Weird, the site won't let me access a lot of story features. I can't see reviews, viewing details, traffic graphs, etc. Nothing you can do about it, just thought I'd share.
re:stacks- Bon Iver'
Symphony No. 3, Op. 36 II. Lento e Largo- Tranquillissimo- Henryk Górecki
Edward Benz, 27 Times- La Dispute
Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues- The Kinks
Edward's eyes shined glassily in the electric cracks of lightning. He stared at me as he gently rocked Alice's cradled body, wracked with sobs. The only signifier of the passage of time was the ripping of soft wood from the window pane as my fingers sunk into it the way Alice clung to Edward's back. With each tear that silently rolled down Edward's cheek into the dark tangles of Alice's hair, wood splintered and the paint cracked and fell away in chips washed away with rain.
Alice eventually relaxed into Edward, her body limp against his as his hands shook on her arms. When he closed his eyes, shutting them tightly so his smooth skin creased and his expression twisted into one of pain.
I moved for the first time in hours, my fingers finally boring through the windowpane so the wood came off in my hands.
I tossed the plank away, out into the forest where no one could find it, and quickly slipped inside, opening and closing the window in the blink of an eye. Alice was shallowly breathing on Edward's shoulder but was still too enwrapped in her own grief-ridden sleep to feel the brief gust of wind or hear how the sound of the rain loudened for a fleeting second.
I looked down to Edward for answers. He shook his head, his shoulders slumping in helplessness, and pressed his face to Alice's and letting her hair soak up his tears.
I stood in the middle of the room, frozen and useless. I couldn't do anything, and I was struck by just how powerless I was, and had been for months. I could keep them safe physically, I could fight off a strange grouping of newborns that were drawing too much attention, and I could keep secrets from the Volturi. I would rip anyone limb from limb at even the hint of a threat.
But even still, this was all out of my power. What more could I do for issues in the mysteries of the human mind?
I was sure there was something to be done, if only I had the information. Some kind of specialized therapist could be hired, the social worker could be bribed. I would clean out my bank account and shower whomever necessary to fix this, and not just for Edward.
I waited and stood, stood and waited. The wood floor was worn and cool under my bare feet, and I memorized the scratches and ridges that pressed into my heel. What stories did they hold? This room had sat empty for years before Alice and Edward moved in, at least as far as I knew. Charlie was long-divorced, and I wondered if there had been plans that never culminated to bring a baby in the world. There had to have been a reason for Charlie to become a foster parent, some kind of hole in his life he wanted to fill. I knew that Charlie had been selected because he was in law enforcement and there were security issues when it came to Edward's and Alice's safety. Tucking them away in a tiny town in the corner of the Olympic Peninsula with a police chief was probably the best CPS could come up with, but even I couldn't find the people who were after Edward and Alice.
The investigators I had hired, teams upon teams of them, had all come up with nothing. All I learned from their research was that there had been another child in James and Victoria's care before Edward and Alice, and that child had been removed from their care, but from what I could tell it was only because a family member came forward and took her. There was no history of abuse, not even a hint of anything malevolent. They seemed to be just an average working class couple, happy to help children and care for a set of twins who had been orphaned so young.
And James and Victoria had disappeared in the wind. The car that they had taken off in the last time Edward had seem them had been found half-burned on the side of the road in a seedy neighborhood just outside of Seattle, abandoned and with no trace or James or Victoria. And after a year or so, there would be no way for me to smell or track anything from the site, washed away with three hundred days of rain.
Edward carefully rolled a sleeping Alice off of him and gently tucked her into the duvet. She had exhausted herself to sleep, and even then she looked disturbed and discomfited. Her delicate features were pinched tightly, her mouth set in a deep frown. Just like Edward, her eyes were rimmed an angry red and the trails of salt dried from the tears set a distinct flush on her pale skin.
He looked down at her sleeping form, slouched and resigned. I stepped forward, moving for the first time in hours, and lightly touched his forearm. Edward slid his hand up and wove our fingers together, squeezing my palm to his so that his blunt nails bore into the stony skin of my knuckles.
He let me pull him away from Alice, his steps heavy and reluctant. But his body was mostly limp as I lifted him into my arms and launched us both out of the window. In mid-air, I slung him across my back to free my hands, and I absorbed the impact of the landing with my knees so I could run straight through.
Edward clung to me, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck and his face pressed into the side of my neck as I shot through the storming night. I carefully skirted under the tree canopies, keeping us both mostly dry. I could feel the heat of his tears burning on my neck and saturating a small patch of my shirt, separate from the misting of rain that clung to the fabric.
I headed straight for the only place I wanted to be with Edward, avoiding the more concentrated streets and flitting through the park to our meadow.
The flowers were in full bloom though the soil was muddied and flooded with the days of endless rain, and I crouched down to let Edward slide off of me. He did so ungracefully, his legs wobbling under him until he lost his balanced and slipped, almost falling onto one of the flat rocks on the edge of the field before I straightened him up. I took his hand and guided him down to sit on one of the most reclining boulders, covered under the dense foliage of several trees so only the occasional heavy drop dripped down after collecting on the leaves above.
"What happened?" I asked, stroking his face and collecting the tears from the corners of his eyes.
His breath caught in his throat and another sob came, his head falling forward for me to catch and hold him to me as he had been cradling Alice earlier.
