Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

"Burn it down 'til the embers smoke on the ground. And start new when your heart is an empty room." – DCFC

EPOV

"Bella," I mutter lethargically, "Bella. Isabella, come out." My cheek presses against the cool, polished oak. Shuffling arises from the other side of the door, yet despite my hopes, silence follows. I groan. The clunk of an object unnamed rings through my ears, the small vibrations vanishing. A clock ticks somewhere nearby. A constant, unchanging ticking. Time, a constant, does not slow. It does not reverse, and as much I'd pay for it to, it is the component which keeps Bella on the other side of the door rather than in bed, as we were, several hours ago.

"Bella," I plead once more. Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the door. I feel her presence on the other side. Possibly asleep, possibly not. Yet I'm compelled to stay here, obligated, even. "Come out."

"No," she squeaks faintly. Her soft voice rings clearly as it permeates the mahogany and I'm quick to my feet.

"Oh! So you're alive. Great, that's great. Now just open up the door, babe. I'm not a serial killer. Come out. This isn't The Shining," I sigh and my eyes slink shut.

"No," she hiccups in a pealing fashion and I jiggle the doorknob fervently.

"Please, Bella. Bel- Isabella. Really. I understand you're upset but let's be rational here. It's very late. You're exhausted, you're upset, you're hormonal. I respect that, but you're pregnant. You really can't be locking yourself in bathrooms in the pinnacle of night, crying your eyes out and blocking off your poor fiancé. Think about this. You have work in the morning and we both know that you're quite the charmer during the AM hours. I'm begging you, for the sake of your health, come out."

A vacuous silence begins to eat away at my pores. The shroud of helplessness settles, wrapping around me a tad too tight. Shit, this is serious. I slump against the door, defeated, slinking down toward the ground. My arm chafes against the mahogany, igniting a dull pain in the reconstructed matter and I wince. She exudes no response, even as I curl against the door. Sam patters over to me at this moment and stares at me with his coal eyes. He whines once, long and high, before slumping down at my feet. His wet tongue laps at the niches of my toes and I sigh.

"Bel-"

"Why do you care about me so much?" she squeaks in a strange tone.

"What?" I question unfathomably. "What kind of question is that?"

"Why? Why do you have to care so much, Edward?" she demands. "Why can't you just leave me here and go to sleep? Why do you have to be so good to me?" Her voice cracks and I hear evidence of her delicate nose burying itself into a wad of tissue.

"What are you talking about?" I question incredulously. "Why would I just leave you here? It is my duty to accompany you through your hormonal episodes. Isn't this expected?"

"I… just. Edward, I just need you to leave me alone. Please, go to bed," she sniffles and the silence resettles.

"I don't… understand why, Bella. Is it something I did?" I furrow my brow and quickly recount my actions and their consequences over the span of the last several days. What did I do? Or am constituted as a default apex of douchebaggery; that all of my actions deem myself a complete and irreversible asshole? I glance quizzically at Sam. He whines once before nestling his head onto the floor.

"No! You didn't do anything. I just want some time by myself," she mumbles through the door crack. I sigh heavily. A fraction of myself nearly rises and flings myself into bed. Yet I reassess my actions. Alice, once upon a time, translated her exquisite skill of lock picking over to me. I, once upon a time, was nearly as good as she. I, currently, am desperate. In a swift movement, I rise and stumble my way through the foyer. I squint fervently and push aside the darkness. With a flick of the kitchen switch, light pours into the room, highlighting my wallet. I snatch it from the counter and rifle through its contents. Visa? No… American Express… Oh, why not. I pluck the silver card from its slot and lethargically stumble my way back to Bella's newfound cavern.

"I tried to be nice with you, babe," I sigh and slide the card into the door crack. She muffles in protest as I fiddle with the door lock, and after a moment, I hear the victorious 'click' press against my ear. My fingers slowly wrap around the doorknob and attempt to grasp what I believe is a tangible problem. The door swings open to reveal a disheveled Bella. She glances up at me with swollen eyes.

