SM still owns Twilight. The voices are still mine.

Chapter Twelve: Uncovered

How does a mother leave her child?

In the middle of the night?

Or at all?

I've asked myself this question a thousand times.

A thousand different ways.

Ten thousand.

More.

How does she do it?

To leave a man...

A husband, even...

I guess I could fathom.

Maybe.

If he was abusive.

Hurtful.

Cruel.

But my father wasn't any of those things to my mother.

My mother who left us.

Her husband.

And her child.

Would she have left me if there was no him?

Would she have left him if there was no me?

I think I know the answer to that.

I had to wait a long time for it...

But I think I got it.

It's me.

I'm leavable.

Inspiring, even.

I make them want to move.

Go...

And now I've opened the door.

Again.

Let someone else in...

Which, in turn...

Is just an invitation to go.

The coming is a warning.

Like the U-Haul still parked in Edward's driveway.

It warned me he was here.

The U-Haul I stare at through my office window.

I came in to get a book.

Because I couldn't sleep.

And Figaro followed me.

And, after investigating the space he's rarely let into, he climbed up the chair and jumped right into the window.

Probably hoping it was open.

Because he wants out.

Or something.

An option.

To go.

Even though he stays.

I give him his freedom.

And it must be enough for him.

Because he never goes very far.

And he always comes back.

For me.

And him, I hope.

Because he's happy here.

And next door.

Where he invited himself last night.

Followed Edward right through his front door.

As he carried a box.

And found one for himself inside.

An empty one that he jumped right into.

Like the window.

Where he sits looking next door.

Like I do.

At the U-Haul trailer.

That warned me of his arrival.

Will it warn me when he's leaving?

Or will I be the one that's gone?

This time.

First.

Before.

Against my will.

And my heart.

Forced to leave my child...

Sort of.

Figaro.

My cute little cat.

That I love.

And would never leave.

For more than a few minutes.

Would never abandon.

Ever.

And he's only a cat.

How does a mother leave her child?

...

"Going somewhere?"

"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me! Again! What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Or you could answer mine."

"Where are you going, Bella?"

"You're off duty, Agent Cullen. You should relax. And sleep, for God's sake."

"An interesting suggestion, coming from the woman sneaking to her car at two o'clock in the morning."

"Sneaking? I'm not sneaking."

"Not now that you've been caught."

"You're the only one that's been caught. What are you doing outside of my house at two o'clock in the morning? Again, I might add."

"I asked you where you were going, Bella, and I want an answer."

His words aren't playful.

Aren't arrogant or cocky.

Not in the way they usually are.

And aren't merely inquisitive.

This isn't on-duty Agent Cullen before me.

I think it's just Edward.

Edward the man.

Who's claimed a territory that he thinks is being threatened.

Or something...

And I can't answer him honestly.

But I wish I could.

Because the look in his eyes hurts me.

Uncovers something.

In him.

Something I've never seen.

And that I want to take it away.

"Nowhere, really. I just couldn't sleep. And I was just going to go for a drive... pick up a carton of ice cream."

"Ice cream? At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Yeah. I-"

"And where would you get ice cream at this time?"

He doesn't believe me.

Not that he should...

But he doesn't.

And he doesn't know why he shouldn't...

But the reasons he doesn't are things I'm not guilty of.

And wouldn't be...

Not now.

But still...

"Well, there aren't many choices, of course. But there's a grocery store that's open 24 hours. And drug stores." And I still want to know what he's doing... "So, now that I've answered your question, it's your turn. Why are you out here?"

"Do you often go out for ice cream in the middle of the night?"

"Sometimes. Now, back to you... "

"And do you always look like that when you do it?"

"Look like what?"

"Look like a woman that wants to be noticed."

Is that how I look? Because that's not...

Well...

Shit.

It is and it isn't, I suppose.

But right now it only is.

To him.

And no matter what he's thinking, that's not good.

For me.