"I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm so sorry," I cooed, smoothing his hair and scraping my nails across his scalp. "Do you want to go back to the house? I didn't know if you wanted to talk, but Charlie was downstairs-"
"It's f-fine," Edward sighed, breathing deeply. He leaned off of me and put one hand on his chest, his palm directly on his sternum, and focused on the timed counts of his breaths. I put my hand over his and softly counted out the seconds of each,
Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
And then longer, when his breaths weren't as shaky and the pouring of tears had subsided,
Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
His eyes that had been squeezed shut softened, the wrinkle between his brows smoothing out as his face relaxed. He opened his eyes slowly, red and irritated from tears, and looked up at me.
"Talk to me?" I begged, wiping at a stray tear with my thumb.
Edward sighed and moved his hand from his chest to run through his hair, pulling on it with enough force that the skin along his hairline flushed and a few stray strands came off with his hand.
"There w-was a psychiatrist th-there on Tuesday, and again t-today. She…" Edward rubbed his face, scratching at the corners of his eyes. "She used th-the n-notes our therapist had, and our evaluation f-files from f-foster c-care. And she s-s-said Alice is b-bipolar and…"
Edward was quiet, his voice fading and his face dropping to his hands.
I brushed his hair back from his face, the locks soft and slick with unwashed grease and the rain that had been unavoidable. "What else, Edward. Please, talk to me and let me see if I can do something to fix it."
"Maybe it's s-s-something you know m-more about?"
"I've read a fair share of psychology books," I offered weakly, trying to soothe away the brimming tears.
"I d-don't know what I'm g-going t-to d-do, Bella," he cried, throwing his arms around my neck and pressing his face into my shoulder blade. A flash of lightning sent a shock of white all around us, casting strange shadows in the night for only a moment before a rattling clap of thunder followed.
"It's okay," I whispered the lie, holding my hand delicately at the back of his head. His breathing came in gasps again as sobs ripped through his chest, and I carefully pulled his fingers from clinging in my shirt to hold him up again. I put my hand on his chest as he had done himself earlier and counted out his breaths again for him, trying to keep a full-blown panic attack at bay.
Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Breathe in- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Breath out- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
He was breathing steadily again, his shoulder still tense but his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Th-thank you."
"You don't need to thank me for that," I repeated his ow words back to him, drawing the ghost of a smile on his full lips.
"D-do y-you know what a 'c-cluster A personality d-disorder' is?"
I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth to bite down on it nervously.
A personality disorder was itself a serious diagnosis, but cluster A... "It's a level of personality disorder. The most severe type, usually characterized by extreme behaviors and intrusive thoughts."
Edward nodded and pinched at the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the puckered skin. "I kn-knew about it," he whispered, closing his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I knew about it. What w-was h-happening. And I l-let it g-get w-worse, didn't I? If I had t-told s-s-someone, maybe it wouldn't have g-gotten s-s-so bad."
"You can't blame yourself for something like this," I insisted, though he didn't seem convinced. "Trauma causes this. And that is absolutely not your fault."
"I'm n-not s-s-saying I caused it. But I m-made it w-worse."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought she w-was l-like me, you know. How s-s-sometimes I just get a f-feeling about s-s-something?"
"Intuitive," I murmured.
He nodded and pulled again at his hair. I reached up to thread his fingers through mine, redirecting his energy to me. I was more durable than the silky strands of his hair, and he was welcome to pull as hard as he wanted on me.
"But I g-guess it's n-not l-like that with her. It's d-different, not intuition b-but all in her head and I n-never t-told anyone about it."
"What kinds of things? And what happened, Edward? You said they're taking her away, but how? When?"
"There was a s-s-social w-worker there t-too today. She and Charlie t-talked f-for a long t-time t-today with the psychiatrist, and she r-recommended s-s-something called 'respite c-care' for Alice."
"Oh, well that's not terrible," I said softly, "It's only temporary, something to help out foster parents in difficult situations who don't want to give up their foster kids."
"It w-wasn't all, though," Edward groaned. "She t-talked about a g-g-group home, Bella. Another g-group home. And I s-s-swore to Alice th-that I would n-never l-let her go through s-s-something l-like that again. I promised."
I opened my mouth but nothing came out, words of comfort escaping me. I had nothing to offer him, no way to fix it.
"The s-s-social w-worker is going to p-pick her up t-tomorrow t-to take her to the place. The psychiatrist s-s-said it was j-just g-going to be until they f-figured out an 'effective t-treatment regimen' and they w-would help Charlie in understanding and f-figuring out how t-to m-maintain the routine. But I d-don't b-believe her. I f-feel l-like once they t-take her away, she's n-never c-coming back."
"Oh God," I gasped, holding his face between both of my hands. "I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so so sorry." I peppered kisses along his cheeks and up his forehead, the salt of his tears lingering on my lips and drawing a trickle of venom into my mouth.
"What am I g-going t-to do without Alice? And th-then y-you're leaving me, t-too. What am I g-going to d-do all alone?" he cried.
"I'm not leaving you," I corrected. "I'm just… leaving. And I'm coming back. And Alice will, too. You're almost eighteen, and once you hit adulthood you're kicked out of the system, right?"
Edward shrugged, looking forlorn like he didn't believe there was any hope.
