http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5700289/1/

This is how it's going to work. I write out of sequence, I won't give dates or
times, only clues and outright truth. 500 or so words, each time.

Unbeta'd on purpose, disjointed because. This could be something, so I really
hope you get it. God, that was a pretentious statement.

Review for clues.

1.

A little vodka spilled into the tub, mixing with the bubbles. His face was slightly
out of focus and when she squinted, she saw each perfection.

Beautiful. He was beautiful.

His nose was crooked at the tip, a little flat from when he fell down after
Homecoming. She told him not to drink so much.

If he could see her now.

But that was the point. That was the point of the bottles and the bubbles and the
soreness between her legs. He couldn't see her now. He didn't care to see her
now, or then, or ever. She was a mess; she smelled like old strawberries. The
last of the shower gel he bought her because he liked her smelling like sweet
things had expired a year ago and she still used it even though the bubbles didn't
froth quite as well and the scent only lingered for a half hour, instead of all day.
She clung to it; she liked to think he still thought of how she smelled, still
thought of how she tasted a little like bubbles.

When she was a child, and he was a little older than a child but not so old that
people looked or judged... she would blow bubbles out of a giant bottle of Mr.
Bubbles and he would try and catch them with his mouth and eat them. it was
weird, but she liked him strange. He was always doing strange shit like that to
make her laugh.

Bella tipped her vodka into the bathtub like you tipped a drink onto the gravesite
of someone you loved. It was starting to get cold and her fingers pruned. He had
a thing for her fingers once. He'd suck on them, and lick and take the whole thing
into his mouth until she squirmed and told him it was strange, but she liked his

strange, and his crazy finger obsession, and the way his eyes would lose focus
when he stared at that spot behind her ear.

But it was bullshit, wasn't it? Because he went and got himself shot for promises
and misplaced loyalties and it didn't matter if she begged or pleaded or promised
fingers and love and forever because he wanted to do what was right and take
care of them but there wasn't anything to take care of now. She drank again, lips
too loose around the neck of the bottle, and a little trail of clear went down her
chin and over her neck and curved around one breast and fell into the water; and
she wished she could fall too but smooth and sweet and too young to sound like
him even though he did, he called out to her, "Momma, I can't sleep."

She took her wrinkled fingers and twirled the cap back on and put it in the sink
cabinet because no one looked in her bathroom, and she came out, wrapped in a
towel and a smile and did her job.

Chapter Two: Kermit The Frog

That boy had frog eyes. They popped out at you and ribbited and shifted all over
the place, trying to stay away from hers.

They were very green.

Bella wanted to stare at them, so she reached out and stood on the tip toes of
her brand new light-up shoes, and grabbed his chin to keep his eyes still.

"Quit it," his voice was higher than hers and she laughed at him. Not because she
was a cruel child, but because she was a child.

"Stay still," she let him go, to show she trusted him, so he stayed still.

Trust was important.

"What do you want little girl?" Edward was newly tall, and felt like everyone was
little.

"I'm not little, I'm normal sized." She wasn't, but she tried to stand as straight as
she could, because Mama said if you hunched, you looked shorter.

Bella had wonderful posture for a six year old.

Edward looked really cool when he raised one eyebrow. "What do you want?" He
had to go meet his friends.

"Do you want to see my new room?" You couldn't just tell someone they had the
greenest eyes in the world. He'd think she was weird.

"No." Girl's rooms were stupid, and pink and covered with feathers and… you
know, shit. Edward felt a tingle of disobedient pleasure when he thought the
word. Em had heard it from his big brother. Emmett's brother is the cool that
nine year old boys strived for. He had a fast car and played loud music and swore
up a storm.

Edward was going to be like that, exactly. He was already practicing the
swearing. But only in his head because he let one slip last week and his Mom,
mom, not mommy or mama, had heard him say the F-word, a risky move, and
put a drop of liquid Dial soap on his tongue.

It was, by far, the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

"Oh, okay." Used to the disappointment that came with being raised by Renee,
Bella shrugged like it was no biggie, and started to walk off. "Bye."

Her shoulders slumped something awful as she walked away from him, she really
was little. Edward had been taught to open up doors and never make girls cry,
and though Bella wasn't crying, she looked like she might start.

Girl tears made his belly hurt.

"Hey girl, wait!" He should learn her name, if he was going to see her room.

"It's Bella, not girl." She was still a little hurt by his out right rejection. Mama had
said that if she smiled she'd make friends no problem. Bella has smiled like crazy
at this frog eyed boy.

It was a pretty name. Edward liked it much better than any other name he'd ever
heard before. And he'd heard a lot, since his mom was having another baby soon.
Mom, not mommy or mama.

"I'm Edward, why is your room new?"

"I moved. This is my Daddy's house."

"Where from?"

"Georgia. My mama says I'm a peach."

Her skin looked like a peach. Soft and lightly colored. "Can I still see your room?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He even nodded. Nods were very sincere.

Bella, with the pretty name and really brown eyes, grabbed his hand and took
him into the house, with bright yellow cabinets and brown and dull everything
else. She took him upstairs, leading with a tiny, slightly sticky palm and brought
him into her room.

It was light blue and had splashes of green and purple and no pink whatsoever,
painted in uneven porous circles all over. "I did it with a sponge," she told him,
fingering the paint.

It smelled like new paint and sanded furniture.

It was the coolest F-word room he'd ever seen.

Chapter three- Fucking Lovely

"Ugh, you smell like death and meatloaf," Bella complained.

"Football practice and dinner, Babe." She hated when he called her babe, so he
made sure to do it as much as possible.

She was pretty hot when she was angry.

He smacked her butt as he passed her, going into the fridge for the endless
supply of milk she stocked for just him. Bella was lactose intolerant. He
discovered this when he took her out for ice cream and she puked on his bike.

"I hope Charlie sees you touch his preteen daughter like that so he can shoot you
and my butt will never hurt again."

Edward spun around and looked her over. "Did I really hurt you? I'd never hurt
you, I swear Isabella." His belly hurt and his throat was thick around the milk.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not hurt." She shouldn't have said that. Edward was very
sensitive to that shit.

His father was a bastard. When he died last year, Bella only pretended to feel
sad, and had to lick her finger and rub it under her eyes so they were wet. When
the funeral was over, she left and ran right up to her room and jumped around in
short bursts of hysterical relief because that meant no more Edward climbing up
her tree and falling asleep next to her just to get away.

Bella got real good at First Aide after Charlie questioned her about blood on the
pillow too many times. He wanted her to get her nose cauterized. Bella hadn't
had a nose bleed since she met Edward, because she never fell anymore.

He caught her, all the time.

"It's cool, just don't joke." He grabbed the container of Bella's left over potato
salad and went to town on it. He was a growing boy, and he'd use that excuse
forever. Mostly he just liked eating things she made.

"Did you make Varsity yet?" Bella only cared because Edward cared.

"Almost, but Em got it instead. There was only one spot." Bella would have taken
Emmett's knee out (she really did like Emmett) but Edward wanted to earn
everything and he didn't like to play dirty unless it was with her.

She was a violent child when it came to Edward. Devotion does that to a girl.

"I'm sorry, E."