And maybe not for him.

Definitely not for him.

Because that look in his eyes...

The one behind his suspicions.

His questions...

Questions that he's tired of waiting for answers for...

"I have ice cream in my freezer, Bella. It's Neapolitan. And it's yours. If that's good enough for you."

Hurts.

More than something else I feel.

The something else that brought me out here.

And that will have to wait.

And that I hope will just go away.

The thing that I thought had.

But came back.

The thing...

The clawing...

That I don't want to claim me.

Anymore.

Because something else has.

Something that I do...

Want.

"Just what I would have chosen, Edward."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is."

He looks to my car.

Then to the keys in my hand.

Then back to my face.

And I don't know what he's thinking now...

But he takes the keys from my hand.

Replaces them with his own.

Hand...

His grip firm.

Strong.

Decisive.

"Then let's go get it."

I nod and let him pull me across the grass.

From my driveway to his.

Further.

Up his porch steps.

Through his unlocked door.

Straight to his kitchen.

To the freezer door.

To the Neapolitan ice cream that sits nearly alone inside.

Coffee is the only other occupant.

And now my eyes flit around the room...

Along the countertops...

Looking...

But finding nothing.

They're empty.

Clear.

He must not have found it yet.

His coffee maker.

And part of me hopes he doesn't.

Anytime soon.

So he needs me.

Mine.

But the other part...

Parts...

Of me...

Every other part of me...

Wants him to...

But come for mine anyway.

For me.

A want I don't want to want.

But do.

So much...

He's staring at me when I look back up at him.

At his breathtakingly beautiful face.

His face that now conceals his thoughts.

His thoughts that are God knows what...

While he holds the ice cream in his hand.

And me in his other.

Mine.

That his grip is still firm on.

And that he pulls again, leading me back the way we came.

But stopping.

Once.

Before a stack of boxes that his pack of cigarettes lie on top of.

I pick them up, not needing to be told, and then he moves again.

To the front door.

And through it.

Dragging me behind him.

Firmly but gently.

Purposefully.

Back down his porch steps...

Back down the driveway...

Back across the grass...

Up my porch steps...

To my front door that he drops my hand to open with my key.

And waits for me to step through.

Before he follows me in and kicks it shut with his foot.

Grabs me and slams me against.

Not hard...

Well...

Not too hard.

Not to hurt...

But to claim.

Take back.

I think.

I feel.

As his body slams against mine.

And his lips hover.

His breath.

Over mine.

Whisper...

Hard.

Not soft.

"The next time you can't sleep... and need something... in the middle of the fucking night... you come to me. Tell me."

And I can't tell him what I needed...

I can't ever tell him.

And he could never give it to me.

What I think he knows wasn't ice cream...

But I nod.

Agree.

Because I want him to think I would.

And that he could.

Give me what I needed.

And that he can.

And that he can trust me.

Even though he shouldn't.

I want him to.

I want him.

And want him to know.

What I thought he already did.

But what his eyes and his questions and his suspicions made me doubt.

And him.

I want him.

Him, whose mouth I pull to mine.

Attack.

Assault.

With my eyes open.

Like his.

That are still searching for truth.

Truth I want him to find.

See.

Feel.

As my fingers pull his hair.

Pull him.

Closer.

And my body...

Pinned to the door by his.

But still crushes against him.

Needing him to know.

To believe.

His.

That crushes back.

So hard I think he'll push me right through the wood.

And then not.

Not at all.

Gone...

His weight.

His pressure.

His mouth.

His hair from my needy grip.

They've all left me.

Alone with his stare.

And his voice.

An order...

"Go change."

"What?"

My question is breathless.

Stupid.

Confused.

"Go change. Your clothes. Take them off. Put on something else. Something comfortable. Something that only I would pay attention to you in. Something you should be wearing at two o'clock in the fucking morning. And do it now. And wash that mask off of your face. I want to see you bare when you come back to me."