"Charlie c-can't h-handle this. He thought he w-was j-just taking in a c-couple of t-troubled k-kids to keep them s-s-safe from a deranged s-s-stalker, but he didn't know we're b-both s-s-so f-fucked up. S-so now they're g-going t-to take Alice away f-for a 't-temporary' placement, and chances are th-that's g-going to shift into a s-s-semi-permanent mental health g-group home, b-because th-that's always how th-these things end up. They f-flush everyone who n-needs h-help down the s-s-system. And I'm g-going to be l-left behind."
"You're not going to be left behind. I'm here, and so is the rest of our family." Edward looked up at me just as another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, the green of his eyes electrifying. "I'm sure we can work something out where you can visit Alice. And we'll do everything possible to make sure she gets better."
"Better?" he scoffed, skeptical and dismissive.
"Yes, better," I insisted, tilting him up by his chin so he was looking at me. "These things can be treated. Medication, therapy, a routine in a controlled environment. People with personality disorders can live perfectly normal lives."
Normal was, of course, relative. Psychology had never been one of my interests, and I was sure most of the information I could recall was outdated even a few years later. But antidepressants and specialized therapy… and of course familial support. I knew antipsychotics occasionally worked, and it would be beyond easy to monitor her blood for any of the potential side effects- any of us could smell a decrease in white blood cell count.
And even still, the prognosis wasn't excellent. Alice hadn't devolved to the point where her ability to function had been impaired. She had still been getting out of bed in the morning, making herself food, showering, et cetera. Those were all good signs, right?
Right?
I let Edward rant, the thunder roaring and drowning out his rough cries. I thought of the tree, snapped in half and dying just a few miles from us, and wondered if more than just a Sitka spruce would suffer a casualty today. Splitting them in half, violently forcing apart two people who had been together in utero- it should be a crime.
"What if it's n-not Alice who's s-s-sick, b-but me?" Edward mumbled, his voice trembling. "They've g-got t-to be wrong. I'm hallucinating, r-right? I'm just s-s-somehow b-better at k-keeping it inside."
"I think I would have noticed if you were hallucinating," I said gently.
He looked at me, face hard and eyes turned down into a glare. I leaned back slightly, recoiling from the vitriol I had never been the subject of from Edward.
"I've b-been s-s-saying it s-since we met. You c-can't be r-real. You can't be r-real and s-s-still want me. This is a h-hallucination, isn't it? I've b-been h-hallucinating you and s-s-somehow able to keep it a s-secret f-from everyone else? Is th-there an everyone else? Oh God, I'm in a c-coma, aren't I? After J-J-James came after Alice and m-me l-last year, I n-never l-left the hospital. Or d-did I d-die? Have the p-past f-few month been the l-last few s-s-seconds of neural s-synapses f-firing?" Edward froze, his breaths coming in heaves and his heart racing, then he threw his head back and laughed, a single teardrop welling up at the corner of his eye. "This is h-heaven. That's the answer. I d-died, but this is h-heaven." His hands came up to my face, his palms pressed to either cheek as he lifted my head so our lips could meet.
His mouth tasted of salt and brine and fire, and his bottom lip quivered against mine
"It's okay, then," he sighed against my lips. "I d-don't m-mind d-dying if this is the r-reward."
"You're hysterical," I pointed out cautiously, trying to pull away from him but his hands were gripping my face as he tried to hold me closer.
"I'm f-finally rational. F-for the f-first t-time, I finally s-s-see things clearly."
He opened his mouth to mine and his tongue slipped through my lips. He hand slid from my cheek to my neck, the other down to my arm and then to the curve of my waist as he pressed his body against mine. He lapped carelessly, tongue skimming against the sharp edge of my teeth, and clarity came to me with a force.
"My teeth," I reminded him for the millionth time.
"I d-don't care," he said, hand squeezing around my neck and trying to bring me back to him.
"You should."
"Why? I c-can't d-die in heaven, can I?" he laughed, kissing me again so his warm lips molded to mine.
"How do you know this is heaven?" I asked, trying to make him see.
"What else c-could it be?"
"Hell?"
He laughed again, arms circling around my waist as he hugged himself to me. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head, and he inhaled deeply into my damp hair. "Impossible. Not w-with you here."
"And you say that I don't see myself clearly," I murmured into his shirt.
"A r-reluctant angel," he sighed, hand stroking over my simple braid.
I scoffed at the idea, the impossibility.
"You know you're not dead, right?"
"I know." He held me tighter, his fingers digging into the unmoving skin of my back. "B-but I almost w-wish I was."
A pain shot through my chest, searing and sharp like a strike of lightning. I gasped, pushing him away to roughly grab his face. I held his chin, forcing him to look down at me, and my brows knitted together as I frowned at him.
"Never say that," I whispered, a rare hoarseness in my voice. "You can never, never, never think of anything like that again!"
He sighed deeply, the tightness leaving his shoulders as he slumped and slouched over me. "It d-doesn't m-matter. Not s-s-so long as you exist."
"We can manage everything else."
He smiled sadly and wove our fingers to interlock, squeezing softly. "Together."
"Together," I promised.
Edward was exhausted, and his relaxed into me. "Can we go back to Alice?" he asked, voice small.
"Of course." I lifted him up and shifted him to sling him over my back, his legs coming up to hang around my waist and my chest pressing into my back. The rain was beginning to subside but the wind still whipped around us as I ran through the forest, the trees blurring green around us. I lopped gently, my pace at almost a job to keep myself steady as Edward began to slip into a light sleep.
A crack of thunder coincided with the sound of glass shattering against a wall.
"I'm not sick," Alice shrieked.