"Wanna make me feel better?" He was always saying that stuff, but the one time
Bella pressed against him, with new and confusing breasts, he kissed the tip of
her nose and told her to do it again when she was fourteen because otherwise he
felt like he was going to go to jail.

She had a countdown going on in her calendar. Rosalie saw it when she was
forced to visit with Bella because Edward was over and so Emmett was over and
Rose never left Emmett for a minute. Rose laughed and told Edward; and Edward
came up to her room and drew a smiley face on her calendar.

For a week after, he'd call and say good night and say "four hundred and three
days, Bella," and "four hundred and two days, Bella," in this fake low voice that
made her tummy squiggle, even if he was just kidding.

"Eat your food, fattie." She said, instead of 'yes, take me upstairs'.

"Who's a fattie?" He asked, pinching the side of her hip. They'd been getting
rounder, but not chunky or protruding like Jessica Stanley. Jess ate nothing but
fries and coke, but she had huge boobs so everyone talked to her.

Bella looked down at herself. Maybe Mama was wrong and she wasn't "becoming
a beautiful young lady", maybe she was just getting fat. "Yeah?"

"No, shut up." Edward rolled his eyes because how could she be so stupid.

"Yeah?" She asked again.

"You're fucking lovely."

Chapter Four- Only Edward

"If there's puke in my hair, Emmett, don't tell me." Bella was exhausted. She had
recently realized that the only job that allowed her to keep the same hours as her
son's school was, in fact, her son's school.

The principal took one look at Bella's Ivy League diploma and hired her. So
instead of being a writer or an actress or a fucking ballerina, she taught
preschoolers their colors and how to count to one hundred and that it was not
acceptable to pee on Mrs. Cullen, ever.

Vomit was tomorrow's lesson. It was on a sticky note on her desk:

Puking = no gold star

Gold stars were the end all, be all of three year olds. They horded them and
would sell their own mothers for a gold star.

"Gross, dude."

"So fucking gross." It had been a long day, and the vomit and crayons and magic
marker smells had driven away all traces of strawberry. She was almost out.

She wouldn't buy another bottle. They were gifts.

"Edward Jr. getting out yet?" She hated when Emmett called him "Junior" like
there was another Edward they could talk to and see and interact with. There was
just one Edward, as far as she was concerned.

"In a few minutes, he likes to clap the erasers."

Conversation stops, and they wait for the boy with frog eyes and brown hair. He's
almost a perfect combination of the two of them. Not Emmett and Bella.

"I was thinking-"

"Did it hurt?" It was the old standby joke. It stopped being funny awhile ago, but
there's something to be said about routine. He grins like she hasn't lost her sense
of humor along with everything else.

"Rose and I could take Edward Jr. for a little, give you a break?"

Bella shook her head. Those nightly calls of nightmares and glasses of waters and
the occasional snuggle kept her going. She needed him home.

He couldn't have both of them gone.

"He could play with Claire, and we could… you wouldn't need to go or talk about it
but maybe we could take him to the place Edward is?"

"No." We don't go there. It's dead weight and rotten things.

"Bella, he needs to remember."

"You're boring me with redundancy."

"You're showing off your big brain." True.

"Wouldn't kill you to remember either."

"Go away now, Emmett. We're all done."

"I can come back, Bella."

"That's what they say."

They're stopped from escalating into a verbal hair pulling match, trying to tug the
hardest to see who breaks and cries first and gives up. Edward, the only one,
comes running over smelling like chalk dust and juice. When Bella erases things
on her classroom board, she smells her son, always. Same with snack time.

"Mama," he's never spent longer than a month in Georgia, but the combination of
Renee and his mother has given him a very small accent. "Jeremy is having a
sleep over tonight, and he said I have to come cause there is gonna be Pokémon
stuff."

"Is Pokémon cool again?" Bella asks Emmett.

"It's all a cycle, Bella."

She nods and smiles as he lights up. It's his first sleep over. First night away
from Bella.

They go home and she pack him jammies and his bear that he unpacks and rolls
his frog eyes at Bella. He's clearly too grown up for that shit.

She drops him off and stares at his retreating form until Jeremy's mom waves to
let her know all is well. When she gets back home she puts the vodka on the
highest shelf and ignores it. She needs to be able to drive in case only Edward
needs his bear.

He doesn't call by two in the morning, so Bella's safe. She get the bottle and the
bubble bath.

She's almost out of both.

Chapter Five

Bella's ten year old heart was breaking right in her chest.

"You're just the handsomest boy I've ever seen," Renee's accent was thick and
overdone. Bella barely talked like that anymore.

But Bella didn't live in Georgia anymore. Renee did.

When Edward's cheeks turned red and he smiled with all his perfectly straight
teeth, Bella hated her pretty, overindulged mother more than she'd ever hated
anything in her whole life.

Why'd she even come to visit, anyway? She didn't come on Christmas or on
Easter or on birthdays. She'd come once a year, in the middle and whisk Bella off
for a week of missed homework and uneven meals and dancing.

Renee was a wonderful dancer, and taught Bella how to move her hips well
before she had any. She told Bella they had Gypsy blood in them, and they were
born to dance. She was dancing now, singing "sugar pie, honey bunch" into a
wooden spoon as she twirled Edward around Bella's Daddy's kitchen. Edward
hated dancing, he was too cool for it. He'd swear at Bella impressively until she
let him go to sit down in embarrassed disappointment.

But Edward was dancing with Renee.

Renee was beautiful.

She let Edward go and told him to "play with the baby, Honey." The baby being
Bella. Bella had never minded being her mama's baby until just now.

Edward plopped down with all the grace of a boy that grew six inches in one year
and hadn't quite learned to deal with it. There were notches on Bella's bedroom
wall showing his growth. She'd had to stand on a chair for the last one.

"Hi Baby," Edward greeted, grinning all over his stupid face.

She gave him the meanest look in the entire world.

"Wanna play?" He teased some more. Edward wasn't a mean boy by nature, and
he wasn't mean now, but it felt mean. It felt like he was dancing on her heart,
with her mama.

"No, I don't want to stupid play."

"Why are you so mad at me?" Edward was very observant of other people's
anger. Being angry was trouble.

He hoped she wouldn't hit. Tiny little fists aside, he really hoped she wouldn't hit.
His dad hit and Edward didn't love him. He didn't want to not love Bella, ever.

Bella saw the look of well concealed panic, and buried her head on his shoulder,
barely missing a new bruise. "Not mad," and she wasn't anymore. Edward had
plenty of people mad at him for no good reason.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, course I am. But I'm not a baby." Just so they were clear.

"No, we're very grown up." Edward puffed his chest out and sat up as straight as
Bella until she giggled. Edward thought Renee laughed just like Bella.

Renee stirred in cranberries to some chicken thing, humming and swaying her
false Gypsy hips. Her hair was curly and a pretty brown, and she was frown line
free because she never frowned.

She was content, and when she was not, she left and searched until she was
content again.

Freebird came on the radio, and Renee sang with her whole heart.

"You know, you look like your mom."

Chapter Six- I love you

Edward Masen was in a bitch of a mood, and currently taking it out on his favorite
person just because he knew that she'd give it right back to him. Too many
people took his shit because he was cute and smart and supposedly perfect.

Bella would kick his arrogant ass until he was too bruised to be anything but
humble.

