Disclaimer: Nothing Twilight belongs to me.

5

"Do you really have to go?" Edward knows the answer but insists on asking again, just so I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He jokingly threatens to take it up with Rob, my boss and his childhood friend. I use my mortgage as an excuse, a little more edge to my voice than intended. I know I'm being unfair; Edward may come from money, but he's never flaunted it.

"Move in with me and rent out this place." He shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie, settling on the edge of my bed. "I've barely seen you these past two weeks." I lean against the door frame, watching as he unbuttons his top two shirt buttons. He's in a touchy-feely mood tonight, but I'm cold as a jellyfish. I've been a horrible girlfriend, I can't even remember when we last slept together.

"Sorry." I shut my eyes and hang my head. "I ... not tonight. I'm sorry." He gets up and paces around the room, shooting me questions I can't answer, getting increasingly frustrated with my reticence. "I don't know what's wrong, Bella." He throws up his hands in exasperation and exhales. "Call me when you want to tell me." He picks up his jacket and tie and stops in the doorway, leaning in for a goodbye kiss. "I love you." There's pain in his eyes when I don't say it back to him. But it's not like he doesn't know how I feel about those three words—what do they even mean?

Over the past two days I've thought about a lot of things. But the most important thing I've realised is this: I'll never stop running if I don't make peace with you. So I'm flying out a day early tomorrow with a mission. I'm going to apologise, and I hope you'll find it in you to forgive me. And maybe, after that, we'll talk about the house.

But my courage abandons me as I sit in the airport lounge, staring at your number which I've punched in my phone. My coffee's cold and the Last Call sign for my flight flashes, but I'm still typing and re-typing my message to you. In the end I keep it simple: Got your note. Landing in SEA at 1530.

It's raining again when we touch down, but you still haven't replied. My spirits deflate as I collect my suitcase at the carousel and trudge towards the exit. It's a lonely walk from here to the taxi stand, especially when the doors slide open, revealing a sea of expectant faces, none of whom are waiting for me. The ride to the W is dreary and grey, and I wonder what the next six months will be like, visiting this city every fortnight knowing you are here. In a moment of recklessness, I toy with driving up to La Push if you don't call me by dinner time.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice the vermilion sports coupe that eases behind us as we pull into the hotel's driveway. The bellboy ignores me while I struggle with my luggage, heading straight for the driver in the fancy car.

"Let me get that." I whirl around in shock because that voice is all too familiar and shouldn't be here.

"Jake." I'm a little unsteady on my feet, your hand on my elbow the only thing holding me to the ground. You're in a full suit, made of a refined wool that highlights your broad chest and confident bearing. I catch a whiff of your masculine cologne and minty aftershave. It's a Sunday, but it seems you just came from a power lunch or some high society event.

"You're not the only one who can pull surprises." A wry smile tugs at the edge of your lips. You pick up my suitcase, pressing the small of my back in the direction of the entrance. The bellboy steps aside as you dismiss him with a shake of your head. I must be blind, I've never noticed the presence you command. It's like you have an aura; with you at my side, even the receptionist gives me special attention.

"I'm so sorry, Mr and Mrs Swan." She addresses us jointly but her eyes are on you. "There's a conference today and we only have doubles left." You place your arm on the counter and lean in towards her, arching an eyebrow. But before you can say a word, she continues, "However, I've managed to give you both a complimentary upgrade to our Wow suite, thanks to Mrs Swan's Platinum status." Her eyelashes flutter as she hands you the card keys. There's a smirk on your face as we enter the lift. Have you always had this effect on others?

The air falls silent as we step into the plush, carpeted hallway, amplifying every sound between us. Your breathing is deep and steady as you hand me the room card and a click welcomes us into my lodgings for the rest of the week.

"You're incredible," I can't help remarking after we enter the room. It's cavernous, with an electric blue three-seater in the lounge flanked by two retro armchairs, a separate bathroom, and even a powder room near the entrance. "All my stays at the W and this is the first time they've given me a suite."

"Nah, it's just my natural charm. You know, that thing that seems to work on every woman but you." My cheeks flush at your comment, I'm relieved my back is turned to you. You set my suitcase on the luggage rack, and we turn at the same time. We're so close in the narrow entree way that I can tell the spots on your tie are actually gazelles and you nicked your jaw while shaving this morning.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" There's a hint of temptation in your voice, but with all the space in this massive living room I reckon it should be safe. I nod, and you slip past me, making yourself at home on the sofa. Letting out a loud yawn, you remove your shoes and stretch like a cat on the orange polka-dotted ottoman. "What are your plans today?" Your body expresses ease and comfort, but the glance you throw in my direction is hesitant.