The clawing answers him before I can.

Wants me to.

Answer him.

For it.

Not for leaving.

Like the others.

But for being here.

For wanting to be.

And because I want him to be.

The clawing doesn't.

Doesn't like him.

Wants me to tell him...

Instead of what I do.

"Okay, Edward."

His eyes follow me as I push away from the door...

Walk slowly past him...

And down the hall.

I can feel them.

Boring into me.

Still relentless as I turn on the light and step into the bathroom.

Sense them coming nearer as I wash the makeup from my face.

The mask...

That he wants to see beneath.

See me without.

And I know it's not about the makeup...

It's about what it represents.

To him.

And why I chose to put it on at two o'clock in the morning to go get ice cream.

That he knows wasn't why.

Wasn't what I wanted.

Needed.

Though he doesn't know what was.

He only thinks he does.

Or thought he did.

And when I come out, I find what I expected.

What I felt.

Him.

Near.

In the hallway.

Against the wall.

Arms crossed.

Eyes...

Studying me.

Piercing.

Through me.

I start to speak...

To ask him what he needs...

But he silences me with a gesture of his head.

Propelling me towards my bedroom.

Another order...

Or a repeat of the first...

Without a word.

And I follow...

Obey.

Because I'm powerless against him.

And even though I should be terrified...

Of him.

His power.

His need for more...

Over me...

I'm not.

Because as long as he wields it...

Keeps me under it...

At its mercy...

Nothing else can.

That thing...

That thing that so recently made me feel so full of life...

That thing...

That thing is wrong.

Selfish.

Evil.

That thing wants to destroy him.

Wants me to.

And myself.

I know that now...

See it for what it is.

Hate it.

With everything I feel.

And everything I want to feel.

And I won't let it take any more from me...

Any more than it already has.

I won't.

And so I will...

Surrender control...

To him.

For as long as he wants it.

And me.

The one he stopped from being her.

And being claimed by it.

He's not in the hall when I come out of my bedroom.

The me he wanted.

Demanded.

The plain me.

The bare me.

The one that no one would notice.

That no one would pay attention to.

No one but him.

Whose eyes travel over me...

My bare feet.

My sweatpants-covered legs.

My Seahawks t-shirt.

Which he scowls at.

Before smiling at me.

Sort of.

And beckoning me with a finger.

Another order.

Which I obey.

Because I want to.

Want to be near him again.

Closer.

And when I reach where he sits on my couch, he issues another.

Order.

Silent but direct.

He grabs my hand and pulls me down to my knees in front of him.

Makes my heart pound when he chuckles.

Harder than it already was...

"Seahawks fan, are you?"

"Not really... " Why does that matter?

"So, you don't really care about this, then?" he asks, and grips the bottom edge.

"No. It's just a shirt."

"Good," he replies, and lifts it over my head and off of me, throwing it to the floor behind him. "Because I don't like it."

"I can-" I start, but am silenced again when he shakes his head and pulls his sweatshirt off in one swift movement.

He's wearing a t-shirt underneath it, a Bears t-shirt, like the sweatshirt he just removed and is now dressing me in, without so much as a second's glance at my exposed-by-him flesh before he does.

Ouch.

I know I don't have a lot to look at in the breasts department, but I've never experienced a man's complete disinterest before. And his at this moment is in complete contrast to previous moments that I hoped would lead to eventual adoration.

And apparently my hurt and disappointment at that not being now shows clearly on my face - or he's doing that thing he does - because he kisses my nose and pulls me into his lap like the pouting child I've become.

"I made you a promise, and I'll keep it, but right now your ice cream is melting."

Ice cream that was sitting in a bowl on the table and that he now holds up in front of me.

"Are you sure?" I ask. "There's nothing else about me that you find offensive? Nothing else you'd like to change before I take a bite? My hair, perhaps?"