"Whatever your problem is, asshole, just come out with it before I fetch you
some Midol and ask if you want to snuggle." That was his almost girl. He'd bought
her the Midol because Charlie would sooner die, and she was too hurt to walk to
the store. They'd never said a word about it until now.

She was such a pest. Why couldn't he just be mean to her and let her be mean to
him until he got to say sorry with his lips on her skin? That's what he came over
for. Not to talk about how worried he was.

"My mom's dating again." His voice was flat. There was nothing there.

"What's he like?" Bella was worried too. Esme didn't exactly have the best track
record in men. Not that it was her fault. But still.

"Dunno yet."

"If he touches you, I'll take Charlie's gun and kill him." She knew where he kept
it, and the bullets he took out every night because he was a responsible gun
owner. She'd pull a trigger if Edward got hurt like that again.

He turned his head and looked at her for a very long time, until she wanted to get
up and get something to drink, just so she could move away. It was
uncomfortable, that kind of scrutiny.

"I love you."

Now Bella stared back. Edward had told her he loved her when she was six and
he was nine, but he stopped when he was twelve and she missed it. But now, at
sixteen, it was another sort of I love you. It was the kind whispered after good
night kisses and shared popcorn and that one time he'd put his hand up her shirt.

But he hadn't said it those times, even though Bella wanted him to. But he said it
now.

"Um, I love you too." She told her shoes.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Then don't shoot anyone, Bella. I'm not worth jail."

She just shook her head at her stupid maybe boyfriend. He was worth anything,
and she was a cops daughter. She'd probably get away with it.

"He's a doctor, that new one."

"Dr. Cullen?" Bella was instantly relieved. He gave her a check up last week, and
no one with eyes that kind would hit Edward.

"Yeah." He was pissed she even knew his name. He wanted this guy to go away.

"He's nice." She told him this quietly, like if she praised Esme's new boyfriend too
much he'd take back his "I love you."

"We'll see." Edward wasn't committing to liking anyone just yet.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Bella was hoping he'd stick his hand up her shirt
again, even though it was only once and after Edward had stuck his hands in his
hair and pulled hard and told her not until she was fifteen.

Edward lead her to the couch instead. It was safer territory.

Chapter seven- Bohemian dinner.

Bella was frantic.

Her dining set didn't match. When she bought it, it was bohemian and chic and
very anti establishment, but now it looked like a little girl playing dress up and
tea party. Her silverware was missing all the soup spoons because she sold them
thinking they'd just use tea spoons. Tea spoons were perfectly serviceable.

But now they were tiny, and as Bella took a tester taste of her soup, she barely
got a mouthful. Stupid fucking spoons.

Bella laid out her matching wine glasses proudly. But they looked ostentatious
and ridiculous next to her mismatched table.

One of the chair legs was close to giving. She had to remind herself not to let
Emmett sit there.

Bella surveyed her table and plopped herself on the floor and began to cry. She
was not a woman that gave into useless crying fits easily, or often, but as
everyone in the entire world had decided to tell her, her body was being shared
by another person now.

And this tiny tadpole sized person was a whiny emotional mess.

Edward found her there, ten minutes later, slumped on the floor. He sat down
beside her and let her crawl into his lap and cry for a little. He'd learned the
question "what's wrong" would just induce more tears.

Edward didn't want to change his shirt, so he kept quiet. She'd talk when she felt
like it.

"We're not grown ups," Bella stated.

"Okay, why aren't we grown ups?" Humor her he reminded himself.

"We don't match."

Edward looked down at them. Bella was in a pretty green dress, barefoot because
she found the concept of being barefoot and pregnant utterly hilarious. She spent
the majority of her time in the kitchen, when she was home, giggling to herself.

She was so, so weird. Edward liked her weird, so it was okay.

"We match, Baby. Maybe some shoes?" Edward liked her little toes too much to
press the shoe issue.

She gestured to the table and let a fresh sob go.

Edward liked their dining set. It was mismatched and crazy and it just went
together. He liked to think it represented them.

He wished she hadn't sold the spoons though.

"The glasses look good," he tried.

"You need to pick up some wine." You couldn't serve milk or juice or beer in fancy
wine glasses. It wasn't done.

"Bella, no one likes wine."

Bella kicked her bare feet in unhappiness.

"Were you this fucking crazy when I married you?" Edward laughed.

"Don't swear around the fucking baby. He can hear you, that's why we play
Mozart and sh-shiitake mushroom." Bella's cover-ups were very creative, and
often better than the real thing.

Edward just laughed and kissed her.

"I'll go get wine, Sweetheart." It had to be cheap, the last of his savings was
dwindling, and between his hours at school and trying to be home for Bella, he
didn't get to put in enough hours at his job for a real paycheck.

Bella leapt up, former despair forgotten entirely. She kissed him happily and went
back to stirring the soup. It was a little burnt on the bottom.

She'd say it was "blackened". Bella was very clever.

Edward left for the liquor store, worrying the last twenty in his pocket. He'd have
to ask Carlisle for money. He hated the thought, even though Carlisle himself had
tried to shove money at him every chance he got.

He passed a lit up sign proclaiming all sorts of wonderful things.

He passed it again on his way back.

Edward was late getting home with the wine.

Chapter 8- Babe

Unfamiliar smelling sweat and flesh rubbed against her as the man above her
groaned deep and guttural and a little comical. They always made the most
ridiculous noises.

"Oh, give it to me Honey." She used her old stand by pet name. Never babe or
baby or sweetheart, because those were his. Never, ever names. Names were
Edward, and only Edward.

She had learned that men's names didn't matter much. They were very rarely
offended when she didn't ask, but always offended when she did but got it wrong.

"That's right, come on my cock." Bella almost laughed, because really, did that
work? Was she expected to burst into mass amounts of overwhelming ecstasy
now?

But her problem wasn't with the man on top of her, so she moaned and cried and
tried not to sound too fake as she did a few kegal exercises and squeezed him. It
wasn't his fault he couldn't make her come.

She was all up in her head. She could only come if she thought about him, and
she stopped doing that a year ago, because it was just mean.

Bella was not a mean woman.

His hips slapped against hers and she thrust up to meet him, because he did buy
her all those drinks, and he did tell her she was beautiful and he did go down on
her until she took pity on his tongue and faked it.

But he just kept going. He was one of those men who tried to get two out of her.
Honey, you can't even get one. She was a second away from sticking her finger
up his butt, cause trust, that was an instant way to get a guy off. And for them to
not ask for your number as they called a cab or dropped you off.

They loved it, but they'd never say.

Bella had a lot of theys.

But then he shuttered and went unfocused and Bella moved her hand.
Unnecessary.

As he came and said the fake name she gave him, she was Lily tonight, she
stroked his hair and smiled soft and was nice, for a little while.

He kissed her shoulder and rolled over, pulling her to him. This was the worst
part. When they wanted her to stay. When they asked what she was doing
tomorrow, if they needed to set an alarm.

When they were very nice, she'd just slip out in the middle of the night. She'd
turn their alarm off because the only thing worse than waking up alone when you
don't expect it is waking up alone to someone else's alarm.

"I have to get going," she softened the blow with kisses over his eye lids and
across his cheek. She was not a mean woman.

Edward had loved that he was the only one she'd ever kissed, the only one she'd
ever touched.

If he could see her now.

