Grief...

The engine idles, the music continues softly in the background, the rain beats down.

All the while she struggles to hold the fissures in her heart together.

~(~)~

"Why do you do it?"

Her voice is so small, so... broken. It makes his breath hitch.

"Why do I do what? Volunteer?"

"Yes," she says, nodding and letting her hair to shield her face.

He sighs and reaches for her hand again. "I guess I do it to keep me grounded. I enjoy it. I find spending time with the patients there to be relaxing."

"You're not doing it punish yourself?"

She can see him physically jerk. "No! God, no."

"Then why?"

She chances a glance at him. His eyes are worried, but he answers.

"I honestly like it. When I'm there, I feel... normal. I started out there at a time when everyone else in my life handled me with kid gloves. But there...? The patients don't care if I'm an addict, or a washed-out celebrity, or even that I live at home with my parents for all intents and purposes. They just need companionship."

She inhales slowly, trying to steady her breathing. "Do you ever..." She swallows thickly. "Don't you ever think about how... how it could have been you?"

His hand tightens around hers and he shifts to face her fully, or as much as he can in the car. The motion causes Bella to look at him. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and sudden comprehension crosses his face. He opens his mouth to say something, no doubt to comfort her, but she shakes her head to stop him.

With a tortured expression, she places her free hand on his cheek. "It could have been you."

He lowers his gaze. "I know."

She continues, her voice tremulous. "It was you. You were there. You were right there, so close to ending up like that, or worse."

"I know." His voice is full of sorrow. He rubs soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb and looks up again to stare deeply into her teary eyes. "I know, Isabella."

Her bottom lip trembles as they both acknowledge what could have been—what almost was. Her chest feels as though it's being slowly crushed. She runs her fingers slowly down his cheek, the first of her tears spilling over.

"I watched you nearly die. I watched you stroke out. God... I found you. Purple lips... no p–pulse."

She lets out a heart wrenching sob and her hand falls to his chest, to the place over his heart, where it curls into a fist. She sags against him then and feels him pull her closer, feels his arms try to hold her in the cramped, uncomfortable space.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so very sorry."

Her forehead is pressed against her fist. Her other hand is clenched in his shirt, somewhere near his waist. She gasps raggedly and then sobs again. Something in her chest unfurls and the damn breaks completely. She begins weeping openly, only vaguely aware of soothing touches and murmured apologies as the pain, grief, despair, anger, and relief course through her.

Her hand in his shirt tightens, pulling him closer as each emotion is brought to the surface. She lets them all go in turn; lets them all fade with the knowledge that he's here, alive and well beneath her iron grip. She releases everything she's been holding inside until she gets to her anger and without warning...

That one, long avoided feeling makes her stop.

The breathy, eerie silence that follows makes Edward nervous. "Bella? Honey, are you okay?"

With eyes open and strangely absent of new tears, she pushes herself up and out of his embrace.

~(~)~

I'm back to drabbling... sort of... It's really rather long to be a drabble isn't it? Ugh, wordy-girl strikes again. ;-)

Anyway, sorry for the short absence, but real life was too dramatic for me to put any drama into this, even in small doses. Thankfully, drama in real life or otherwise doesn't have to last forever. :)

More soon.
Ginnie