"I didn't like your shirt, Bella... a piece of clothing, nothing more. And I rectified that. And nothing about you could ever be offensive to me... other than your inability, or perhaps more accurately, your unwillingness to be honest and truthful with me. And if I waited until that was rectified - which I assure you it will be - your ice cream would be not only melted, but undoubtedly spoiled. So, eat it. Unless, of course, you never really wanted any in the first place?"

I take the bowl from him, tearing my eyes from the accusatory raise of his perfect brow, and gather a small spoonful.

"Strawberry. Interesting first choice," he quips, as I bring the first bite to my mouth.

"It's ice cream," I sigh, "And I could have chosen any of the three, or all of them at once, and it wouldn't have meant anything. Not everything means something, Edward. And not everything has something else hiding beneath it or behind it."

"No, Bella... not everything. But you do... and I'm going uncover it, I promise you that. I only hope... for me... and for you... that I'm not sorry when I do."

His words send a shiver up my spine.

His promise.

A shiver that he sees.

Feels.

And that I pray he thinks is from the ice cream...

But that I don't think he does.

As I look into his eyes...

His eyes that bore into mine...

Beyond...

Me too, Edward. Me too.

There's light coming from inside of my garage when I pull into my driveway.

Light that I know I didn't leave on.

Never turned on.

Not since...

Edward.

The day he walked in and...

The day before the night that he made a promise...

A promise to uncover...

Me.

Edward is in my garage.

I know it's him.

Know it in the pit of my stomach.

Know it in the depths of my brain.

Know it in my heart...

That's shredding...

As the claws rip through it.

Punishing me.

For denying it...

What it wanted...

Him.

What I chose.

Over it.

I chose him.

And it is...

Him.

In my garage.

I know it in my bones.

That no longer feel connected.

Anywhere.

That won't let me move.

Won't let me run.

To him or away.

Like there's even a choice...

One that wouldn't destroy me.

There's not.

Yes there is. Destroy him.

You're talking to me now?

You're talking to yourself. We're not separate.

Yes we are.

You only wish we were.

We are. And I don't want you here anymore.

Yes you do. I'm the only one that can get you out of this mess you've made.

You made this mess for me.

You brought me here. Because you needed me. And you still need me. And you know what you have to do. So, stop wasting time.

I'm not going to do anything.

It's him or you.

I want it to be him and me. Not or.

You're so stupid! He's only here because of you! And you liked it. Got cocky... and decided you wanted to play with him. But he was better than you. Smarter. And now your little game is over. So, end it! Win, before he does.

No. I'm not hurting him...

You think he won't hurt you? You think he'll hesitate for a second? He won't!

He is. He heard the car. He knows I'm out here. He...

Doesn't give a shit about you! Just like they didn't! And is just waiting for you to go to him. Serve yourself up. Just like you did the day you invited him into your house, and then let him stay when he told you what he was. Wake up, you pathetic bitch! He's been on to you all along! IT'S WHY HE'S HERE. Why he moved in right next door. He played you. He doesn't want you! You were never going to get to keep him! He just wanted you to trust him. And you handed it over the minute he smiled at you. Because you're weak. And stupid. And so desperate to be loved that you fell right into his plan. Threw yourself in... but it's not too late. I can get you out. He won't expect it. Won't see it coming. Doesn't believe you'll fight for yourself. Doesn't think you're strong enough. But you are, as long as I'm here. As long as you listen to me. So, listen. And go make me proud. Prove him wrong!

I close my eyes.

Try to will it away.

The screaming.

The evil.

That I've already let destroy me.

My chances at a normal, happy life.

And that wants me to destroy him.

Him...

Who's waiting to do the same to me just a few feet away.

In my personal space.

My personal hell.

Where the proof of it lies.

But doesn't.

Because he's not waiting anymore...

The door is no longer closed.

To my garage.

Or to me.

They're both wide open.

And there he stands.

Edward.

Right in the middle.

With the proof in his hands.