"I can set an alarm if you need to be up," he was already falling asleep. "Don't
go, Babe."

"Don't call me that."

Chapter 9- Fucking Hippy

When Edward's father would hit him too hard, Edward would pour a few
tablespoon's worth of Clorox in his coffee.

He'd throw up for days and days and think God was punishing him. God was, of
course, by sending him a child clever enough to know how much to put in so that
it wasn't traceable.

Edward liked chemistry.

On the day that Edward's father grabbed his chest and his heart finally decided it
was too much work pumping blood into such a mean body, he had broken
Edward's leg.

Edward had been generous with the coffee, and a little worried he had killed the
man.

Edward did not want to go to jail, because jail was Bella-less. To not see her
every day would be agony. He would rather his father live forever and break his
leg every single day.

When Chief Swan saw the autopsy report he closed his eyes, and breathed in and
out very slowly, and went over to arrest a boy he loved very, very much. Bella
heard him leave the house and her stomach clenched. Edward was in trouble.

She ran to the Cullen's and pinched her side until there were tears shining in her
eyes, and launched herself at her Daddy. Charlie caught her and tried to send her
home, so he wouldn't have to break her heart along with his, and vowed to try
and get Edward the best plea bargain he could.

"I'm sorry!" Bella cried, and now was just not the time for whatever she broke, so
Charlie just shook his head and pushed her away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to add so much!"

Charlie's entire heart stopped for exactly four seconds. Edward's stopped for ten,
and that's why he didn't say anything.

"What, Peach?" He hadn't called her that in two years, at least.

"Don't be mad," and now she was crying for real, because she was just breaking,
breaking his heart.

"Bella no," Edward was too quiet to hear, with his heart clogging his throat.

"He broke his leg and I just… I put it in his coffee. I poured in the bleach." Bella
confessed, even though she hadn't. She had, however, wanted to. But it was
Edward's one vengeance, and she didn't share his bruises, even though they hurt
her too, so she let him have this one thing alone.

Charlie Swan sat down for a long time. Long enough to miss the game, and for
him to not realize he was very hungry, and long enough to realize that nothing in
this world was more important than the life he created with that crazy woman.
This was definitely Renee's side.

"Baby, Edward Sr. died of a heart attack." He did, but the bleach would have
killed him too. He had started vomiting blood a few months ago.

Three more cups of coffee would have done it.

"But-"

"Edward Sr. died of a heart attack, kids."

Four days later, when he was laid to rest, Charlie didn't attend. He wasn't sad
that bastard was gone, and he was busy throwing away every cleaning product
he owned.

Edward had screamed at Bella until they both cried.

Charlie put Bella in unnecessary therapy and told her to never, ever tell a soul.

They had all natural non toxic cleaning products until the day Bella moved out.

The clerk at the grocery store thought Charlie was a fucking hippy.

Chapter 10- Killing us

"I found a way to take care of us." His hand was warm on her flat stomach, all
the way to her spine. Edward always ran a little hotter than others. Wonderful in
the winter, but in the summer she sweltered but never let her head rest
anywhere but his sweaty shoulder.

"We'll always be taken care of," Bella had faith of the I got you babe form. Rent
and grocery money worries were for those of lesser love.

"Did you ask Carlisle for money?"

His pride hurt that she would even suggest that he would. Edward was a man. He
had a family, almost. He was handling this by himself.

"I signed up."

"For what, E?" Bella wanted something, but she wasn't sure what it was. Maybe
cherries?

"I enlisted, Bella. The army."

"No."

"Babe-"

Bella sank to the floor and rested her back on the cabinets, and sat there for a
very long time.

"They'll ruin you." Edward wouldn't even march in band.

"They won't. Look," he pulled out brochures and some false enthusiasm and
showed them both to Bella. "They'll pay for college and housing and you get all
sorts of tax incentives-"

"This. This is better than going to your step father?" Bella wanted to throw herself
down the stairs until there was no family for Edward to go to war for. Babies
would come and go but there was only one Edward.

"I can't do that, Bella. Let me at least be half a man." He wanted to set a good
example. He hoped it was a boy.

"If you die, if you fucking die I'll never forgive you. I'll hate you for the rest of my
life if you die!" Bella made herself stand and come back to life so he wouldn't lose
his.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen Bella," he held her face too tight because she was
pulling away. "We're in love. We're forever, nothing truly bad can happen to us."

"I can feel it, you're going to die." She was hiccupping and gasping and shaking.
He was her world. Her whole entire world, what was he doing?

"Baby, no. We're okay, we're us. Nothing bad happens to us."

Bella heard the glass shatter before she realized she had thrown it at him. "So
we're too young and in love for a bullet to go into your heart?"

"If it does, yours will just have to beat for mine."

Her scream was primal. Her heart was racing and she knew his was too, because
they beat the same. They thumped and raced and slowed to the same rhythm,
their blood flowed the exact same way, their breath shuttered and evened in
symmetry.

When she was ill, he hurt. When he had a cold, she blew her nose in great big
unattractive honks that he found sexy, because she was herself with him, always.

They were attached, in every way.

He was going to die, and he was killing her.

He reached out and for the first time in her entire life, Bella stepped away from
his touch.

"How can you touch me, with all that blood on your hands?"

He was murdering them.

Chapter 11- Give a lot

Every swipe of his tongue was an 'I love you'.

Every "yes" and "please" and "more" and "fuck" that fell out of her mouth was a
validation.

They were young and flawless and utterly beautiful, twisted up together like this.

No one else in the entire world existed when he ran his finger over the seam of
her panties.

He died when she bit at the skin behind his ear.

But he refused to go further than this. When she wiggled her hips under him and
pleaded, he'd shut up kiss her. When she'd give a frustrated groan, he'd slide a
compromising finger into her.

Edward was all about giving a little so he wouldn't have to give a lot.

Not that he didn't want to have sex. It was all his nineteen year old body wanted.
He did depraved, nasty, wonderful things to Bella in his mind. He flipped her over
and bent her like a pretzel, he opened her mouth for his pleasure, he tied her up
but never, ever spanked her. He made love to her, he fucked her, he did the in
between shit. But he couldn't.

He didn't want to cause her pain. He'd tried once, a month ago, but got half an
inch in and went limp because Bella tensed just a little.

He knew it was only the first time, but any blood that was shed because of him…
no.

They were basically doomed.

Bella was highly sexualized, like most girls with devastatingly perfect boyfriends
were, and had been throwing herself at Edward since she was thirteen. She was
fucking killing him.

"I can't, Sweetheart I can't hurt you."

Bella huffed. "You won't."

"You know it's going to hurt, Baby."

"Not anymore," Bella muttered.

Edward shot off the bed and grabbed a glass from Bella's bedside table and threw
it across the room.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean Isabella?" Edward was impressively angry,
but Bella wasn't scared.

"I'm not a virgin anymore, but I mean, it didn't count," Bella explained.

Edward's chest burned and his arms tingled and he was pretty sure he tasted
pennies because he was so angry he was going to have a stroke. He wanted to
fucking kill her. He wanted to kill himself.

"Edward no!" Bella finally cottoned on.

"Didn't fucking count Bella? It counts. I have never, never touched anyone else,
and I fucking waited for you to grow up, and I loved you and I was patient and I
fucking worshiped you."