She curls into herself on the tiled floor, donning an oversized blue bathrobe. Crumpled tissues surround her in circuitous fashion; a pagan ritual of her unexplainable self-loathing. Her beautiful eyes are rimmed red, puffed out and evasive of my stare. Locks of hair stick to her wet cheeks and I sigh.

"Bella," I exhale. She sniffles once, gluing her eyes to the rug. "Come here." I kneel down next to her and gently peel the hair from her crimson cheeks. She flinches.

"You're going to hate me," she squeaks and hiccups. Her lip trembles as she meets my stare and I shake my head fervently.

"Not at all. Now, let's be rational. It's late. Look at you, you miserable woman. I know you want to sleep. Do you want a cuddle?" I plaster on a strained grin. "I know you-"

"Stop, Edward," she snaps and I reel backward. "Why do you have to be so charming? Why do you care so much? I just want to be alone." Her puffy eyes close and her feathery, thick lashes brush against her tears. I stare at her, rammed. The silence, of course, resettles.

"Look," I begin cautiously, "I'm trying here. I… realize now that you're veritably upset. I want…" I pause, "I want to respect your wishes. I think I'm going to take a walk. You're… welcome to the bed." My voice grows fainter and I slowly rise. She stares up at me, hauntingly, and numbly nods. An uneasy series of stomach flips becomes dizzying and finally, she rises to her feet. At a loss for words, all I can do is slide past her into the darkened corridor.

"It's nothing you did," she says quietly and slinks toward our bedroom. I follow her wordlessly and as she curls up into bed, I snatch my overcoat from the room's beige tapered chair. Fuck, it's going to be cold. I shrug the coat on and grab my slacks that I had worn that previous day. My right leg plunges through the pants the moment Bella speaks.

"I love you," she mumbles, "but I need some time alone." I meet her gaze heavily and nod, once. I buckle my belt quickly and evade her bundled up beneath the blankets.

"Whatever you say," I say flatly and stride away from the woman I love. This time, just as many others, I am leaving her. Yet this time, she is the one truly leaving me.

…..

Seattle nightlife buzzes fervently around me. The low humming of lit advertisements unites deafeningly and I shiver. My fingers fumble with the car heat; my bones ache for the blast of heat. Bursts of warm air waft from the niches of my car, causing Sam to whine contentedly. I crawl up the icy road, passing by lit clubs and darkened stores. Only certain people litter the frozen blocks of Seattle at two in the morning; they mostly stumble their way into cabs as the rest of the world sleeps. I sigh. I witness a girl sloppily meander her way from a bar, grin plastered on and makeup smudged. Her hair is frazzled, her eyes glazed as she catches my eye. Her eyes expand exponentially and she giggles once. Hi, she mouths, waggling her fingers. I shift in my seat before nudging my toe against the accelerator.

I crawl up another block, inching my way through the snow-laden roads. My fingers tremble against the steering wheel and I realize the insomnia pulsating through my veins. Sam whines loudly, long and slow.

"Oh," I sigh, "what are we going to do, Sam?" He gazes up at me with black eyes and blinks. I purse my lips, awaiting a noise. He ducks his head lithely, avoiding my gaze, and buries himself into the fur on his belly. You're alone on this one, Edward. I tap the accelerator.

The blurring frames of street life continue. Blaring cab horns, booming music and drunken laughter litter the sidewalks. I whimsically slow against a curb and park next to a fare meter. Sam glances at me with questioning eyes and I can't help but shrug. His leash, my gloves and game face are on. When I exit the Volvo, my bones shatter. Puffs of breath linger around my head and I struggle to fish quarters from my pocket.

"Hey! Hey, you!" a slurred voice wafts over. I snap my head up. A petite girl points to me and flashes a wide smile. I blink.

"Yes?" I mutter.

"Whatcha doing?" she giggles, flailing her purse.

"Paying for my parking spot," I sigh. My fingers fumble the quarters into the slot and her vibrant canary coat flashes in my peripheral.

"That's cool. But hey, it's fuckin' cold out. Why you parking now?" she hiccups and covers her mouth.