"Um. I didn't really schedule anything." Your eyes follow me as I hang up my work suits, and it makes me a little nervous. I stop unpacking, leaning against the closet door and watching you observe me. It's been a long time since we've had a normal conversation, and every glance in this enclosed space feels both intimate and awkward at the same time. It surprises me how I still understand all your little gestures and hand movements, and it's odd knowing that you probably read my body language just as well.

"I'm touched. You actually saved the whole day for me?" I blush for the second time in less than maybe five minutes, avoiding your eyes.

"Well, let's get going then." Your eyes return to the large, avant garde painting of Pacific salmon in the centre of the room behind the television. The way they're depicted, it's either artistic genius or phallic, depending on how you look at it. "I don't know how long you're staying, but I need to get back to La Push tonight. We have a delivery this week."

Great, I think. That leaves me with maybe two more hours to achieve my mission. You turn on the television, loosening your tie and removing it as you flip through channels, finally settling on the Mariners' game. You don't tell me where we're going, but ask me to change into something comfortable, so I pick out a pair of sweatpants and a fleece top and head for the shower. Ten minutes later I'm cursing in the bathroom: the front clasp of my bra is loose and won't close properly. I'm torn between dashing out in my robe to pick out a new one, which strikes me as flirting with danger, and going out bra-less, since my shirt and fleece should hide any impropriety. Since you're leaving tonight anyway, I decide on the latter. I pin my hair in a loose updo and step outside, only to find you dozing off on the couch, your jacket and tie in a crumpled heap. You look several years younger, your face serene and peaceful. A strange calm washes over me as I relax into one of the armchairs, watching you sleep while the commentator in the background drones on about Ichiro. For a fleeting moment, it feels like we're teenagers again.

"Are you peeping at me?" One of your eyelids flits open and I start.

"I can feel you in my sleep, Bella." You let out another yawn and roll upright. How do you juggle business in one city and family back home? It seems tiring. "Ready?" You eye me as you get to your feet. I ask where we're going, but you just smile and usher me out of the door.

We're cruising north on Highway 99, the setting sun spinning a vivid canvas of orange and purple against the retreating snowline of the Olympic mountains. I've forgotten how beautiful this city is, and it makes me sigh. After about twenty minutes you turn off the highway and we enter an unpopulated, wooded area that looks like a park. As you shift gears I realise we're moving downslope, towards the water. I can smell the ocean before we even see it, and as we round the bend the shoreline emerges, a few squat buildings at the water's edge. You ease to a stop outside a one-storey brick structure.

"Your office?" I ask as you unlock the doors and we step outside.

"Nah. That's downtown. This is my workshop. We test stuff here sometimes, the water's calmer than First Beach." You guide me up a flight of stairs at the side of the building, and we emerge onto the roof deck with the Sound at our feet. "I come up here often on the weekend, it's nice and quiet." We settle into cushioned deck chairs, and for the next few minutes say nothing, listening to each other breathing as the sinking sun irradiates the sky. I can see why you like it here—the panorama is stunning, and with the wind whistling in the woods behind us, it almost feels like home.

Maybe, just maybe, forgiveness comes more easily here. But I'm afraid to disrupt the poignant silence that has settled in the space between our chairs.

"She killed herself on a night like this." Your solemn voice cuts through the dusk.

"What?"

"Nessie's mom." You pause and glance at my reaction. "Sue Clearwater started a shelter a few years back, for abused women. I volunteer there when I can, mostly helping out with the kids.

"Her name's Christina. She was in a dark place when we first met five years back. Two hurt and angry souls. Guess that's why we connected, morbid as that sounds." I wonder if I'm supposed to read between the lines and infer something about your relationship. There's a faraway look in your eyes as you gaze at the horizon which has turned grey, the sun in its last burst of brilliance.

"One evening, she went for a walk on First Beach and never came back. She drowned herself."

A gasp escapes me. Your voice is dry of emotion. If I didn't know you better it would be hard to tell you cared. "Chris didn't have any next-of-kin, and we couldn't trace Nessie's dad. Heard he was a drunk bastard anyway. So Billy and I took her in, and I adopted her formally last year."

The sky's darkened rapidly in minutes, and a gust of cold air forces an involuntary shiver. My breath catches as you lean in all of a sudden and reach towards my chest. Your fingers grasp the zipper of my fleece, pulling it up to my chin, lingering for a moment before you retreat to your chair. I can almost hear my heart thudding; thankfully the darkness conceals my flushed face.