"Alice, please." I heard Charlie beg.
A deep and impossible fatigue set into my bones. Again? This was happening again? How had none of us ever noticed how troubled Alice was? I had just assumed she had trouble sleeping but was otherwise normally eccentric- the forward fashion, stinted conversational topics, the spacing out, it was all just Alice being Alice.
But no, she was again yelling and now throwing clothes out the window.
"I'm not going anywhere!" she cried. "I can't! I'm not finished yet!"
"Alice, please calm down so we can just talk," Charlie pleaded from the other side of her locked bedroom door. He had given up pounding on the door but was slumped against it, forehead on the wood like he wished he could sink through the wood.
"You're sending me away!"
"It's not me. The social worker, the psychiatrist, your therapist, everyone agrees that you need to spend a little time away."
"I can't go away!"
"Maybe a little bit of distance," Charlie continued, but Alice's screaming sobs cut him off.
Edward could hear the yells from the open window, and he whispered asking me what was happening. I sighed and slipped through his bedroom window on the first floor, depositing him on his bed reluctantly.
"Alice doesn't want to leave, and she isn't taking it well."
"I knew she w-wouldn't!" Edward said forcefully, shooting up out of bed and running for the door.
"Maybe you should let Charlie take care of this?" I suggested, but it fell on deaf ears as Edward shot through the hall and took the stairs two at a time.
"What's g-going on?" he asked Charlie, breath coming in pants.
"Where have you been?" Charlie asked.
"What?" Edward asked, and I could hear him above me shuffling his feet as Alice continued to throw the clothing she had so diligently procured out the window and onto the grass muddied with days of storming rain.
"I was downstairs and you were upstairs with Alice. I didn't hear you come down, and I checked your room. You weren't there. So where were you?"
"Oh, umm…" Edward gulped, his heart racing.
"Bella, right?" Charlie sighed, resigned. He pressed his palm to the door and leaned against it, listening through it as Alice cried and curled into a ball in the corner of her room.
"I… I don't…"
I was at the base of the stairs. "I'm sorry, Charlie," I called up. "I hadn't heard from Edward and was worried. I made him climb down from the window."
"Bella?" Charlie peered over Edward's shoulder.
"Hi," I waved meekly, trying my best to appear apologetic. "Nothing happened. I just needed to check in."
"Does your mother know you're here?" Charlie asked.
"Oh, well-"
"Because I called your house earlier and she thought you were in your room."
I bowed my head and shifted my weight from foot to other foot. Of all the things I was going to be caught doing, my boyfriend's foster father finding out we had snuck out in the middle of the night was not at the top of my list.
"You should call her and let her know where you are. And she should come pick you up, it's too late for you to be driving by yourself," Charlie said calmly, his expression serious and somber.
I nodded, somehow thoroughly chastised by a human who was young enough to be my several-times-great-grandson. Edward's skin was flushed bright pink, the smell of his blood so close to the surface and so aromatic it permeated the air all through the house so my thoughts were clouded by the floral notes of honeyed sunshine.
I called Esme from the phone in the kitchen as Edward coaxed Alice into opening the door from him. He kept his thoughts to himself over the superficial destruction- books torn to tatters, a glass broken and ice melting into the worn wood floors, clothes soaking into the ground outside. Again, Edward gathered her into his arms and held her, cradling her to his chest as the soft mattress creaked under their combined weight.
Charlie came downstairs, feet dragging along the floor and his steps heavy.
"Your mom coming?" he asked, leaning wearily against the doorjamb.
I nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what was happening, and I was just so worried about Edward," I apologized, adding, "And Alice."
Charlie waved me off. "It's fine, Bella. You're a good girl. I figured he was with you, it's just so late and with everything else going on…"
"He just needed to talk," I explained, listening in as Edward softly promised Alice that he believed her, that everything would be okay. She was still mumbling about not being able to leave, most of her words incoherent as she stammered out her sobs.
Charlie just sighed again. He looked up and nodded to the space next to me. "I need to use the phone. I gotta call and report this to the social worker."
"Why?" I asked immediately, then quickly apologized.
"It's fine," he said again. "She asked me to let her know if anything else happened. They're…" he looked down the hall to the stairs, checking to make sure Edward or Alice hadn't silently followed him down. "Don't tell Edward this, but they're taking her to the hospital first."
"What?"
He rubbed his face, stubble scraping against his palm and eyes bleary with the early hour. "They all recommended it. Apparently, with her… condition… Well, they need some extra help to keep her stable."
"Is this permanent?" I curled my hands into fists, but nails digging into my palms to keep myself from running upstairs and hauling both Edward and Alice off into the night. "I thought she was just supposed to go into respite care, and even then only for a little while."
"That's the plan for after," Charlie answered, looking down and twirling the curled cord for the phone around his index finger. "I just want what's best for her. I don't know shit about any of this." His face reddened with blush and he looked up at me, finally making eye contact. "Sorry," he apologized for the language, but this time it was my turn to brush him off.
"This is really the only avenue?" I asked.
"It was the only option they gave me," Charlie sighed. "I'm just a foster parent. They're not my kids, and the state can take them both away whenever they want."
I desperately wanted to ask, no, beg Charlie to adopt them. He may not understand how it could be possible, given the extremity of the situation, but I knew I could make it happen. With enough money, I could make just about anything happen.
But I couldn't cure a personality disorder, and that was still the bottom line.
