A/N: My mojo has been sickly lately. For any of you who are reading Table 7, I'd appreciate it if you sent good vibes in the direction of that fic... or Good Vibrations for that matter. Neither of them want to work for me.

BUT. That means you get more CB, so... onwards! *hugs*

Edward woke up slowly, disoriented. His thoughts were fuzzy, which was probably a good thing considering the way his head was pounding. Thinking only could have made it worse.

It took about five seconds for the haze of sleep to leave him and reality to hit him like a punch to the gut, rendering him breathless.

For the second time, Edward had awoken in a world where his mother didn't exist. For the second time, he realized he would wake up in that world for the rest of his life.

Just like the first time, the thought was too much to bear. Unlike the first time, Edward was distracted by the rest of his memories catching up to him.

He was naked. And sticky. And alone in his bed.

Of course he was alone. Three hours has passed since he woke up the first time, and it had already been morning then. There was no doubt everyone else was already up and about, facing this day - the first day of the rest of their new lives.

Grabbing his towel, Edward stumbled toward the bathroom. There, he leaned forward, resting his head against the cool tile as the hot water coursed over him, soothing his headache at the very least.

Three thoughts played on repeat in his head. The first was a fervent wish. He didn't want to have to live through the next few days of his life. He didn't want to call friends and relatives. He didn't want to plan a funeral. He didn't want to attend a funeral and have to listen to people tell him how sorry they were.

The second thought was a simple analysis. The desolation he felt in the space his heart used to occupy was maddening. Of course, he knew the old standby. It would get better with time, but he was at that point where he couldn't believe that line. It was a terrifying idea - that he would feel this way for all the rest of his life.

He heard his mother's voice in his head, a few of her very last words to him.

You're holding on to the past with both hands and all your toes.

Was he doomed by his nature to hold on to this pain?

But even the pain of losing Bella had faded to a point. He hadn't forgotten, obviously, but it hadn't always been so much a part of him as it had been these last months.

Which brought him around to his third thought.

For better or worse, he didn't regret having sex with Bella. He wasn't quite sure what he did feel, but he knew he wouldn't take it back even if he could have.

Getting out of the shower, Edward wrapped himself in his towel and stood still. He couldn't quite summon the courage to face the day. Instead, he glanced in the mirror and stared as if his reflection was holding all his gumption.

He was not the same man he'd been the morning before.

Edward dressed slowly and finally made his way downstairs. He stopped just outside the kitchen. The smell of breakfast permeated the air, but it didn't make him hungry like it would have any other day. He lingered outside the door, listening for a moment.

"How about some toast or oatmeal, Carlisle? Something easy." Bella's voice was coaxing. Alice had told Edward the day before that their father hadn't eaten all day. Apparently, he was continuing that trend. "You should at least have a bite of something."

"He doesn't have to eat if he doesn't want to," Alice snapped.

Edward bristled, but Bella just cleared her throat, ignoring his sister. "I'll get you some juice."

Taking a deep breath, Edward finally entered the kitchen just as Bella set an orange juice in front of Carlisle. She looked up, her expression gentle when their eyes met.

For a beat, it was clear neither of them knew what to say. Bella broke the silence first. "Do you want some breakfast?"

Edward pulled out a chair for her. "Why don't you sit down. Let me get you breakfast, and I'll eat if you will."

She seemed surprised, but when she sat, she smiled at him. "Yeah. Okay."

~0~

The next five days simultaneously crawled and sped by.

Typically, when there was so much to be done, time went too quickly. The problem with things like this, when every task was a chore no one wanted to do, was that he knew the measure of every minute, every second of time.

All of them resented the necessity of these tasks. What they wanted was Esme back with them so these things wouldn't need to be done. Personally, if he couldn't have his mother back, Edward wanted the right to curl up in a little ball and not have to acknowledge anything else in the world besides his misery.

