His breath hitched, and he clutched her suddenly. "It's not," he said raggedly. "It's really not."

He was right. It wasn't.

She held him, and he held her. His tears came on slowly, his grief pouring out as his arms tightened around her. Bella closed her eyes, letting a tear fall, but she breathed in deep knowing he needed someone to be strong for him.

"Shh, shh," she murmured, kissing the side of his hair. "She's not in pain anymore. That's the important thing, right?"

"I want her back. I just want her back." His voice was muffled against her shoulder.

"I know. I know."

Edward growled suddenly and pulled back. His eyes were closed against the tears that continued to fall. "I don't... I don't want..."

Instead of speaking, his body lurched. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her. Bella gave a little yelp. Her mind went blank.

Her mind went blank.

And suddenly, she was on exactly the same page. She knew what he wanted.

Grief was a suffocating, consuming emotion. It was an agony that couldn't be soothed. There was no choice but to live and breathe through it until it passed. Weeks. Months. Years. Who knew how long this pain would have him, have them, and this day was the apex of that pain. It was unbearable and maddening.

Inescapable.

Death so often brought on neediness in the ones left behind. Bella was Edward's comfort. She knew she was. If she wasn't, he wouldn't have clung to her as he had the night, the day before. As Jasper had pointed out, she was starved for physical affection.

They could do this. Helplessness left behind a kinetic energy that cried out to be spent. They were lost in an overabundance of emotion. The panacea, however brief a respite it might grant, was something physical.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

Exactly the way Edward was kissing her, was clutching her shoulders, pulling her roughly against him.

Bella gave in readily, returning his kisses and touches with equal fervency. There was a flurry of motion: the tugging and pulling and yanking of clothing. Then Edward's hand was between her legs and hers was wrapped around his cock.

Their bodies moved in tandem, all instinct and pent up emotion. He pushed her onto her back, and she gave him that control easily. Her legs spread to accept him, and he pushed into her without preamble. This wasn't an act of love or desire, but it wasn't bad.

It was nice to feel not bad. It was nice that the world, so overwhelming and out of control at the moment, dwindled down to just the two of them and the space they moved in. It was even nice to give herself over to the physicality of the experience. There was an ache, a burn inside her, because it had been a while. The feel of him inside her, thick and hot, was exquisite.

Then she made the mistake of opening her eyes, and the thoughts she'd been outrunning cried out for attention.

This was not some random body. This was Edward. Whatever this was or wasn't about, they had a complicated history.

His eyes opened only a handful of seconds after hers, and Bella could tell the moment what he was doing caught up with him. Their rhythm had been aggressive; outrunning grief wasn't an easy task by any means. They'd worked up a frantic momentum. But when he looked at her, the atmosphere between them shifted, their movements slowed.

Just like that, their bodies were having the conversation they'd been avoiding. What was sex, after all, besides a means of communication. It was why making love was so much more powerful an act than a random encounter with a stranger.

Edward shuddered, closing the distance between them again and claiming her lips. It was a hard kiss, demanding, and his hips pinned her down to the bed.

Why did you do it? Can't you feel this? Why did you destroy us before we could really begin?

She pressed the tiniest of kisses against his neck, a mere brush of her lips, and rocked her hips against his. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was young and stupid and proud. I've regretted it every day since then. Every day. I'd do anything to take it back. Anything.

Shifting, she bent her knees and wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his back. But why did you treat me like trash? She threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough that he gasped. Why did you remember me by the worst thing I'd ever done? Why did you forget every day except that day?

She buried her head at his neck, biting down on his skin ever so slightly.

Why was every good day, all our best days, so easy to forget?

Reaching back, he took her hands and pinned them to the mattress on either side of her head. He kissed her again, rocking into her with quick strokes. This kiss was gentler. An apology.

I'm sorry. I don't hate you. I'm sorry I tried to.

She kissed him back, threading their fingers together, raising her hips to his.

I'm sorry, too. I don't hate you. I won't.

Bella squeezed around him, coaxing him to orgasm as she nipped at his lips. His breath was hot against her mouth, and when he was spent, his body was heavy on hers. She didn't mind the weight. It was reassuring somehow.

A strange peace settled over her then. The pain of loss was still there, but it was, for the moment, quiet. She and Edward still had so much to talk about. Laying there with him, Bella had no idea what would happen, or what she wanted to happen with them, and she knew there was no shortage of things that would need to be dealt with soon.

Nothing was solved. Nothing was settled.

But something was better.

Whatever this was, it didn't hurt, and that was something.

Edward kissed her, a soft, quick, sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth before he rolled to the side. She came with him, brushing her fingers across his cheek so he would know she felt this change - whatever it was.

"Can you sleep?" she asked, her voice scratchy.

He looked uncertain. "I should probably get up." It sounded as though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"The house is still quiet." She brushed her fingers through his hair. "Sleep. Just for a little while longer."

He sighed, but his eyes closed almost immediately. "Bella?" The word was a mumble; he was already mostly gone.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

A/N: Sooooo... that happened. Don't look at me. I don't have control over them. I'm just the author.

Thank you to songster and barburella. And thanks to all of you for your response to this story.

What are we thinking, hmm?