He needed to get out of this room before he set it on fire.

"I broke it myself!"

What now?

"I used a you know," Bella gave him an embarrassed, meaningful glance. Ah.
Totally hot.

"When? Why?" Edward slumped on the bed, feeling like an asshole.

"After we tried last time, and because I knew you couldn't hurt me, even if you
and I wanted it. So I did it myself. It wasn't terrible." It was, in fact, terrible. It
hurt and the plastic was cold, and she bled so much and so fast that she had to
flip the mattress over. She wasn't ready because she couldn't get in the mood
because this wasn't Edward, and only Edward turned her on. She used this awful
strawberry scented lube because Edward had just bought her a fucking case of
strawberry shower gel and bubble bath because he liked her smelling sweet.

It was sticky and artificial and so was the entire experience.

But it was worth it, because now Edward wouldn't sit up and scoot away and tug
his hair and chant apologies and love and say "I can't, I can't, I can't" over and
over until the words blur and she had to hold him down to the world.

"You did it alone? You did that alone for me?" Edward was devastated and
touched and barely a man.

Bella sniffled, even though she promised herself she wouldn't. "Yeah."

"Baby, I'm so, so sorry."

"I only wanted you, and we couldn't… it's okay."

"It's not."

"Then make it okay?" She laid back down, and reached her hand out to him.

Edward took her hand and laid on top, and let her have his full weight. Bella was
crushed in the best, best way. "We do things together from now on." He kissed
her face, all over.

Bella opened her legs and he fell between him, and said "always".

It still hurt a little, but Bella covered it up in kisses so he wouldn't know.

Chapter 12- Becoming Edward Cullen

Edward Masen always thought the phrase "wearing a hole in the rug" was stupid.
But now he understood. He had been pacing back and forth for at least three
hours, in front of the door that separated him from a man that was incredibly
easy to talk to. Who had told Edward that he could come to him for anything,
anytime.

Edward hoped he wasn't a liar, but expected him to be. After all, why would this
man want to do such a big favor for someone like Edward? But this wasn't about
or for Edward, really.

With that in mind, he knocked and entered the room. The floor around the door
looked a little patchy, like he had been pacing as well.

"Big day today, son." There was something about Carlisle Cullen that put you at
ease, instantly. He was very calm, and always in control.

Control was something Edward admired, and lack of control was something
Edward inherited.

"Do you mean that?" He kept his head down as he asked, eye contact was never
something Edward was very good at.

"Do I mean what?" Carlisle understood, and kept his eyes on his tie. He wanted
to hear it from Edward.

"When you call me son?" It was too low to actually hear, but Carlisle was waiting
for it.

"I do."

"Heh, you're telling that to the wrong person," Edward might throw up. He was
really fucking nervous.

"Yes, I mean it when I call you son." Carlisle wasn't one of those men who
married a woman with children and didn't try to take over the role of father. He
absolutely wanted to take over that role. Especially with this boy who was almost
too old to need one.

Carlisle loved Edward the second he met him, and Edward told him "if you hurt
my mother, ever, I'll chop you up, put you in a fish tank full of bleach and bury
you." One, because it was protective, and two, because as covering your tracks
went, it was a decent plan.

Esme had a lot of land back there.

"I… I want to change my name." Edward knew he was messing up his mother's
careful work as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't mind being a Masen,
even though it reminds me of him, cause it reminds me to be careful. But…"

"You love her." Carlisle's smile was gentle, like his hands, and his heart.

"I don't want Bella to have that bastard's name. Even if he's dead, she hated him
and I don't want her to have it." She'd hate it, every time she wrote her name.

He'd already decided he was going to marry her, up in her new room. Of course,
back then it was because she had a stash of kit kat bars in her bedside drawer.

"Of course you can take my name. I was hoping." He'd never say it, but he would
love to have his boy share his name.

"Thank you." There wasn't anything that he could say without crying like a little
girl.

They dressed in silence, and when Edward walked his mother down the aisle,
they both became Cullens.

Chapter 13- Prosta-tot

Bella had never particularly liked Rosalie Hale.

Rosalie was a contrived wet dream. She pretended to enjoy football and fast cars,
when really, all she wanted was attention. Bella had caught her tinkering under
the hood of her car, caressing the engine and then frantically using a wet wipe.

Heaven forbid perfection get dirty.

Bella was the one to explain football to Rosalie when she started cheering for the
wrong team.

Everything about Rosalie was fake.

So when Rosalie stood before little Bella, armed with a curling iron and a sense of
superiority, offering to give a make over to Bella, Bella found herself laughing.
Why would Bella want to be a lie?

Edward liked her as she was, and that was worth more validation than a hallway
of boys staring after her as she swung her hips to some unknown rhythm.

Rosalie sighed at her, because she was bored and wanted to play, and Bella
never, ever wanted to do anything with her. Rose was doing her a kindness. Bella
was pretty, but Rosalie could make her better.

"Bella, you're going into high school today. It's different there, you can't walk
around in Edward's old shirts and jeans." Rosalie had woken Bella up when the
sky was just starting to give up to the weak sun, and all Bella wanted to do was
crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour.

She had thrown her pillow at Rosalie, and then her clock, and almost her CD
player but caught herself before she did.

But Rosalie picked up Bella, all sleepy fury and ninety-five pounds of sleep
deprived, and threw her into the shower. They were bonding.

Bella cursed beautifully, thanks to Edward, and let Rosalie know exactly where
she could stick her make up, and her perfume, and her stupid curling iron. But
Rosalie pointed Bella's magical removable showerhead at Bella's mouth, and shut
her up quick.

Bella washed as Rosalie went on and on about classes and how different
everything would be.

It would be different, because now she and Edward would be in the same school.
She could see him all the time, and he would maybe kiss her, like he had last
week. She was nearly fourteen now, and he had promised.

"And of course, there's all these girls, so I mean, it's not like you'll see Edward
that much, so that'll be the same." Bella didn't see Rosalie's mean smile behind
the shower door.

Bella pulled the door open, exposing a tiny body Rosalie hated her a little for.
Bella ate the most horrendous stuff, it wasn't fair. Rosalie lived off of carrots and
celery.

She had turned faintly orange last year. So now it was just celery.

Rosalie wasn't mean, she was just really fucking hungry.

"What girls?"

"Oh, Tanya Denali has been after Edward for a year. She's so pretty." Rosalie
patted Bella's wet little hand like Bella had already lost.

"Bullshit. Edward's never talked about any Tanya before." Bella would kick her
ass.

"Well, duh."

A tiny worming seed of doubt hurt Bella's soul. Edward was meant for Bella, they
both knew that. But Tanya didn't.

So Bella rinsed off and dried off and let Rosalie curl and pluck and dress her up
until she looked like a little doll. The effect was both lovely and creepy, with a
slightly flared skirt and a little baby doll t-shirt, all innocence until Rosalie gave
her red lips and sex hair. Bella looked like a debauched child, and Bella was glad
Charlie left early for the station.

Rosalie gave her a ride to school, and they sat in uncomfortable silence as Rose's
shitty music played. Only posers liked Good Charlotte.

When they arrived, Bella bolted from the car and right into Edward.

Edward looked her over quietly, and every perverted, sick thought played out in
his head. She was just a baby. A pretty baby. He should have told her fifteen.