"Esme is outside," I murmured. "I should go."
"I didn't hear a knock," Charlie observed. He was staring at me, the whites of his eyes bloodshot with exhaustion but still sharp.
I blinked. "I heard the car door close."
Esme must have heard me, because a second later she knocked at the door, and Charlie nodded and bade me a good night, and then nervously laughed and corrected himself to say 'morning'.
I gave Esme a quick glance, then zipped around the house and jumped up to Alice's open window once I was sure Charlie was on the phone and wouldn't be watching to make sure we drove away.
I surveyed the damage in the room. It wasn't just books she had torn apart, but her sketches. Even the expensive sketchbook I had given her for her birthday had been ripped to shreds with her fingers, and pencils crushed with lead crumbled and mixing with the melted ice in a greyscale puddle.
Edward and Alice were both asleep, worn down and pained even in their slumber. I quickly tidied the room, hoping neither Charlie nor Alice would ask questions and just assume Edward had done it while they slept. It took me only a couple of minutes, and I was soon carefully maneuvering into bed and cradling Edward's head in my lap. He held Alice's small form in his arms, and she unconsciously clung to him.
"Bella," Esme called, keeping her distance from behind the house. I had heard her drive away, but she must have left the Mercedes behind the same brush that I so often left my own car.
"You can come in," I said softly, and Esme appeared just outside the window. She smiled sadly at us as I stroked through Edward's hair, his breath steady and warm on my chest.
"I spoke with Charlie earlier," she started, and I leaned up a little to look at her, irrationally hoping she had some good news that Charlie and Edward had neglected to tell me. But it was plainly obvious from her expression that it wasn't. "He asked that you pick up Edward in the morning and get him out of the house."
My hand tightened in his hair, holding him to me. I didn't want to ever let him go. "Why?"
"The social worker said it would be a good idea. Let them say goodbye before, because apparently it came be traumatic to see a sibling separated like this."
"Have a lot of experience splitting up families, does she?" I growled.
"Bella."
"No, I'm serious. How can this be better than treating her in-home? And what about Edward? It's not like he doesn't have his own struggles, but they're just going to ignore how this is going to affect him."
"There is, apparently, a cavernous different between what Edward and Alice suffer from."
I sighed and closed my eyes, focusing on how Edward's heart was beating against my chest, the heat of his skin. He was alive, and no one would be taking him from me. I contemplated doing for Alice what I would for Edward in the same situation. Volturi be damned, I could take Alice away to some remote location and keep her safe from anyone who tried to hurt her or take her away. Maybe it would even help with the symptoms of her disorders.
Or maybe having her confront the reality of the supernatural in the world would catalyze a psychotic break and she would blend delusions with reality in a way that would be irreversible and unrecoverable. If a psychiatrist felt confident enough to diagnose her with a cluster A personality disorder, that meant Alice was already likely suffering from paranoia and deluded thoughts. I could only imagine what showing her my strength, speed, and even bloodlust would do to her.
"This is only a few hours away," I sighed, reaching down to touch the sharp split ends of her dark hair.
"They'll be together again."
"How do you know?"
"I just do," Esme shrugged, crouching beside the bed to stare at Edward and Alice. She delicately touched the curve of Alice's cheekbone, the skin raising slightly with the coolness of her skin.
I wasn't as hopeful as Esme. I woke Edward just before I left, kissing his temple softly to bring him to the surface of consciousness. The circles under his eyes could rival even my own when I stretched out the time between hunting trips, and the lines on his forehead from the depth of his frown seemed etched in permanence. Combined with the pain in his eyes, he looked far too old, far beyond his years.
But he seemed to accept it when I told him that I would be taking him to my house for the day while Alice was taken away. He seemed resigned, defeated, and tearfully clutched her to his chest and promised to visit as soon and as often as he was allowed to. She was only half-awake when we left, clinging to the uneasy peace of sleep as she mumbled about how much she loved him and would do everything she could do keep him safe.
She almost sounded like me, but I wondered what she was trying to keep him safe from.
I slipped out the window and fetched the Mercedes that Esme had left behind, showing up at the front door only a few minutes after I had left.
Edward didn't resist, and shuffled downstairs and out the door without a word to or glance at Charlie. I hoped he wasn't going to take his anger out on Charlie, or blame him for Alice being taken away. If anyone was at fault- besides James and Victoria- it was me.
I should have known. Of all the people in the world, I should have known. Humans could be excused for not being the most observant of creatures, but I should have recognized the details. I could hear Alice as she struggled with nightmares every single night, even while Edward slept deeply and calmly. I should have been sagacious enough to looked beyond the surface of appearances and put everything together.
She always dressed peculiarly, not quite matching and usually pairing outfits with a costume item or outrageous accessories. She tended to speak vaguely about the broadest of topics, and rambled off during conversations to fill every moment of potential silence. Outside of Edward she had no close friends- no one but Edward had ever gotten close enough to myself or the rest of my family to be considered truly close. She had been having these snaps of irrationality that she expressed in anger and with violence.
And then, there was what Edward had once attributed to intuitiveness that must have been instead a sick belief in some kind of special power, like mental telepathy. Or maybe she really did share Edward's keen intuition but rather attributed it to a supernatural ability.
Edward curled up on my bed, holding his knees to his chest and silently shaking with tears. I tossed the comforter over him and tucked it around him to keep his warm body safe from the leeching cold of mine as I held him.
