A/N: Thanks so much for all your lovely thoughts.

This will update again tomorrow, all the way through Friday.

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.

The Future Outtake – Part 2

The at-home pregnancy test this morning took thirty seconds - thirty seconds that stretched out like a lifetime as I watched the little window slowly change from clear to blue and indicate that I am, in fact, expecting a baby.

These fifteen minutes in the cab feel about fifteen million times longer than that.

"They're taking him into surgery…"

Once alone in the cab, calling Mel is my first impulse, but she's in the middle of classes right now, and I don't want to worry her until I have more accurate info.

"They're taking him into surgery…"

Surgery. Surgery means anesthesia. I find myself wondering if anyone mentioned Edward's alcoholism to the anesthesiologist. I'm not sure how that would affect him, and then I curse myself out loud for not knowing and then even louder for wondering about something so stupid right now. All that cursing earns me strange, rear-view mirror glances from the cabbie, but damn, these are things I should know by now – just in case Edward ever decides to fall off a fucking scaffold.

Instead, I call Carlisle. Over the past few years, he's become more like a surrogate father to Edward than just his sponsor. Carlisle wants to meet me at the hospital, but as a psychologist, he has his own appointments to keep. I convince him to wait for me to call him with an update.

The cabbie finally comes to a halt in front of the Emergency entrance. I throw a couple of twenties at him and rush out. The thin straps of my maid-of-honor dress slip off my shoulders, threatening to expose me to the Emergency Room patrons as I run through the automatic, sliding doors.

"Edward Cullen," I say breathlessly, once at the information desk. "He had a scaffolding accident and arrived about an hour ago?"

The clerk types away on his laptop while I rap my knuckles impatiently over the counter.

"Yes, okay, he's in the main building, on-" When he looks up, a huge smile breaks out across his face. "Wait a minute, don't you play Maria in that Broadway show about those rival gangs? I took my girlfriend last week and-"

"What floor?" I screech.

"Oh, sorry. Fifth floor surgery."

He might say something else, and I'm pretty sure I flash a few people as my maid-of-honor dress slips lower off of my shoulders, but I'm running again, and I can't be bothered with making sure that I don't reveal more skin than is usually socially acceptable.

OOOOOOOOOO

As I turn the corner on the fifth floor, I spot my dad and Emmett leaning against a wall opposite a couple of rows of pink, plastic waiting-room chairs.

"Bells!"

Charlie and I meet half way, where he halts my top-speed sprint by clutching my shoulders.

"How's Edward?"

"They just wheeled him out of surgery and are getting him settled into his room. We're waiting for the doctor to-"

Just then, a tall guy in blue scrubs emerges from one of the rooms down the hall and walks our way.

I rush to him and rasp out, "Doctor, I'm Edward Cullen's wife. Can you please let me know what's going on?"

The doctor goes on to explain that Edward sustained a severe shoulder dislocation and tore some ligaments, but his prognosis for full recovery and use of his arm are excellent. He'll need to remain in the hospital at least overnight, and then it'll be eight to twelve weeks of recovery, which will include physical therapy. All in all, he tells me that Edward is very lucky that he wasn't hurt worse.

"Doctor, Edward is an alcoholic. He's been sober for over five years, but I was wondering if that has any bearing on how the anesthesia will affect him?"

"Your father did inform me of that, but as I told him, the benefits of administering anesthesia to your husband far outweigh the probability of it's having a negative effect on him. At best, he'll recover from the anesthesia as normal. At worst, it may make him a bit groggier than most and take him somewhat longer to shake off its aftereffects. But he's strong and in very good health. I don't foresee any problems with a quick recovery from both the anesthesia and the surgery itself."

I breathe out a long, protracted sigh of relief.

"May I see him?"

"The nurses are just getting him settled," the doctor says. "As soon as everything is in order, you may definitely go in and see him, but just keep in mind that he's still sleeping, and when he does wake, he'll most likely be groggy, and that state of mind may last for a few minutes or a few hours."