"I guess you're wondering if we were together. We dated a little, but I think I was more like her crutch. Never enough though. I took it hard when she killed herself. I mean, why do the people around me keep dying?" There's an almost undetectable tremble in your voice, and the cruel truth of your words hits me hard. You're right: tragedy's affected your life as much as it's impacted mine. And yet, you've moved on, unlike me. In fact, it seems you couldn't be doing better.

"I was lost for a while after that, but Nessie was my saviour." A streetlight flickers in the distance, your eyes shining as you speak of this little girl. "She's just so full of life, she makes me want to be a better person." You turn towards me, leaning on the arm of your seat. "And it's because of her I realised something."

With fiery eyes you reach out for my hand, clasping it in yours. "The dead never really go away, Bells. My mom, Harry, Charlie, and Chris. They're right here." You pull my hand towards your chest, the steady thump-thump of your heartbeat vibrating against my palm. "And here." Lifting my hand, you rest it against my chest, your fingers still interlaced with mine.

"They live on, inside us. And more than anything else, they want you to be happy." I close my eyes, the sound of our heartbeats and the mellow baritone of your voice swirling around me like sweet cotton candy. I don't want this moment to end.

My stomach chooses that very moment to let out an inappropriate growl. I realise I haven't eaten all day besides the crummy sandwich and chips they served on the plane.

"Sorry." You let go of my hand and your face breaks out in a sheepish grin. "I completely forgot about dinner."

We head inside, my hand slipping almost naturally in yours as you guide me down the steps in the dark. The front room is your workshop, the floor strewn with plywood, fiberglass and all manner of tools. There's a little alcove to the left with a sofa bed that looks well-used, the floor littered with beer cans. You point out the restroom to our right before pushing past a door in the back. It leads to the kitchenette which barely fits a basic stove, microwave and fridge. Apologizing for the lack of food options, you offer me pasta or frozen pizza. It's getting late and you still have a long drive back, so I choose the latter. There's no dining table, so we head back out to the workshop, balancing our dinner on paper plates. Tossing the pillows on the backrest, you fold the mattress and we settle into the couch. I can't help but think back to Billy's garage in La Push. Even though this place smells of grease and sawdust, and the pizza's a little soggy, it's the best meal I've had in a long time.

I still haven't accomplished my mission and resolve to make progress after we clean up, leading you back to the sofa, which is about the only place to sit or lie down. You lean back on one armrest, appraising me as I shift on the soft springs, trying to get comfortable. I clear my throat and summon all the courage in my bones.

But the first thing that slips out of my mouth is this: "Why did you buy the house?" It comes out almost like an accusation, and I regret my words instantly.

"Why's that so hard to believe?" Your lips curl up on one side. "I spent just as much time there as you did."

"But you put my name on it."

"That's because I want you to have it. You didn't deserve to lose your home like that."

"But Jake," I protest. "How could you spend all that money on me?"

"I dunno. What else am I supposed to do with it?" Your flippancy with your finances startles me. I know your business is doing well, but I didn't realise how well. "I have more than I'll ever need. Besides, I realised long ago money's not going to buy me what I most want." What do you want most? I'm not sure I can handle the answer.

So I keep my tone light. "Well for one, you could plough the cash back in your company. Or buy another fancy car."

"You mean another Ferrari?" You shift closer and raise an eyebrow. "I already have one. Besides, I'm a one man one woman type of guy." There's a slight hint of something in your last statement, and it sets me on edge.

"But …" The words spill out of me. "Jake, I don't deserve this. I've been awful to you, I've ignored you for years and you have every reason to hate me. I know I've been a horrible friend and I'm so sorry …"

"For what?" Your voice is tender and somehow it calms my nerves.

"Because I keep abusing you, treating you horribly, and you've been nothing but … "

You silence me with a kiss. It's brief, but the familiarity of your lips sends my head spinning. I open my mouth to speak but you hush me, slipping your arms around my waist as you lean in and nestle your head in the crook of my neck. Almost by instinct, my fingers find their way into your hair, massaging your scalp as we hold each other. Neither of us speak, and I'm starting to realise that maybe we don't always need words; I still understand your silences, and I hope mine make sense to you too.

"We should get going," I mumble, not really sure how many minutes have passed. "You have a long drive ahead." You grunt in response, but pull me tighter against you.

"Stay with me tonight." I can't help it but my mind starts wandering into forbidden territory. You're still in your trousers and work shirt, and even though the sleeves are rolled-up it can't be too comfortable. I pray you brought a change of clothes.

"What about your work." I try to rein in my thoughts.