I was only grateful that somehow Edward hadn't devolved into a state of total panic. Grief was a natural, normal response, but this wasn't anything like when he experienced such extreme anxieties that he slipped into almost comatose sobbing.
Esme came to the door with a tray of light foods, trying to convince him to eat breakfast, but one look at Edward told me that he wasn't capable of eating at the moment. When I asked, he merely shook his head, face pressed into a pillow to pointlessly try to muffle his sobs. It was for his sake only, because even Rose quietly fiddling away in the outer garage could hear everything happening in the house.
The morning wore on, and a feeling of dread blanketed us. They would be picking Alice up soon. Reality was setting in, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.
Esme came back, this time insisting that Edward at least have a slice of toast and maybe some oatmeal. When Esme demanded something, it was too difficult to say no, and Edward was in no state to pose much of a resistance.
I piled the pillows behind him so he could lean back but still sit up, and Esme perched on the edge of the bed and set the tray down beside her.
"I know it all seems hopeless now," she said, quickly buttering a slice of toast and spreading a spoonful of honey on it. She pushed the tray towards him, and Edward picked up the slice and stared as the crumbs brushed off his fingers. "But there's more to this story. You just need to give it time."
"What if t-time is s-s-something Alice doesn't have?" Edward asked sadly, and both Esme and I straightened up.
Esme stared at Edward, studying his face. "Is she planning on…?"
"No!" he said quickly, realizing what we were both thinking he had been implying. "I j-just m-meant that… I d-don't know what's g-going t-to happen. Every time w-we're in the s-s-system, s-someone takes s-something away from us. And what if J-J-James f-finds her?"
"That's not going to happen," I said.
"No, it's not," Esme added. "James and Victoria are gone. Maybe even dead."
"One can hope," I mumbled.
"How d-do you know?" Edward asked.
"Their car was found abandoned in a ditch just after you last saw them. And even still, we'll make sure Alice is safe."
"Yeah," I agreed. "We can hire a security firm. They can station someone outside wherever Alice is at all hours, just to be safe."
"And in the meantime, one of us can watch over her. But that's not a sustainable solution."
"Definitely not, with our hearing. Alice does deserve some privacy."
Edward finished off the slice of toast and sipped at the tea Esme placed in his hands. "S-s-something horrible always h-happens when th-they k-keep us apart," he sighed, staring into the swirling steam as it wafted out of the mug. I didn't want to remind him that terrible things happened even when they were together.
"But you never had us before," Esme reminded him.
"And now you have all of us."
Edward shrugged, unconvinced but the sobbing had subsided and made way for a restless nap.
Esme cleared away the tray and I shifted the pillows around so he could roll onto his side, one of his hands finding my waist and his feet kicking out from under the comforter to twine around my legs.
I brushed my hands through his hair, combing it back and untangling the greasy knots. His hair just fell back into a tousled mess, limply draping down his forehead. He was too close to me, and I could feel as my skin warmed while his own cooled off. A wrinkle creased between his brows, and his pilomotor reflex engaged as the hair on his arms stood on its end. When he began to shiver, I carefully untangled our legs and rolled him off of me.
He was too lightly asleep to not be woken by any movement, and his eyes fluttered open blearily, rimmed red and crusted with tears and sleep.
He rolled out of bed, standing and stretching so his back popped and his shoulders creaked as if, again, he was far older than he actually was. He leaned down and gently kissed me, his mouth still tasting of the salt of hours of tears, but his lips twisted into a grimace against my own.
"I'm s-s-sorry," he murmured, drawing away and going into the bathroom.
He came back a few minutes later and collapsed face first into bed, one of his hands curling around my ankle.
"Do you want me to read you a story?" I asked. His thumb rubbed a steady circle onto my skin.
"I don't want you to leave."
"Perfect recall, remember?" I reminded him, trying to draw a laugh but not succeeding.
"P.G. Wodehouse?" he asked, requesting the famous humorist. I took it as a good sign that he was seeking out something funny and began reciting the first few chapters of My Man Jeeves- the origin of the proper English butler of the eponymous title.
When Rose came to the door, knocking lightly so that Edward could hear, I figured out what they were doing- trying to comfort or offer distraction.
"'Of course, I know it's as bad as being henpecked; but then Jeeves is always right. You've got to consider that, you know'," I said in my best affixation of an early 20th century British accent, finishing the first of the collection of short stories.
"Can I come in?" Rose asked. I looked down at Edward, who nodded into the comforter and rolled over, his hand still on my ankle with his thump massaging into the arch of my foot.
"Bella took me away from my entire family," she said abruptly, standing at the edge of the bed with her face smooth and expression blank.
I gave her a pointed look, not wanting to dredge this all up at such an inopportune and inappropriate time. "Rose."
"Bella took me away from my mother and my father and my two little brothers. She took me away from my best friend Vera, and her son Henry who I loved as if he was my own," Rose said. Edward's hand dug into my unmoving skin, his knuckles whitening with the pressure. "She also saved me. She saved me from my fiancé, she saved me from a loveless marriage, she saved me from dying. And she saved me for Emmett.
"I know that it doesn't seem good now. I know everything seems hopeless, and that's okay. Grieving over the things and people you've lost is healthy. Everyone knows that for over a year that's exactly what I did."
"Expressed it a little differently," I murmured, and Rose's lips twitched up in a smile. As tortured and painful as this seemed, it was nothing compared to the violent and destructive rage of a newborn Rose coming to terms with everything she had been through and everything she had lost that she would never regain.