After thanking the doctor, I finally, finally sink into one of the pink, plastic chairs, feeling the blood returning to my body. Since finding out about Edward's accident, I'd felt groggy myself, almost non-existent, as if my body were suspended somewhere unknown until I could be reassured that he'd be okay.

Emmett and Charlie hover over me asking me if I need anything, coughing and clearing their throats nervously, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Thanks, you two, for being there and getting him here so quickly."

Emmett drops into the chair next to me. He looks dirty and exhausted, yet almost as relieved as I feel.

"I thought you were going to kill me. As it is, Rose is a nervous wreck back home. The only reason she isn't here is because she's got no one to watch the baby."

I smile softly. "Go give her a call and let her know that her brother is going to be just fine."

When he walks away, pulling out his cell phone, my dad takes his place at my side.

"Emmett isn't kidding. The whole way over here he kept muttering, "Bella's gonna friggin' kill me. Bella's gonna friggin' kill me."

I chuckle quietly. "First of all, Edward's going to be okay, so I don't need to kill anyone. Second," I draw in a deep breath, "he's a grown man. It's neither one of your jobs to answer for him."

And with that sentence, the utter relief I feel at knowing that Edward is going to be okay gives way to just a little bit of utter indignation.

"Why would he do something so stupid anyway?"

"Well…he has done it before…"

"What?"

"I know; I know. I've warned him, but…he's so good up there that I guess we just got…careless." He sighs. "Trust me; that won't be happening anymore."

"It better not," I frown.

Knowing that Edward is going to be okay, I call Carlisle, who promises to stop by with Esme once his office hours are over. And now better prepared for her questions, I finally call Mel.

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?" she asks once I'm done telling her what happened, and my heart clenches at the unrestrained fear in her voice.

"He's going to be fine," I assure her. "The surgery went well. The doctor says he'll need a couple of months to recover, but he should be just fine."

"Oh my God," she whispers, and I can hear the tears in her voice. "Oh my God."

"Mel, Honey, he's going to be fine," I repeat soothingly. "I promise you. Your uncle is a strong as an ox. And as hardheaded as one too," I mutter under my breath.

But she hears it and despite her fear, she laughs. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Mel, finish the school day. It's your senior year, and you need to get your stuff done. Besides, I need you and Angie to take over this afternoon's classes for me. And can you please call Jake for me and see if he can come into the studio a bit earlier as well? Visiting hours are 'til nine. You can come after the studio closes."

She doesn't respond right away. "Are you sure I shouldn't come now?"

"Yes, Mel. You don't need to spend hours and hours in a hospital watching your uncle sleep off the anesthesia."

Besides, I can only imagine the memories this must be dredging up, and I don't want to make it worse than necessary for her.

"If it were serious, I'd be telling you to come right away, Mel."

I hear her take an audible sigh of relief.

"All right, Aunt Bella. I trust you. I'll see you later tonight then. And don't worry about the studio. I've got it covered."

"I know you do. I trust you too."

"And when Uncle Edward wakes up, tell him…tell him that I love him. And I love you too."

She's a few months shy of eighteen. Her biggest concerns 'til right now have been registering for the summer classes she'll be taking at Juilliard before she begins there in the fall and planning her wardrobe for the two-week trip to Puerto Rico that Edward and I are giving her as her graduation present. And though she's so very expressive with her dancing and with her actions, she's very much like her uncle when it comes to expressing her feelings verbally – it doesn't come easy.

So I can only imagine how badly she must feel the need to have these particular words out there today.

"Love you too, Mellie."

OOOOOOOOOO

When the nurse finally comes to get me, I'm led to a small room where the lights have been dimmed low and where the only sounds to be heard are the quiet hum of the IV drip in Edward's arm and the faint voices carrying from the nurses' station down the hall.

Over the past few minutes, I've been vacillating as to whether I'm mostly relieved that Edward is okay or upset that he took such a stupid risk in the first place. But when I finally lay my eyes on him, I'm filled with such a surge of relief, joy and pure, unadulterated love that there no longer is any question.