The first day, when they all walked out of the mortuary after planning Esme's funeral, Bella had offered a comforting bit of perspective. "It feels better in a way. I felt so helpless when she was suffering and there was nothing I could do. This, at least, is something I can do for her."

There was some solace in that thought, Edward reflected. It was a special kind of hell watching a loved one succumb to disease, wasting away right in front of your eyes while you're absolutely powerless to stop it.

He'd taken her hand, squeezing her fingers tightly on the drive home.

Everyone who needed to be called was called. Esme's nieces, Edward and Alice's cousins, flew in from Alaska to stay for a few days.

Esme's sister had died in a plane accident when Edward was young, taking her youngest child, the only boy, with her. Tanya, Katrina, and Irina had been adopted by their godparents, Carmen and Eleazar.

Since they hadn't been able to make the wedding, they had a few awkward moments. They offered Edward their condolences on his mother's passing and in the next breath their congratulations on his marriage.

They adored Bella.

She was, Esme had always said, easy to love.

For his part, Edward honestly had no idea how he would have gotten through those five days without her. His family was falling apart.

Most of the time, Carlisle wandered around in a daze. He was a facsimile of himself. This was what became of people who lived fairytale romances, Edward thought. Being half of a whole was only a romantic idea as long as both pieces lived. With Esme gone, Carlisle was shaken to his core.

Of everything, Alice was having the most trouble dealing with the stranger her father had become. Edward understood that completely. They might have been grown, but they were still Carlisle's children. They wanted their father to be strong for them. Accepting that a parent was human, fallible, conquerable, was difficult.

So Alice and Jasper took off for the better part of most days, leaving Edward and Bella to care for Carlisle by themselves.

As for Edward, he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, getting through each minute, each hour, each day.

Every night when they retreated to their room, Edward thought about how, if Bella wasn't by his side, he would have fallen by now. What he wanted was to ask her to stay with him again. He wanted her back in his bed. He wanted her sheltering arms around him, and her fingers soft in his hair. But every day left him so drained, he had no words left. He would watch her from the couch or the bed until his eyelids wouldn't stay open anymore.

~0~

On the day of Esme's funeral, the sun came out, making the world shine a vibrant green. Bella wasn't sure if it was appropriate. Why should Forks break its near constant state of mourning gray clouds and rain on today of all days? But still, it seemed fitting. Esme had always been such a vibrant presence.

Esme's body had been cremated the night before, so the remembrance and wake was held in the Cullens' ample backyard. Bella didn't know if she should feel out of place where she was, sitting beside Edward in the front row. She'd offered to sit with her mother, father and Sue who were two rows back, behind Esme's nieces, but Edward had only twined their fingers together, keeping her firmly by his side.

When Carlisle had said he wanted to speak, no one had argued. Privately, Bella wondered how he was going to do it. He'd hardly uttered a word since his wife's death, and he had trouble concentrating for more than a minute at a time.

He walked like a man much older than his 52 years when he moved from his seat to the front of the gathered people. Everyone was quiet while he breathed deep, composing himself. His fingers brushed the ornate urn that held her ashes, and Carlisle swayed, looking for a moment like he was about to fall.

Straightening his shoulders, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"My dear Esme.

"It's been so strange having you gone these last few days. This house remembers your laughter, your voice, and it seemed so incomplete without you there.

"Last night, I carried you home in my hands. I thought that might make me feel better, just having a part of you home again would fill some of that empty space, but it didn't. It doesn't."

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath before he could continue. He lifted his head, looking over to his children. "Alice, you asked me why your mother didn't tell me what she wanted for today. I couldn't answer you because the words sounded wrong.

"When we knew this day was coming faster than we ever would have wanted, your mother told me that funerals weren't for the dead. She said she would be beyond want. She said, 'I want you and our children to do whatever you need to do to feel better, to feel comfort.'

"Standing in the mortuary, I didn't think it was possible to find comfort from a day like today." He looked again to the urn, and his lips lifted ever so slightly. "As usual, sweet girl, you knew exactly the right thing.