"It is cold," I comment, "But my dog needed a walk." She glances at Sam and begins her giggling again.

"Can I pet him?" she drinks in my wretched, disheveled appearance.

"You're not even looking at him," I tug his leash and begin making footprints in the snow. Biting wind nips at my face and rifles through my hair, leaving behind ice and fatigue.

"So?" she laughs, yet her laughter is fading as I stride my way down the end of the block. Blaring music emits from the corner and after some consideration, I decide I need a drink.

"Why you looking so down?" the bartender nods at me. I slide onto a stool and rub my temples. "And hey, we don't allow dogs in here."

"He's a service dog," I mutter.

"Oh. You blind?" he grunts and retrieves a glass. I stare at him.

"Are you serious?" I sigh, "Look, can you just pour me a Scotch? On the rocks. Actually, pour a double." I wipe my eyes.

"You got it, buddy." The clinking of the ice cubes perks Sam's ears and a swirl of amber liquid swishes the glass.

"Thanks," I murmur. I grip the glass, swig it and grit my teeth.

"Your wife kick you out or something?" the bartender says gruffly, tilting his head.

"Close," I set the glass down with a pound, "You've almost got it."

"Divorce?"

I glance up at him briefly, nudging the glass with the tip of my finger.

"We're not even married yet," I groan and the amber swirls before my eyes.

"Well," the bartender snaps his bottle up, "This gonna make you stronger, ain't it? A handsome fellow like you knocking back this shit is sure to do some damage." He yawns then and places the glass bottle before my nose.

"Damage to what?" I bury my nose into my drink and pound it down. My eyes swell up, glazed by the sting of the potency. It rakes down my throat, raging, and finally settles into the pit of my stomach with a low burn. A soft buzz extrapolates to the lengths of my fingers and the tips of my toes and I clink the glass down.

"Anyone. Your girl, any girl. Just pick a girl," he chuckles heartedly.

"I would never," I grunt, "pick up another woman." He pours another drink and I raise my glass to him.

"Why not? She's not your ball and chain, yet. Obviously you're whipped, but she kicked you out, didn't she? Go wreak some havoc, buddy." He laughs to himself. I place my lips on the rim of the glass, tasting the burning liquid and my loss of pride.

"That's not me," I blink, "I love her." Only the music is heard, melancholy, wafting. I clink my glass, shifting it from hand to hand. I scan each bottle in the racks behind the bartender, slowly, desperately. Sam whines. "Get me another drink," I shut my eyes.

Time passes. People swing in, people stumble out. The Scotch numbs my body against the nipping cold air, as well as my own thoughts. Music wafts carelessly through the bar, twirling in and out of people's hair and poisons. I find myself humming to a tune, my eyes glazed and my body swollen with the amber substance.

"You're drunk," the bartender notes his watch.

"So?" I grin stupidly. "Isn't that was bars are for?" I sway on the stool, balancing myself with my two hands on the bar surface.

"It's late. Don't you got a ride home? You can't drive right now, kid," he brandishes a towel cloth and begins to wipe down the bar surface.

"What's your name, good sir?" I jab my finger at him and he chuckles lightly.

"Mickey," he snags the bottle of Scotch, "what about you?"

"Edward," I close my eyes. "It was very nice meeting you." I jut my hand into open air and he receives my gesture.

"Yeah. Hey, Eddy, come on now. How you gonna get home?" he retrieves my empty glass in front of me. I stare at the mahogany of the bar surface, squinting my eyes. Focusing…

"I don't even have a home to go to," I lower my eyes.

He tuts, "someone in the city you know? It's a big town." I ponder this for a moment, deciding who will drag my inebriated ass in.

"My… my sister," I blink, "Yes, Alice." I hop off the stool and clutch the bar edge, balancing myself.

"Easy there, soldier," Mickey blinks. He turns around and begins the process of shutting down his bar. I laugh heartedly and begin to fish my phone from my pocket. Seeing double, I realize that I'm screwed.

"Uh… Mickey?" I hiccup. He turns to me, eyebrow raised.