He's lying against the hospital bed, eyes closed and shoulder wrapped in what looks like miles and miles of white, gauzy bandages. His other shoulder is exposed - firm, tight-muscled skin that reminds me of the strength those bandages hide underneath. His hair has been smoothed back, making him look much younger than his thirty-three years and much more innocent than I know him to be.

I take a seat on the chair next to his bed, quietly scooting in so that I can watch his chest rise and fall under the thin blankets covering him. When I reach out and skim the back of my fingers over his warm, scruffy cheek, his eyes slowly open. It only takes a second to realize that they're unfocused and glazed. He closes them again just three seconds later.

"How do you feel?" I whisper, though I'm not sure if he'll even hear or for that matter understand me.

"Like shit," he responds.

Despite the crude word delivered in a hoarse voice, he's never sounded more beautiful to me.

"The doctor says you're going to be fine."

He's silent. I assume he's asleep again.

"Babe…" he says, elongating the word groggily, eyes still closed. When he licks his lips, I instinctively look for the plastic pitcher of water always available in hospital rooms. It's on his side table along with a few, wrapped disposable cups, but I've been instructed not to give him any liquids until the effects of the anesthesia have worn off.

"You're here," he smiles lazily. "I kept seeing you….every time I closed my eyes, I saw you…love you…so much."

"Of course I'm here, Edward." I pause. "And the stunt you pulled today doesn't sound like something a man in love would do; rather, it sounds more like the actions of a man desperate to get out of an unhappy marriage."

I want to smack myself as soon as the words are out, but Edward simply chuckles weakly.

"It was a stupid stunt, yeah." His speech is unfamiliarly slurred.

He's quiet again.

"Edward…" I breathe, running my fingers through his full head of copper hair. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he responds with a sluggish, half-grin. "You're stuck with me, Baby. I'm not leaving you just yet."

"It's not just me you would've left."

Again, I want to smack a hand over my mouth for reproaching him now- NOW, when he's just out of surgery and clearly not all there. But in my mind's eye, I see myself nursing a baby in a lonely bed, and Mel coming to sit next to me, resting her head on my shoulder sadly.

"I'm not leaving you or Mel," he says, almost as if he's read my mind. "You're my girls."

Despite the almost overwhelming urge to speak the next words, to tell him that it would've been more than just Mel and me he would've left behind, this time, I control myself. This isn't the time or place to break the news.

Edward opens his eyes, glassy and disoriented, and tries to hold my gaze.

"What?" he asks.

"What, what?" I say.

He chuckles and closes his eyes yet again. "Fuck, I'm dizzy. And you…you've got your lips pressed tightly together. Reminds me of something Rose would do when she was trying to hide something."

"What are you talking about?" I say, but my voice shakes guiltily.

Edward opens his eyes again, but despite how hard I can tell he's trying to focus, they cross together, forcing him to close them once more.

Still, half his mouth lifts into one of his signature semi-smirks. "I see two of you," he snorts. "Two of the most gorgeous and sexy woman in the world. Now that would be something. You're so damn hot, you know that? You're my sexy dancer. You going to dance for me, Sexy Dancer?"

Yeah, he's out of it.

"Not just now," I murmur, smiling while I stroke his face. "The doctor says the anesthesia may take a couple of hours to completely make its way out of your system."

"Bella, I'm drunk." He grins.

"You're not drunk, Edward. It's the anesthesia."

"I swear, Baby, I told them not to give it to me."

"Edward, you needed surgery. Of course they had to give it to you. I spoke to the doctor, and he says you should be fine once it wears off."

With his good arm and hand, he reaches up to grab the hand I've got caressing his face. Despite everything, his grip is firm and strong.

"Stay with me, Bella. My perfect Bella. You're my wife…my life."

"I will, Edward. I'm not going anywhere. Mel will be here in a little while too."

He smiles lethargically. "My Mellie Mel. My…kid."

"Go to sleep, Baby. I'm here with you."

"And then you'll tell me what you're hiding?"

I can't help chuckling. "I'm not hiding anything."

He opens one eye. "Bella, I'm high, not dead." Then he closes it and chuckles.

I snort, but he says nothing else because this time he has fallen asleep.

A/N: Thoughts?

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