"But you need to be mindful of what you're not losing," Rose continued, "You're not losing Bella, or me, or Emmett, Carlisle, and Esme. In fact, maybe you should look on the bright side."
"What?" Edward asked.
"Rose," I repeated, a bit in shock.
Rose tossed her hair over her shoulder into a golden cascade glimmering brilliantly in a flash of lightning.
"I'm not always good at this," Rose said, lips pressing together tightly. "But I think there is a silver lining. You're going to think I'm being dark or morbid, but I'm being honest."
"It's about m-me and Bella, isn't it?" Edward guessed.
Rose nodded. "You know I don't necessarily agree with the future that you've decided on. It's not the path I would have chosen for myself. But you're a member of our family, Edward, and I would never want to see either you or Bella in pain.
"But this might give you a cleaner break. If Alice is being taken care of, you don't have anything to worry about."
"Rose," I gasped, now understanding what she was getting at, but she ignored me.
"Like I said, you're going to think I'm being morbid. But it's true. With Alice gone, it will make it easier for you to disappear when you graduate from school. Charlie is just your foster father, and foster kids disappear all the time after aging out."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder again as she turned, sashaying out of the room with the attitude and flair only Rosalie Hale could manage, especially after not just implying but outright saying that Alice being committed was a good thing because Edward could get a clean break from humanity.
"And then you get to turn into a soulless bloodsucking monster and never have children or grow old in exchange," she said under her breath, too softly for Edward to hear. Before I could say anything, the door had swung shut and Rose had fled back to the garage.
"I'm sorry," I said, running my fingers through his hair. Edward rolled over to look up at me, scooting up in bed to rest his head on my calf with his fingers splayed across my knee. "Rose has a tendency to skew to the extreme."
"So I've noticed," he said softly, peering up from beneath the thick lashes that framed his teary eyes.
"You can't take her too seriously. No one else is thinking about a bright side in this other than Alice getting the help she needs."
Edward rubbed his fingers along the curves of my knee, and I watched as his fingertips bent and conformed to my unyielding skin. I tried to read his expression behind which secrets swirled and stormed, the darkness in his eyes matching the black of the sky outside. He closed his eyes, then stared out the window to our side so his neck was craned and stretched out at my feet. I could see the thin skin above his pulse, pounding with fragrant blood that made the venom trickle down the back of my throat.
I followed his eyeline to look at the now-gentle rain pattering at the glass. The storm was subsiding after days of pounding on the Olympic Peninsula, and the dark clouds were rolling away to the east, but the thunder still slammed through the sky and rumbled even from a distance.
I overheard Carlisle speaking with Esme below, filling her in on everything that had happened in his morning. "Carlisle's home," I announced, but Edward only blinked in response. "He wants to know if he can answer any questions for you about what both Alice and you can expect."
Edward sat up, pulling himself into a sitting position with his grip on my leg and sliding up to sit next to me in bed. He combed his fingers through his hair, but it just drooped back down in a tousled tangle again, then rubbed his reddened eyes. I reached over and smoothed his collar, my fingers trailing up to linger at the sharp curve of jaw just above his jugular.
Edward put his hand over mine and threaded his fingers through mine, bringing it up so he could kiss my palm. He stared into my eyes and I passed the time easily, counting each delicate leaf of green that framed the dilated black of his pupil, until he nodded and squeezed my hand.
"Okay," I said quietly, but loud enough for Carlisle to get the message.
"May I come in?" Carlisle asked, knocking briefly on the door. Edward nodded again, and I told him to come in.
He was dressed in dark dress pants and a light grey button up, and the harsh chemical smell that still clung to his clothes told me he was only just coming home from the hospital.
If anyone was equipped for a difficult conversation in a tense time, it was Carlisle. He sat on the edge of the bed, his topaz eyes soft and gentle, and Edward leaned forward and listened intently as Carlisle described the conversation he had had with the social worker.
He had called as Alice's physician and forwarded psychiatric credentials that allowed the social worker to release personal health information, and learned more than they told even Charlie.
They spoke before the social worker picked Alice up, but by this time she would already be gone. No plans were set in stone because of the uncertainty of the exact treatment process, but the social worker was taking Alice straight to a children's hospital in Seattle. Alice would spend seven days there, but Carlisle tried to assure Edward that it was nothing to worry about. It wasn't like in a Girl, Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and she wouldn't be in a padded room in a straight jacket.
Rather, they would work on a medication regimen and give Alice a chance to adjust to a strict routine. She would wake up in the mornings and have group therapy with other people going through similar diagnoses with similar traumatic upbringings, there would be art therapy and Alice would have the chance to express herself through sketching and experiment with other mediums. Alice would still maintain a personal therapy session, this time in the afternoons, and also meet with a psychiatrist to delve into the physiological aspects of her disorder.
Edward nodded along, occasionally asking questions always with the reference of a disturbing film or books. Carlisle was excellent assuaging those fears, though, with his steady voice and caring demeanor, and I thought of what he had mentioned about his terminal patients. He said they always seemed peaceful and at peace at the end, and I wondered if that had more to do with Carlisle's comforting presence than the sereneness of impending death.