"I can't really… Uh, figure out how to work a BlackBerry right now," I laugh. He stares at me dubiously before grinning himself.

"And you think I know how to work one sober? Come on, you're rich. You should know. What are you, a doctor or something?"

"No," I shake my head. The room spins fervently and I blink myself into stability. "A lawyer."

He laughs, "Lawyers are one of a kind. Say, Eddy… Edward. Aren't you that lawyer…? In the summer, when you represented that kid? Am I right?" I stop punching random patterns of keys into my phone and glance up at him.

I nod slowly, numbly. He slaps his belly.

"I knew it! I knew you from somewhere," he grins. The room begins to spin faster. "Hey, what ever happened to that girl? Your client?" he tilts his head.

I smell burning metal, the crack of smashing glass. Sweet, saccharine blood pools my nose. Flashes of darkness, of hellish screams blip my vision. A surgery, Bella's angelic visage hovering over me. The sickly smell of a yellow death, of a mourning family. Stale white walls in an orphanage, a pretty girl with ragged, red scar. Scum from the past with hazel eyes and a black heart. And Bella, with her swollen eyes and belly.

I duck my head and vomit.

***

"Jasper, can you go make the guest bed?" a pealing voice pierces my ears. Two miniature hands steady my waist and bustle me forward.

"Alice?" I slur.

"Edward," she sighs, "what has gotten into you?" she sets me down on a sofa and flicks the lights on. The light sears my eyes and I immediately curl away into darkness.

"Nothing," I muffle, "I'm fine."

"You reek, Edward," she sighs.

"This isn't my fault," I slink my eyes shut. The world stops spinning and I dig my fingers into a throw pillow.

"Oh, really? Someone force-fed you alcohol?" she scowls and I moan.

"Leave me alone, pixie. Let me sleep," I grip the pillow tighter, hunching my shoulders.

"No, I want to talk to you first. You got a free pass in high school when I had to clean your drunk ass up just about every Saturday night. But you're a grown man now. With a fiancée! What on Earth are you doing? Edward Anthony, do not tell me you have cold feet, you piece of –"

"Alice," I groan, "I don't have cold feet."

"You can't be gallivanting around at 4 in the morning, drunk as hell in 10 degree weather! Tell me, what are you doing?" she seethes.

"She kicked me out for the night," I peek an eye out at my sister. "I don't know why."

"Bella?" she asks incredulously, "Bella Swan kicked you out?" A thick air settles around us and I can hear Alice's brain ticking fervently.

"That she did," I sprawl my length out and bury my face.

"Did you get into a fight?" Alice asks softly. Her tiny hands are on my back now, soothing me.

"No," I mutter. Some more silence as Alice ponders and suddenly, Jasper appears.

"Is he conscious?" his Southern drawl harmonizes with Alice's tinkling voice.

"Yes," she sighs, "Bella kicked him out." Her voice is hushed and there is an agonizing pause.

"I should probably check on Annabel," he murmurs. "Feel better, Edward." The pattering of his footsteps fades. Alice's hands are tugging at me now, pulling me upright.

"Let's at least get you into your room," she mutters.

In the guest room, I don a set of Jasper's sleep attire. Alice is at the edge of my bed, knees curled to her chest. A ticking clock on the nightstand preaches time and I want to sleep.

"Is she pregnant?" Alice breaks my quasi sleep and snaps me back to lucidity. I blink, registering the question. Oh, shit. This isn't how Bella would want Alice to find out… Yet Alice is omniscient. I choose silence. "I knew it," she bounds to her feet, "I knew it."

I purse my lips, "how did you know?"

"I know everything. You should know that by now, Edward," she paces the room and I shield my eyes. "So then, I really wouldn't worry," she sighs.

"Why not?" I mutter.

"Pregnant women are crazy! They're off their rockers, sailing on the S.S. Instability in the Sea of Hormones for nine months! She's probably feeling very emotional at the moment," she rubs her temples and I shake my head.

