He was just… sitting there staring at me, looking completely lost with his fork in the air. I had no idea what to think. But the look on his face of… utter confusion was alarming. Then he just cleared the distance between the fork and his mouth, and started eating the turkey slowly while still keeping eye contact with me. I furrowed my brow at him, but instead of answering the unspoken question, he all of a sudden broke my gaze and started eating quickly. Faster than I had ever seen him eat. I wanted to ask him what was going on, because his behavior was worrying me. But of course, I couldn’t do that. So I continued eating my turkey and stuffing, stealing glances at him every now and again.

He kept eating like that for twenty minutes. Just cramming food into his mouth as fast as possible, and not saying a word to anyone. No one else really seemed to notice. Of course, no one else pays attention to Edward quite as much as I do. When his plate was clean, he turned his body and let out a few coughs. Slowly, he turned around and shifted towards Dr. Cullen.

“Carlisle?” Edward called quietly, halting Dr. Cullen’s conversation with Esme. “I...I don’t mean to be rude, honestly, but I’m… really not feeling that well.” He looked pleadingly at Dr. Cullen.

“You’re cold again, Edward?” Dr. Cullen frowned. Edward nodded heavily returning his frown. “Of course, I’m sure Esme wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go home and get some rest.” Dr. Cullen then glanced sideways at Esme.

“Oh no, Dear! You go ahead and get home so you can get better.” Esme smiled warmly at Edward while Alice muttered something under her breath I couldn’t quite make out. Unable to stop myself and my protective side when it came to Edward, I lifted my foot and kicked her in the leg. She flinched a little, but didn’t say anything, instead glaring at her mashed potatoes.

Edward stood up then, and swayed a bit, grasping the back of his seat for support. It was a small sway that no one else would have ever noticed, but I knew it all too well. He was tired. Too tired.

“Thank you for the dinner Ms. Brandon. It was delicious.” He said politely, sparing a pointed sideways glance at me, forcing a tight smile, and then exiting the dining room. Now I was really worried. Edward was confused, possibly disoriented, swaying when he stood, and the most alarming change in his behavior by far, he was being polite.

I ate the rest of my dinner feeling more anxious by the minute. No one really talked to me. Alice had plenty of things to discuss with Emmet, and Esme and Carlisle were enjoying their conversation about local politicians and property laws.

I eventually served everyone desert, wishing that the clock would move faster so I could go see Edward and make sure he was okay. Emmet ate an entire pie all by himself, to which I just had to smile at him. He shrugged at me and gave me a big grin while Dr. Cullen and Esme stared open mouthed in shock at the fact he still had room for anything.

Esme sent Alice and the men into the living room to watch some sports program while we cleared the table.

“How are you doing, dear?” Esme whispered in my ear while glancing towards the living room.

I rolled my eyes at her. “I told you Esme, I’m fine stop worrying so much.” I sighed exasperated. She smiled sweetly at me while we took the dishes into the kitchen to wash.

“So, what do you think of Dr. Cullen, Bella?” She asked while I dried the dishes and she washed.

“He’s…” I paused, trying to come up with a term suitable for someone like Dr. Cullen. “He seems very compassionate and caring. I like him.” I said sincerely with a smile. She looked a little surprised that I surmised such a dramatic opinion after only spending an hour with him. But I knew more about him than she could comprehend. He gave Edward a good home. Took him away from mean people, and gave him a better life. That says a lot about a person. It was impossible for me not to like Dr. Cullen.

My approval seemed to please Esme quite a bit. I was wondering if there wasn’t more to her relationship with him than she was letting on, but I didn’t pry. It wasn’t my business. But I secretly hoped there was. They deserved each other.

Once everything from the evening was cleaned and put away, I had nothing left to keep me occupied except the anxiety over Edward’s unusual behavior. Dr. Cullen and Emmet left at six thirty, thanking me, Alice, and Esme profusely for the dinner. I lounged on the couch with Alice for a while after that. She never questioned me about what happened at the dinner table when I kicked her. I was hoping she just assumed I was doing it because she was being rude.

I started a batch of cookies to keep me busy. I made Triple Toffee Twilights. Alice’s favorite. It was a bit of an apology for the kick. When they were done, I snuck Edward’s bag in the sack I always took with me, anticipating getting to him.

At nine-o-clock, both Esme and Alice turned in just as a thunderstorm rolled in, citing drowsiness by turkey as their excuses. But I just paced around the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the microwave and willing it to move faster to midnight. The rain was pounding furiously at the roof of the house, and the thunder rattled the windows every few minutes. By ten, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to go see Edward. So I threw my hoodie on, and didn’t even bother bringing my bag or any cookies. I just walked out the door into the thunderstorm.

Drawing up my hood to shield me from the rain, I glanced over at Edward’s window and noticed the lights were off. His lights were never off at night. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. So I quickly stalked with my head down to the back wall of the house, careful not to pass any windows on the first floor in fear Dr. Cullen might still be awake. The wall was illuminated momentarily by a flash of lightning, so I found a good spot on the lattice and began climbing my way up to the balcony. Water was dripping down my face, making it difficult to see, and I had to use my hands more than my eyes, but I eventually reached the railing and slung my leg over it, nearly slipping off the wet lattice too soon, but catching myself and lowering my soaked body onto the balcony safely.

I spun around, lifting a dripping fist to knock on the dark glass French door, when I heard it. An alarm clock. I stood frozen in the rain with my fist suspended in the air. It never went off. Finally, I knocked. Louder than I usually did, hoping it would be heard over the thunder and the alarm clock inside. Edward never came.