He reached into Rosalie's glove compartment, threw aside a pack of condoms,
such a slut, and grabbed some baby wipes. He held Bella's little chin and wiped
off all of Rosalie's handiwork. "Hair-tie Babe?" Bella pulled one out of the purse
Rose insisted she bring, even though she had a backpack. Edward pushed her
head down until Bella flipped it upside down, and Edward gathered her hair into a
pony tail, stiff with all the shit Rose had used. Bella straightened and Edward
pushed her skirt down a little.

"There's my girl."

Edward had never particularly liked Rosalie Hale.

Chapter 14- Next time

"You're holding it wrong." He was going to get shot on the first fucking day.

How had Bella never taught Edward how to shoot? Bella was of the Charlie
infused opinion that all men should know how to handle a gun.

"How am I holding it wrong?" Edward was pointing it the right way, which was all
that mattered to him. Away from Bella and himself.

"Um, the kickback is going to break your fucking nose, but go ahead and stay like
that." It would be good for him to break his nose. He'd fix his stance. Her back
hurt like a bitch.

"Don't get fucking lippy, Bella." She was in her seventh month of pregnancy, and
probably the most unpleasant person on the entire earth.

"Lower your shoulder, please." She was trying to help. She was even saying
please. Her feet were killing her.

Edward ignored her, because he was trained in this stuff, and she was just being
critical because she hated the army. He hadn't even been off base yet, he didn't
know why she was so worried. He aimed at the target and pulled the trigger.

Bella covered her ears the second Edward's finger squeezed the trigger, but even
then, she heard his loud yell.

He was on his ass, with blood pouring from his nose, just like she said. If this had
happened to anyone else, Bella would be pointing and laughing because really,
hadn't she just told him he was going to get hurt? But it was Edward, so she was
on her knees beside him, trying to push his hands away.

"Let me see, Edward." Blood was everywhere, just like when he'd crawl into bed
with her. The copper and rust always made her want to vomit, because that smell
meant Edward was hurting.

"Not even broken, Sweetheart." It was a little broken, but Bella didn't say. Bella
picked up the gun, put the safety on (there it was, Edward thought) and held her
hand out to her husband.

She was round with his child, but the same everywhere else, holding her hand
out. The picture of womanly compassion.

He knew his nose was probably broken, if she looked so sweet. Sweet had
disappeared around month six, replaced with sore feet and general sullenness.
But Edward got up, and let his wife take him into the house, murmuring nice
things to him.

She cleaned him up and pushed his nose into place casually while he yelled in
pain. The setting was always worse than the breaking. But she kissed him gently
on the tip of his definitely broken nose, and that made it all better.

"That hurt," he told her, under ice.

"I bet it did," she said, pushing his hair back and off his face as she cleaned the
blood off his chin and cheeks.

"If my stance gets better, I'll be ready." He tugged on her skirt. "I don't want to
leave yet, not until the baby is born," he confessed.

Edward had gotten beautiful marks in everything. His superior officers thought he
was a natural leader, and couldn't wait to get him out on the field. Edward
couldn't regress without suspicion, but he could keep messing up the one thing
he wasn't great at.

Edward was a hell of a soldier, aside from target practice.

"They'll send you when they send you." Bella tried not to think about it. "But you
need to go being… well, the fucking best you can be."

Edward just wanted to see his son born.

That night, Bella took Edward outside, and taught him how to shoot.

In the dark, for one brief, terrifying moment, Bella almost shot Edward in the leg.
If he was missing from the knee down, the army would release him and she'd still
love him, fake leg or not.

But Bella could never bring herself to hurt him, so she lowered his gun and
handed it to him. He watched her silently in the reflective surface of one of the
targets, wondering if she'd do it next time.

Chapter 15: Love you, love you, love this.

"More." That was Bella.

"Please." Edward, this time.

"Yes." Bella again.

"Love you." Both.

Bella was on the cusp of incoherency. Her last thought was that they were a little
bit of a cliché, fucking in the backseat like this.

Fogged up windows and heady pants complimented thrusting so uneven and
frantic that the Volvo shook with it.

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart, Always.

Clasped hands and joined mouths and slippery, sticky wonderful. Panting and yes
and a little to the left and all over, just touch me here and here and here. Musk
and strawberry and thank God she shaved her legs.

Pretty dress on the dashboard, tie not being used properly. Impossible in the
morning hair, too firm grasps, pull up baby not like this. Murmurs and cries and
god tingles all over can't you feel it?

Love you, love you, love this.

Tight wet too big stretching still hurt in the best way.

Toes curled and stretched and can I have another?

Bite and suck and good things, always.

Not too hard, are you okay?

Stop in the middle. Catch your breath baby, you stopped. In and out. No, not
that, the air.

Giggles, never what he wanted to hear, but fuck it made it better.

Faster? He doesn't think he can, but if she keeps begging and chanting like that,
he'll try.

Harder? He could do that.

Back hurting thrusts and sharp moans and are you hurt? No, never hurt.

Lay back, twist around, like that. Foot cramp, fuck my head, okay hold on baby
just a sec.

Sweaty and hair in his mouth not from there don't be disgusting, keening
overwhelmed too much. Perfect.

There and there and no. Not there. Shifting, apologies.

Try not to pound. Too slippery.

Jesus Christ, there.

Love you, love you, love this.

She gets hers, she gets hers first. Focus. Don't lose it. Control. Edward thinks of
his Grandma and dead puppies and fucking anything to make that itch in the
back of his spine go away.

"Touch me."

He loves her more when she begs.

"I am."

He finds her g-spot, and his cock is at a crazy angle, but that shit works for her.
Rough, uneven patch of skin. Just where the book said. He's a rockstar.
Screaming, sharp pain down his back.

Fuck it's good. It's all so good.

"Gonna."

Fucking finally.

Don't lose it baby.

Hitch. Up goes her leg. Roll over. Let me see you.

Open those eyes.

Stutter. Break rhythm. Fingers flex. Eyelids flutter. Dramatic head toss she saw in
porn. Real one. Thighs shaking, salad for a week.

"God, fuck, damn it." Sinners.

Leather seats and sticky and a little gross but too young and too caught up to
care. Cars and lights flashing by. Don't get caught. Keep it down.

Clutch harder. Not close enough. Never close enough. Slap, slap, swivel. Explode.

Stars and lights are overrated. Arch and sleepy.

She got hers.

My turn, fucking please.

Do you have and no and it's okay we'll make it work. I love you and pull out and
too late and too much and it's okay baby, everything is okay. Flawless and in
love.

They were untouchable when they touched.

Chapter 16- Fatherhood

Edward Jr. was doing the sort of crying he only did when he knew his father was
close to the edge. That awful, I'm hurt but you can't find it, so you'll just panic
cry.

When he cried like that, his father hurt just as much. Every unnamed pain was
targeted right at Edward's heart.

"What, what, baby?" turned into "please, please stop," leaned into "please, I
don't know what's wrong."

His son, his perfect son was red faced and screaming. He wasn't wet, or dirty, he
wasn't hungry, or thirsty. He was just crying. He used his little three month old
lungs to the best of their ability.

Edward eventually put him down on the sofa, stretched between his legs, because
he had just started to try and roll. He tugged at his hair and looked into the same
green eyes. Both were swimming with helpless tears.