"That may be, Alice. But she received a phone call earlier and went ballistic. She snapped her phone and locked herself into a closet for hours upon end. Oh, and second she comes out, she wants to be alone," I sigh.

"Do you know who called?" Alice asks quizzically.

"No," I shake my head, "And I cannot imagine what they said to her. It's not like I'm cheating on her, Alice. I have done nothing."

"Maybe it's not you," she says softly, "maybe it's someone else."

BPOV

What have I done? I shift around on my sopping pillow and glance at the nightstand clock. 4:16 AM. I force myself upright and peel sticking strands of hair from my cheeks. The bedroom is lonely and as I glance back at our bed, only one side is disheveled and soaked with tears. Where could he be? My eyes well up as I stare outside; the howling wind, the raking branches, the flurry of ivory snow.

I walk into the kitchen and flick on the lights. It appears normal, untouched by the transpiring events. Until I see my phone. The flip cover has snapped off the keyboard and the screen, smashed, snakes a spidery web of broken plastic. I dial him from the home phone.

Hello. You've reached the phone of Edward Cullen. Please leave your name, number and message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

I hit the end button with trembling fingers. The apartment, eerie without the humming of Edward or the pattering of Sam, taunts me. The floorboards creak in laughter, the dripping sink giggles in a cadence. I rush into the bedroom. I glance at the disheveled bed, the crumpled tissues. And finally, I glance at my coat.

***

I shiver severely against the zero wind chill of the city. This was stupid. This was a whim. This was my fault. No, this was Henry's. I grind my teeth as his smoothed face breaks into my head. I feel a flutter in my stomach and my eyes begin to well once more.

The wind whips my coat. My fingers crack and I struggle to blink. The darkness of the sky envelops me, suffocating me. It leads me to a bench, covered by a bus stop roof. I trip into the frosty bench, gripping the rail and settling myself. What am I doing? I slowly lay myself down, trembling against the cold. I wonder where he's lying down. Comfortable or in the hands of Seattle's cold. My condensed breath pools around my face as I set my head down. And I close my eyes, punishing myself.

"How could you do such a thing, Bella? Think about what you're doing," Henry growls. He grabs my hand, pleading.

"Henry, I would," tears flow down my cheeks in cascades. "I would, but I can't. You know I can't." He drops my fingers, staring at me with coal eyes.

"Why not? I could support you. You know that, Bella," he slowly drops to his knees. I stare down at him, vision and hot and blurred.

"I know you can. But that's not it," I squeak, "I can't give myself to you. I want to, but I can't. I-I… I wish I could love you the same way you love me." He stares up at me harrowingly, dejection and pain swimming in his eyes. I place a hand over my stomach, rubbing up and down.

"I gave so much to you," he springs from the ground. "I picked you up, fixed you, patched all the holes and cuts. What else do you fucking want from me?" he howls and turns from me. I juxtapose my safe haven with the darkness of age eighteen. Henry loves me. Adores me. Dotes on me. Edward cut me. Sliced me. Shattered me.

I fold into myself, sobbing. I crinkle my eyes and hot tears spill from the creases. I am shameful. So fucking shameful.

"Henry," I sniffle and stare up at him. "I'm so sorry. I just can't. A-a-and… I-I hate to be that girl that scarred you. I don't want to be your nightmare or that ghost around every corner. I-I can't do that to you. But I have no choice… I love you, I just… I don't… I don't love you like I loved him, Henry. I can never be truly yours. I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am."

He stares at me with burning hate; hate derived from love. Love and hate are two parallels, yet in the end, they run in one another. I wipe the tears from my eyes and stare down at my belly. My belly…

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I can't."

My teeth chatter fervently against the biting wind. I'm going to hell. To the hottest inferno of hell. My eyes snap open. I stare down at my belly and weep, certain that my tears have frozen over.

Sorry for being such a terrible person but I'm SO busy. You know, college prep stuff. It's pretty hellish.

If you actually read this, you get a cookie and smooch from Edward for being so loyal. Love you guys!

Oh, and HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Christmas is almost here, la dee da dee daaaa :)

xx, JC44