If all went right in the hospital with Alice, she would get to move into a temporary group home- temporary because Charlie signed off on respite care. She would be there until a team of people working on her case, including a therapist, psychiatrist, and social worker, all could agree that she was prepared to move back into a normal home again. And at that point, she could go back and live with Charlie and Edward. Sure, life would look a little different. There would have to be stringent schedule to adhere to, and someone would have to be on top of Alice to make sure she kept taking whatever medication she was prescribed.
"How l-long?" Edward asked.
Carlisle frowned. "I don't want to give you a timeline and then you be disappointed if it takes longer."
"What if y-you give me a n-number and it t-takes l-less time? Then it's a h-happy s-s-surprise."
"A bright side," I said softly, leaning into Edward to press a kiss to the side of his neck.
Carlisle gave me a more serious look, then shifted back to Edward. "It could be anywhere from three months to longer. None of us will know until the severity of Alice's psychosis can be gauged."
"Psychosis," Edward repeated in a whisper.
"It's just a medical term, Edward," Carlisle reassured. "I did not mean that she is psychotic or anything of the like. I shouldn't have used such a loaded term."
"Yeah, it just means that her brain processes information and interprets reality differently from the typical brain," I clarified.
"S-s-so she's j-just wired differently?" Edward asked.
Carlisle smiled encouragingly. "That's a way to look at it."
"Can she… be r-rewired?"
I squeezed Edward's hand softly. It was so fragile in my own, warm and pulsing with life and promise in a web of veins and arteries barely protected by just a thin layer of pliable flesh and skin. I could feel the delicate pattern of strokes of lines on his palm fitting against mine, like we were made to be together. If there was God or a grand design, whatever higher power was out there was really playing the long game here.
"Unfortunately, that's not how it works," Carlisle sad sadly, patting Edward's knee. "It's a chronic condition, and while the medication and therapy and sustaining treatment can alleviate symptoms and make it appear that she's better, Alice will never be cured."
"What about her f-future, though? In th-the l-long term?"
"We can never know what the future holds, but a productive and happy life is perfectly possible. But she needs all the support we can give her."
"And we'll do everything in our power," I added, "She'll get the best possible care. We'll keep her safe."
Edward nodded and for the first time in what had already felt like an eternity, a hint of a smile graced the arch of his full lips.
Carlisle lightly squeezed Edward's leg, then got up and left us there. Edward leaned into me, his head on my shoulder and our hands were tangled together on his lap. I could smell them before they started, the salt of his tears welling up in his eyes. But there were no sobs and no hyperventilation, just a gentle flow as he let out all of the tension and grief he had been holding in.
He pulled his hands from mine and rubbed his face, wiping at the corners of his eyes and then scratching the scalp of his hairline. He moved his head from my shoulder and kissed me gently, one hand coming up to cup my face as he rubbed his thumb along the apple of my cheek.
I tried to lean into him, parting my lips to open my mouth to him, but he pulled away. His fingers trailed down to the curve of my jaw, then to my neck, and then back up to my face again. He looked at me, a tenseness around his mouth and a wrinkled v between his brows, but the sadness in his eyes wasn't insurmountable or overwhelming. He wasn't wallowing in a pit of despair anymore, but rather merely very, very sad.
"I'm g-going t-to take a shower," he announced, kissing me again just once, then one more again before he rolled out of bed.
It was a profoundly inappropriate time, but I was filled with absolute joy for just a moment. Edward gracefully rolled out of bed and stretched, and while of course I loved to admire the way the muscles in his biceps rippled with the movement and his abdomen from under his shirt, it was the way he confidently and naturally walked over to the dresser in my closet and pulled a change of clothes from his drawer that made me want to leap out of bed and pin him to the ground and have my way with him.
While Edward was in the bathroom, there was a massive clatter and I could hear some hushed whispering from the outer garage between Rose and the newly appeared Emmett, but they were too quiet and too far away for me to overhear. I assumed that Emmett had spilled something and Rose was spitting venom and spewing vitriol to punish him. It was a bit unusual that she wasn't being louder- Rose liked for everyone to share in whatever pain or anger she was experiencing, and if we weren't, she'd make sure we knew.
Edward came out of the bathroom still slick with water. He was in only a pair of sweatpants that sat low on his hips, and I tried to stop myself from counting the tiny drops of water that were slowly trailing down the slanted lines of his abdomen, but I couldn't pull my eyes away.
He pulled the towel from his shoulders and scrubbed his head with it, absorbing some of the dampness but leaving his hair a mess standing on all ends. I couldn't suppress the small chuckle that bubbled up at the sight of the static puff on his head, and Edward followed my gaze then touched his hair and smiled too when he realized how ridiculous he looked.
There were heavy steps downstairs, and as I was mid-eye roll, the door swung open and Emmett bounded in.
"Jeez, a little privacy?" I groaned, leaning back on the bed so my legs were hanging off.
"Not like there was anything happening in here to interrupt," Emmett retorted. He looked over at Edward and nodded appraisingly, then said, "Or maybe something was starting, huh?"
I growled softly, a rumble in my chest that Edward wouldn't be able to hear. "Emmett," I cautioned.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "I just thought you might like a little break from this sob-fest."
Edward folded the towel in his hands and carefully hung it over the back of the dark leather couch next to the bathroom door. "What?"
"What are you talking about, Emmett?"
Emmett grinned just as a clap of thunder roared in the distance, his cheeks dimpling deeply and an errant curl falling onto his forehead. "Let's play baseball."
I was expecting to be further along now, but you'll have to wait for the next chapter for some action!