"Fuck work."

"You mean here?"

"I have some clean sheets in the back." You look up at me with hopeful eyes. When I raise a quizzical brow, you climb out of the sofa and walk over to the window opposite, pushing it open by a hair's breath. A draft wafts into the room, tinged with the smell of the ocean. "I'll keep you warm."

I wonder what it would be like to watch the sunrise in your arms.

You beam when I nod. Somehow, I like your idea very much, even though your creaky sofa has nothing on the plush four poster bed at the W. You disappear into the washroom while I make our bed, tucking in the sheets and arranging the pillows. I'm trying to get comfortable when the light turns off and we're coated in darkness. My heartbeat speeds up as your feet shuffle closer. Lifting the quilt, your warmth cocoons me from behind, one arm curling around my waist. I wait for a hint of awkwardness or discomfort, but it's shocking how completely natural this feels.

And that's when it hits me that you're almost stark naked.

"Jake!" I'm astonished, excited, and embarrassed.

"Don't think you want me to sleep in my greasy overalls." You whisper in my ear. "I'd get dust and muck all over you." Your voice is low and seductive and it stirs something foreign and long buried. "So, about your apology just now. I wanted to ask … " Resting your weight on your elbow, you turn me gently so that we're face-to-face. You could ask anything of me now and I would give it to you.

"If I forgive you. What do I get?"

My eyes have adjusted to the dark somewhat, but I don't need light to feel the want in your voice. My mind battles over whether this is right or wrong, but my body moves entirely on its own. As if under a spell, my index finger rises to your shoulder, resting on your sternum for a second and eliciting a throaty growl as it travels southward. Reaching your abs, the rest of my fingers uncurl and trace the muscles I'm surprised to find still there.

"Bells." Your voice turns hoarse and you grab my hand, shoving it to the side. Your hand fists into my hair as you guide yourself onto my lips, legs interlocking as we kiss away years of desperation and longing. Your other hand rests on the waistband of my pants, but within minutes slips under my shirt, inching up my back. My forgotten bra comes to mind, but your fingers are faster and within seconds they've mounted my breast and you're groaning.

"Jake," I gasp as your lips move downward. If we don't stop … I can't really think about what will happen, in fact, I realise I can't really think at all with your ministrations on my neck and your fingers stirring all these deep, subconscious feelings. I give it one last shot. "Jake."

Your hand freezes, darting out from my shirt, a guilty look spreading on your face. "Sorry." Pulling away, you draw in a ragged breath and lie on your side. "I … I got ahead of myself."

We're both breathing heavily, and my emotions and impulses are running amok. I miss your warmth already but I'm not sure where this is leading us. For the first time tonight, Edward's pained grimace flashes across my mind. What am I doing? Is it wrong to want you like this?

"I ... I need to get some fresh air." You hug your knees and roll to a sitting position, the muscles in your back flexing as you get out of bed. Moonlight floods the room as the door opens and you slip outside. When you don't come back after a few minutes, I clamber to my feet, putting on my fleece jacket and stepping onto the veranda. Not finding you there, I edge up the stairs onto the roof. You're in the same chair, your back to me as I approach.

"Hey." I slip an arm around your shoulder and hug you from behind. Your hand reaches for me as I round your chair, guiding me to your lap. We don't speak as you wrap your arms around my waist and fold my legs over yours.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" you mumble into my ear, your stubble brushing against my jaw. "It's cold out here." But it's warmer like this, tucked in your embrace.

I'm gazing at the water and the way the moonlight ripples off the surface, my fingers mirroring its concentric patterns on your arm, when you speak again. "You're all I ever wanted, you know?" It comes out more like a statement than a question.

I want to tell you how much I've missed you over the years, and how I've thought of you constantly, but I realise it's not necessary. I've beaten myself up over nothing all this while. Your love is as true and unwavering as it was when we were seventeen, and the only person stopping me from accepting it has been myself. I don't know how to put all this in words, so instead I turn my head to the side and place a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you." Your words come without hesitation and it makes my heart swell.

And for the first time, I say it back.

-~The End~-

A/N Yes, that's the end of the story. Thank you for reading. I put my heart into writing this; if you like it please review!

I borrowed the line about Jacob's 'natural charm' from a beautiful Hunger Games fanfic called a perfect sonnet by xoVanilla-Bean. If you're a Gale fan like me, it's a must-read!

Thanks to Leelator and Micah's Moonbeam for your thoughts and comments on earlier drafts of this story.

Anyone want an epilogue? A ... lemon ... maybe? Tell me, or it'll never happen!