Dozens of scenarios went through my head. Most of them ending with Edward dead somewhere in his room. So in a completely irrational panic, I threw all logic out the window, grabbed the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

The alarm clock was screeching the most offensive sound I’d ever heard. But the room was completely black. I walked in, cringing at each electronic screech and dripping all over the gold carpet, and closed the door behind me. I squinted into the room but couldn’t make anything out.

“Edward?” I choked out, my voice cracking with anxiety. I stood waiting for a few moments, but I got no answer. I was debating if I should go into the room further.

Then I heard a sob coming from the direction of Edward’s bed. It was a deep, agonized sob. I had two conflicting emotions at hearing it. The first was relief that Edward was alive. The second was fear that something was wrong. Making up my mind, I slowly and carefully felt my way to his bedside table where both a lamp was, and the source of the awful screeching sound, thankful he had cleaned his room and I wasn’t going to trip over anything. When I finally reached the vicinity, I had the help of both the glow from the clock and a random flash of lighting to help me spot the lamp. I felt my way up the shade to the switch, and turned it on.

I gasped when I spotted Edward on the bed. He was sleeping. If you could even call it that. One of his hands was fisted into his messy hair, and he had tears streaming down his cheeks, lying on his side above the covers still clothed, facing me. But none of that was the worst part. His face was twisted in agony and his body was trembling and shuddering. He was dreaming.

He let out another choked sob, and I could feel my eyes starting to water. I couldn’t bear seeing him like this. It was the second most heartbreaking sight I’ve ever witnessed; second only to finding my mother’s body.

“Edward.” I called him again, louder. But he didn’t wake up. It was almost as if whatever dream he was in had him trapped. “Edward, wake up!” I cried again. But I still got no response. I balled my fists up at my sides while my tears spilled over.

His pain was my pain. “Edward, please!” I begged through a sob that was tearing through my chest. But I still got no response from him. He was still crying and shuddering, and he was gripping his hair so tightly his knuckles were white. My hands involuntary shot up to my own hair and grabbed two fistfuls while I let out a loud, frustrated growl. “Goddamnit, Edward! Wake the fuck up!” I pleaded again through my own sobs. But I still couldn’t reach him where he was. Frustrated, I let my hair go and brought my hands down to the alarm clock and fumbled to turn the screeching off.

Once the room was silent again, with only the sound of the rain coming down outside and my quiet sobs, I realized I was going to have to touch him. Shake him. Slap him. Anything to get him out of that dream.

I heaved out a deep breath to relax my nerves, which was nearly impossible when Edward was crying like that. Slowly, I walked closer to the bed, wringing my hands nervously. He wasn’t within arms reach, his bed was too big. So I lifted a knee to the mattress, and then the other, and crawled over to his shaking body. The reality of what touching him could possibly do to me just made my cry harder. But I had to stop his pain.

I lifted a shaking hand tentatively to the fist he had grasping his hair, and tested myself with a small poke to his white knuckle. I got a small shock when I touched him, like a spark. It made me snap my hand back. But I was okay. No flashes. So I pushed myself further, and slowly eased my palm on top of his entire fist. I could still feel a strange electricity. It was different from any other touch. But in a good way. I worked to pry his long pale fingers from his hair with that hand. He had a good grip on it, but I eventually got all of them loose and lowered his hand to the bed, somewhat in awe of my ability to accomplish this sanely. Feeling a little more confident, and afraid I might lose whatever was making this possible, I indulged myself in something I had been dying to do for days now. I smoothed that lock of hair away from his face. And I didn’t lift my hand away. I caressed his soft, messy hair gingerly. And to my surprise, he relaxed marginally. So I kept doing that. Caressing his hair with my hand, and he relaxed further with every stroke.

I was ecstatic. I was touching him. He was liking it. Drunk on the excitement and confidence these revelations gave me, I eased myself down beside him on my side, laying my cheek on the hand that hadn’t touched him yet, gazing at his face, and kept stroking his hair with my fingers. It was soothing him, but not completely. That’s when Edward’s words came to me. That first night, out in the gazebo, he told me his mother used to hum to him every night, and he couldn’t sleep without it. All the Pretty Little Horses.

So I started humming the song quietly, still stroking his hair. Edward let out a deep breath and stilled. That was it. That was what Edward needed. I kept humming and stroking his hair, and eventually all his tears dried up, and his face relaxed completely. He was breathing deep and steady. He looked peaceful. I’m sure I had a goofy smile on my face, feeling his silky hair beneath my fingertips and humming that little song I learned in fourth grade music class.

Suddenly, without warning, the hand I pried from his hair lifted up and he put his arm around my waist. I froze.

But I got no flashes. No hyperventilating, no crying, no shaking. Just Edward with his arm around my waist and that odd electricity he gave off. So I resumed humming, stroking his hair, and bravely, scooted closer to him until I was close enough to feel his breath on my face. I smiled wider. I hadn’t been this close to anyone in so long, and never anywhere near this close to Edward. He tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me to him. I didn’t freeze up this time. Instead, I hugged him back with the arm that was stroking his hair, and rested my head on his chest.

Being in Edwards arms felt so safe and warm... and right, I let my eyes flutter closed as I let out a contented sigh. I kept humming to him until I fell asleep. And for the first night in over a year, I slept all night. No dreams, no memories, no closets. Just the safety of Edward’s arms.

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