"Today, I've listened to the music our son chose to commemorate you, and I heard the way he saw you. I wouldn't have thought songs existed that could capture your beautiful spirit, your incredible capacity to love, or the peace you brought our lives, but he's found them. I hear you again."

Edward's hand trembled in hers, and Bella tightened her fingers around him.

"The... pain I feel at your loss left my world dull, black," Carlisle continued. "But today, our backyard is vibrant and colorful again because this is how our daughter saw you. This is more you - full of life. I see you again.

"Since we learned of your illness, I've been so angry. I think of all the moments you should have lived to see. I think about how you won't be there to see our daughter get married. Our grandchildren won't know you. I get so angry because it isn't fair that fate cheated you out of these things, simple things." His voice shook, and he closed his eyes again.

"But today, for the first time since she chose them, I looked at the pictures and the poem Bella, the girl we have loved and cherished as our own since she was tiny, used for your program."

Bella started, not expecting to hear her name. This time it was Edward who squeezed her hand. The poem she'd chosen spoke of being released from the burdens of illness so the author could continue to watch over their family without tethers.

"Those pictures reminded me of what I should have always known. You haven't left us, sweet girl. On those days when I'm watching our children's lives unfold, I will miss your touch the most. You're the only only one who would understand the pride and awe I feel when I watch our children. But now, on those days, though I'll miss your hand in mine, I will know you are beside me, looking back and smiling."

~0~

As afternoon turned into evening and the house grew quiet again, Bella happened to overhear a conversation between the two eldest of the sisters from Alaska.

"Do you think he'll love again?" Irina asked.

"That's a hard one," Tanya said softly, sounding sad. "Carlisle has so much love to give. I hope he'll love again.

"But either way, it won't be the same. No other woman will have all of his heart. Part of him will love Esme just as much the day he dies as he does today."

Irina sounded wistful when she spoke again. "Some love does last forever."

"That's why we keep trying, right?"

Bella jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to find Edward there behind her. He looked so exhausted, she forgot about the sisters instantly.

Reaching out to him, she took his hand. "Do you want to go to bed?"

He nodded and followed her obediently when she pulled him up the stairs.

Neither of them spoke, but Edward didn't let her go when they got into the room. He reached behind her, pulling down the zipper of her dress. Bella's heart beat quicker, and she wondered if they were going to end up in bed, tangled up together again. She couldn't say she would say no. Part of her was desperate to lose her sad thoughts, outrun her heavy heart, in fit of frantic movement. Maybe when grief wasn't coloring every thought she had, she might realize what they'd done, what they might be doing again, wasn't wise, but for now...

But when her dress puddled to the floor, he only gathered her in his arms, holding her close.

Getting the idea quickly, Bella loosened his tie and unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt. She let go of him only long enough to kick off her shoes and stockings while he stripped out of his pants.

They climbed into bed in their underwear, and climbed into each others arms.

This was a different kind of comfort. Sex might have spent the energy that rattled in their blood, but this kind of all encompassing touch brought with it solace. They were skin to skin, bringing warmth to the cold that went bone deep. Bella could feel his heartbeat against her chest. Grief was such an alienating emotion, but flesh against flesh, how could they feel alone?

Edward ducked his head, his nose skimming along her hairline, inhaling deeply. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her lips.

They fell asleep breathing each other in.

A/N: When my sister died, after a decade long illness, I was much more relieved than sad. I thought... now she can finally watch her son grow up. Now she can stand and dance and smile. She couldn't in life because those were the cards she was dealt, but now she can. I don't believe in heaven and hell, but I do believe in SOMETHING, and I do believe my sister is there.

Helping my mother and brother-in-law plan her funeral, even though I hate funerals with a fiery passion, helped a lot.

*hugs to everyone*

Thank you so much to Songster for her help. And thanks to all of you for your love and your kind words.

They gotta figure out the rest of their lives when we come back. Are you ready? Fuck. Am I?