"You… just stop crying, okay Bud? I'm gonna need you to stop crying." Edward
was desperate here. Where was Bella? She had to be pushed out the door, and
now she's late?

"Where's your mother?"

When Bella reappeared, fucking finally, Edward was bouncing the baby slowly,
chanting soft and sweet and low "shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up," in the
kindest voice she'd ever heard.

His eyes were exhausted.

The baby was still whimpering and crying and Edward wanted to take him to the
hospital, or a priest, or to his mother because he was twenty one, and this was
too hard.

"You kiss your son with that mouth?" Bella asked. She still had the serene smug
glow of new motherhood, and was above swearing, and Pampers, and premade
baby food.

Edward, not quite as quietly pleased with himself at creating life, just glared.

"Is he wet?" Of course Bella knew what the problem was instantly. She was his
mother.

Edward had fucking tried that one already. He laid his red faced son down and
showed Bella a perfectly folded dry cloth diaper. There was a sharp whimper of
pain that had both of Edward Jr's parents swiveling their heads in his direction.
Abruptly, after one hiccup, the crying stopped.

There were two tiny round red holes on his left hip, where the safety pin that held
together his diaper had pierced his skin.

Edward forgot about the almost-rolling as he backed away slowly.

His face was horror struck.

"It happens," Bella reasoned, and picked up her diaper-less son. "He's fine, see,
no more crying."

He was already half asleep, pain forgotten. Crying took a lot out of a new person.

"I… fuck. Fuck Bella." Edward was going to turn himself in. What kind of father
didn't check for stabbing pins?

Bella put that baby in the crib, and reached out to Edward. "He's fine, he is. Don't
freak out, Edward."

But Edward was already freaking out. He was already overreacting and feeling
like shit.

He had little barely noticeable pin prick scars. Behind his ears, and under the
nape of his hair and on the soles of his feet.

"You're not him," Bella pointed out.

He just shook his head.

"Did you want to hurt him?" Bella whispered.

Edward stared at her in shock and disgust. How could she think such a thing?

"Well then, that's the difference between you and your father." She took his hand
and dragged him over to the crib, where Edward Jr. was fast asleep, little cooing
noises coming out of him.

"Look at what you've done, Babe." Edward stared at the red marks. "No, stop."
She took his hand in hers, and traced the lines of their sleeping child. "Look at
what you've done."

My God, he was perfect. They made perfect.

Chapter 17- I killed a man today

War was surreal.

Bullets didn't wiz by, too fast to notice. You could track them with your eyes, if
you were crazy enough to look at the fucker shooting at you or around you or
near you.

Edward saw each bullet bang out from his gun.

He had killed seven people. He got his first four months ago, and was cheered
and patted on the shoulder and smiled at until he threw up and burst into tears.

He had not expected to cry. Maybe the army was already shirking it's promises.
Weren't they supposed to make him a man?

The thought of touching Bella with hands that had held a gun was repugnant. The
thought of smoothing back that messy hair on his two year old sons' perfect head
with the finger that had squeezed a trigger and taken a man's life was
overwhelming.

It was loud here. Always loud, even when the gun fire and the bombs were gone,
there was always people calling out or selling or talking. And always laughing.
Someone always found something uproariously funny. Jokes about wives or the
enemy or shit back home.

Someone always had a fucking smile.

Edward had faked it for a while, and laughed with the rest. He smiled because
Bella told him that if he smiled, he'd make friends no problem. So he stood up
straight and smiled and laughed with all the rest and hated, hated, hated them
all.

It wasn't them. They were all around good guys, some here for the same reasons
he was; money and family. Some were career army, something he couldn't even
contemplate, and some were violent bastards with tattoos who held their guns
wrong but claimed reformation. But they were part of this. They were part of this
war that he hated, they cleaned the guns that he shot, the slapped his back and
laughed and shared their goodies from back home.

They weren't home, or Bella, or Edward Jr. So he hated them. He hated that sign
that promised all sorts of wonderful things and delivered only half of them. He
hated his superior officers for praising him when he killed a man.

He hated himself most of all. Because he was here of his own doing. And he was
a fucking hypocrite for hating them, because he signed up too, and he saluted
and shot and he had his reasons for being here. But all the same, he hated them.

"Mail today," Ben muttered. Ben Cheney was a weak chinned version of Edward.
He hated this place, the people, and himself almost as much as Edward did. His
wife, Angela, sent cookies every week.

Bella sent dirty pictures, pin up girl style.

Edward loved that woman to distraction.

"You gonna share this time?" Edward asked, even though Ben always did. Edward
had his fingers crossed for white chocolate with pecans.

Ben smirked, "you gonna?"

Edward would kick his ass.

"I'm just kidding, man. But when we get the fuck out of here, you owe me
dinner." Edward nodded.

Ben nodded to the truck on the other side of the road. War was supposed to be
shouts of "INCOMING" and clearly defended enemies, but it wasn't. It was spot
the sneaky motherfucker before he blows you up.

Edward got low and prepared to take another life.

Bullets didn't wiz by, too fast to notice. You could track them with your eyes, if
you were crazy enough to look at the fucker shooting at you or around you or
near you.

But he didn't see the one that hit him, straight in the back of his head, and made
a home in his brain.

Chapter 18- Honey, Baby mine.

Bella was the kind of horny that lead people to put their dick in a vacuum cleaner
hose, or hump a well used cushion. She was fucking prison horny all the time.

She ran her hand up Edward's exhausted thigh, and he groaned. It wasn't a
happy groan. "Sweetheart, no more," he muttered.

No more? Unacceptable.

Bella's back ached, and she wanted Edward to give her an orgasm and make it go
away.

"Please?" That usually did it.

"Babe, my dick is exhausted. I want to, really." He didn't. He had sex four times
today, all in the span of five hours. He was done. He loved her, but he was done
for tonight.

She rubbed her little fingers over the slit on his head. "Mmm, that's precum," she
smiled. She was gonna get some.

"It's tears," Edward muttered to himself. So, so tired.

"Is it because I'm so fat now?"

Edward sighed the sigh of a man who had had this conversation many, many
times. "You're not fat. You're pregnant."

"I'm gonna name the baby Banana Split," Bella mused.

"That's better than some of the stuff you've come up with," Edward laughed.

"I'm fat and you're mean."

It was silent for a moment.

"Make up sex?" Bella asked.

Edward's penis wanted to cry. He'd had a long day. "Can I go to sleep right
after?" Edward asked.

Bella hopped on him. Edward gasped a little. She was in her ninth month, and
frankly, he couldn't toss her around like he used to. So he laid her on her side
and didn't bother with foreplay. She was already ready.

They both sighed happily as he entered her. Edward forgot to be tired as he
kissed along her neck and shoulders, and Bella was already shaking.

Edward pushed into her harder, drawing her leg up carefully.

A wet gush covered him. Really wet.

He looked down. Clear water like fluid covered him and her and the sheets. Bella
blinked.

Edward jumped up and pointed down at her. "Fucking gross, Bella," he accused.

"It's not pee! Holy shit," she was not ready.

Edward was wiping himself off with a towel, unhappily. "Edward… I think my
water broke."

"What?"

Edward ran to Bella and hiked her leg up way too fucking far and squinted. "I
don't see anything." All the classes in the world would not make a new father
intelligent.

