A/N ~ FFN is being a pain with sending alerts out, they're generally doing nothing, then start going out around 6hrs after I've posted. My posting schedule is in the morning, around 6am UK time during the week - possibly an hour or two later at weekends ;) - so if you're at a loose end, it's always worth popping on to see.

Thanks to everybody who is reading, reviewing or supporting this story. I started it with the aim of getting into writing again and it's definitely achieved that. If anybody has enjoyed it along the way, so much the better :)

41

"Hi, it's me," I say. I have no idea why in this age of caller display, I still feel I have to verify my identity.

"Hey." Her voice is quiet and a little huskier than usual.

"Did I wake you?" I ask.

"Yeah, but it's fine. I fell asleep putting Jimmy to bed." I hear her breath stutter loudly for a moment and picture her stretching. "Let me move, I don't want to wake him."

Background noises filter through; rustling, doors opening and closing gently, a TV on low and then silence.

"Ok, we're good," she says. Her voice is louder, but still swaddled by sleep.

"I'm sorry again about today," I say. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, we did. Jimmy loved the mountains."

"I guess it's a little different from Arizona," I say, smiling.

"He's become obsessed with the color green and we spotted some deer just off the trail, so he was happy," she tells me with a small laugh. "How was your day?"

"It started okay and went downhill," I tell her. "I took Sasha to my mom's, then I fought with Kate."

"Over me?" She sounds worried. The old Izzy wouldn't have given a flying fuck whether her actions impacted on other people.

"No, I think we both just had a tough week. She asked me to have Sasha overnight on Friday while she goes on a date."

"A date? Good for her," she says. I'm quiet as I wonder why that wasn't my first sentiment. Probably because of how she threw it at me. "You're not happy about it," Izzy says, reading my silence. It's not a question.

"No," I admit.

"Because of Sasha or because of Kate?" she asks. I've hardly begun to consider my answer when she throws in another option. "Or is it your pathological fear of change?"

She giggles and I'm reminded that our history means she knows things about me that not everybody does. Things that whisper of our intertwined past.

"I don't even know," I admit, laughing softly too as familiarity warms me.

"You're not fifteen anymore, Edward," she says softly. "Do the adult thing, here."

"When did you become the sensible one?" I ask her, my mind flitting back across every irresponsible act she led me into.

"When I held my mom's hand for the last time and promised to look after Jimmy." she says.

"I'm sorry, Iz," I tell her softly, the shortened form of her name slipping as easily from my tongue as it always did.

"Me too," she says with a sigh. "I sometimes wonder if it's God's way of punishing me for all the bad stuff I did," she confesses.

"How long have you believed in God?" I ask teasingly.

"Since so much shit happened that didn't make any sense," she says without humor.

I feel the urge to reach out to her creeping through me, a wave of fear racing right up behind it and washing it away.

"You sound like you could use a friend," I say.

"Are you volunteering?" she asks.

"I'm thinking about it," I say. "I need to make sure I'm not going to get burnt again. I don't forget as easily as I forgive."

She sighs.

"I wish I'd known what I was doing to you at the time."

"You knew," I tell her. "You didn't care."

"I cared; I cared too much, I was just too misguided to deal with it."

Silence again. I have no idea how to react. This conversation goes against every rule of not raking over the past. I feel the ache begin, and just like I always did, I pick at it.

"Tell me something from after you left," I say.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I missed. Tell me something about you that happened while you were gone; something I don't know."

She's quiet.

"Iz?" I prompt, my voice barely above a whisper as I wait. I have no idea why I'm torturing myself like this.

She clears her throat.

"I used to sing How to Save a Life to Jimmy every night to get him to sleep," she whispers. My heartbeat fills the silence in my ears. And then, "Your turn."

I open my eyes and rest my head back against the couch, preparing to trade her secret for one of mine.

"I've never been able to listen to that song since you walked away from me," I tell her.

~S~