"It doesn't pop right out! Get my bags!"

Bella dialed Carlisle, even though Carlisle had explained that he had seen one
baby delivered, and that was back in medical school. But he'd be in the room
anyway, to ease both of them.

They made it to the hospital in record time.

Bella was gowned and Edward was scrubbed and Esme and Carlisle were happily
holding her hands as Bella wondered what all the fuss was about. This was mildly
uncomfortable. Her back hurt a little.

Drama queens.

Bella refused any drugs and made Edward promise not to let her have any. She
didn't want her child coming out all loopy.

Bella was going to be the best mom.

Three hours later, she was fully dilated, screaming her fool head off. Edward was
missing a patch of hair on the nape of his neck because he made the mistake of
getting too close. Between Bella's fervent apologies (she was only sorry when she
wasn't pushing. When she was, he deserved it.) and screaming, a baby boy was
born.

He was covered in cottage cheese and smears of blood and he yelled just like his
mother.

As he was placed in arms too tired to hold him properly, he opened his little eyes,
and he took in the world.

"Oh," Bella squeaked.

Chapter 19- Trapped

It was going to be a bad day. Only Edward's eyes were especially green this
morning. When she asked him to close those frog eyes, he just rolled them and
went over to the piano and started to play. Bella never gave him lessons. He just
knew how.

When she dropped him off at his classroom and went to hers, neither of them
said "I love you."

It wasn't an I love you day.

She'd make it up to him tomorrow, with over affection and disgusting cut up hot
dogs and noodles. Tomorrow would be better.

Her hands shook all day, her skin itched. When her students played cops and
robbers at free time, each BANG BANG made her jump.

Edward's birthday was tomorrow.

If she closed her eyes, he was right there.

She made a shaky handed phone call to Emmett, voice fake bright and peppy, as
she asked him to do his godfatherly duty and come play with Only Edward.

She wasn't up to the daunting task of motherhood just now.

Bella got home, and got the bottle. Her skin prickled, and tingled, each and every
place he had ever touched her. Behind her ear, and smoothing her hair and
between her legs. He sung in her body, sweet and low and constant.

There was no peace here, inside her skin. He was in her.

She poured a third of a bottle of the body wash on her too-dry skin. It made a
sticky, fruity mess, and clung to her even when she washed it off.

Residue everywhere. In her heart and on her skin and just… just fucking
everywhere.

Her nails scraped at the film until a little blood peaked out to say hello.

Edward called to her.

He was inside her, in her skin, across her heart, squeezing her lungs, dancing in
her veins. She needed to see him.

The rare rational part of her subconscious told her she could. She could see
lifeless, if she went to pay her respects.

But Edward was there, alive and well, in her veins. She had to let him out. She
mixed the blood and left over suds until they stung and bit at her but he was
trapped and she was trapped and god, just let her she his face. She'd be good,
just please. Let her see his face.

The water was a little pink but he was still trapped. Neither of them could
breathe.

Bella got out, dripping, and padded to the kitchen. She scratched up and down
her arms, pink and red and raw but nothing hurt. Nothing could ever, ever hurt
as much as not seeing him. There was no little pains, for her.

She dug him out with a butter knife in her veins until she saw his furious,
beautiful angel baby face.

He was screaming his head off at her, handing her the phone and telling her how
selfish… how nothing in this world could be that bad.

"Not yet Baby, please," he whispered. It was good to hear his voice.

She dialed Carlisle, because Edward had asked so nicely.

When she was trussed up in gauze and concern, Carlisle stopped being a doctor
and looked down at her arms with shaking hands. She had been doing so well.

"Jesus, Isabella, what did you use!"

"My nails." Her tongue was fuzzy.

"What?"

"He was under my skin… I had to let him out. We were trapped there."

Chapter 20- They were a love story.

"They say you're never gonna wake up." His hand was a perfect ninety-eight
point six. Did they even control that?

It was the first time she touched him in three years.

"They say that that tube and that machine are going to breathe for you, and that
machine," she pointed even though his eyes were perpetually closed, "is going to
beat your heart for you. Those nurses are going to turn you and move your legs,
and that tube in your arm is giving you vitamins and that tube is feeding you and
aren't you just a fucking, fucking plethora of equipment?" She wanted to rip them
all out because she breathed for him and she beat for him and she ate for him.
But it wasn't enough and she wasn't enough and he would die even more.

"He's six now." She listed off facts about their son, the way he smelled and his
dislike for math and his occasional overwhelming tantrums. Even after all this
time, she wasn't sure she could do this alone. Or anything alone really.

"But you don't know anything about him, do you?" She stroked the IV in his arm.
"This is your fault. You aren't doing a very good job taking care of us."

She sat down and didn't look at him for an hour, because he wasn't looking at
her. They were always equal. Tit for tat. He wasn't looking or speaking so she
wasn't.

Slowly, carefully, she moved and scraped and drug her chair over to the side of
the bed. She sat, and wiggled her hand under the blanket and tickled right behind
his knee. He was always ticklish there, and would react, even in a deep sleep.

His knee jerked, and Bella screamed and ran out of the room and peered around
the corner because was he awake? Would he open his frog eyes and look at her
and hate her?

But it was just the knee jerk.

Reflex.

Those bits worked.

She came back in the room and leaned over all those tubes and beeps and that
sack of flesh and told it she loved it.

No reaction.

She'd whisper in his ear, in the dead of night or the heat of passion and all those
other clichéd phrases they lived, and he'd always tell her it back. That's how they
worked. Tit for tat.

She swore, even though it was impossible and she was half crazy by just being
here, that he frowned at her.

"Don't you dare judge me, Edward." She plopped into the chair by his bedside.
She had no one to be graceful for. "This is your fault. I'm your fault."

He said nothing.

So she risked it. He would never know, and her heart couldn't possibly hurt any
more than it already did. So she slipped off her shoes, and she pulled her hair out
of it's messy bun, and she slid in the bed with him, under the blankets, and over
the sheets until she felt flesh and soft cotton pajamas. His own, not the hospitals.
She avoided the tubes like they weren't there, and pressed one arm over his

stomach, still flat but not nearly as developed, and put her head on his chest and
listened to his heart beat.

It was steady, and for once, did not match her own. So she quieted her breath
until her chest rose and fell in the same rhythm as his. She hushed her heart with
thoughts of pleasant, slow days until it matched the beeping in her ear and the
slow, steady drumming on her cheek. She clasped their hands, warm and perfect,
no matter what.

They were in harmony. Heartbroken peace filled her.

In his head, Edward was watching the most beautiful story. Bella with skinny legs
and big brown eyes as she showed him her room. Bella kicking at the floor with
misplaced jealousy towards her mother. Bella barefoot and pregnant, Bella
screaming at him as she brought the most beautiful baby into this world. Bella
holding his hand and kissing him and that one time he got to second base and
hated himself. Bella shining on their wedding day, Bella laughing at his stupid
faces. Bella screaming his name and whispering his name and sighing his name.
Bella, always. Nothing else was worth watching. Tiny toes and beautiful fingers
and brown eyes you'd just fall in, if you got close enough. He tasted Mr. Bubbles
and sweet soft skin made of peaches.

Edward smelled strawberries.

They were a love story.