A/N: I don’t own Twilight, but Stephanie Meyers does.

This chapter is pretty intense guys.

Thanks for all the reviews. In return… you get a two-fer! Two chapters in one day! You all rock. Too much. I always love reading the reviews. They make me smile. And type faster. Who knew?

EPOV

Esme wasted no time. When Carlisle arrived home from work he called both Emmet and I into his office. I wasn’t surprised when he asked us if we wanted to go over for Thanksgiving dinner the next day. But they were both very surprised to learn I was accepting the invitation. Luckily, they both kept their mouths shut.

Right as I was about to lift my sleepy, sniffling ass off the chair across from Carlisle’s desk, he made us both sit back down. I slumped back into the leather and quirked an eyebrow at him. His eyes got tense around the edges for a moment as he removed his glasses.

“Esme’s niece just moved here from Phoenix.” He started, for some reason only looking at me. “You probably don’t know her as well as Emmet does, Edward. But… you must be very careful around her.” I nearly snorted. Don’t know her as well as Emmet? If you only knew. But I had to keep up the charade, so I put on an innocent look of curiosity. “She’s very uncomfortable around people, and she doesn’t like being touched.” He frowned. I almost snorted again. But I could appreciate his compassion for her… situation, so I just nodded in understanding and went back to my room to wait for the very girl that ‘I didn’t know as well as Emmet’.

I took more of the cold medicine, even though I probably didn’t need it anymore. It kept me alert enough to just barely function. I probably had a total of four hours of sleep since I got sick. It was really wearing me down. I even tried going back to sleep Saturday after I woke up from another dream. But I just couldn’t do it. I could feel my brain turning to mush. Things were getting harder to remember, and I even forgot an entire Trigonometry class today. I had only had that happen a few other times before. I was pushing my limits. It was fucked up, and stupid, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I was tired. And not just sleepy tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of constantly straddling the line between reality and unconsciousness and never being able to fully experience either one. I would give anything to just feel normal again. To be able to walk somewhere and have the ability to actually fucking register everything that was going on around me. I was tired. And completely fucking terrified that I’d never get the chance to know anything different.

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I cleaned my room tonight. It kept me busy and hopefully would assure Bella I wasn’t a complete fucking pig. Even though I probably was. She came at exactly midnight like always. I never heard her coming up the house. She would make an excellent juvenile delinquent. She certainly dressed the part in her usual black jeans and hoodie.

But the clothes were always the last thing I noticed about Bella. I could see it wearing her down too. She didn’t just have circles under eyes. They were bags. She was pushing it too, I could tell. Her eyelids were in a constant state of half closed. She was straddling the line right along with me. I almost wanted to offer her some cold medicine, and then noticed she brought her own thermos tonight. Coffee, I assumed. For the third time today I had to bite back a snort.

She emptied her bag like last night and settled into her spot, reaching for my iPod which I left on the sofa for her. I like to think I got her hooked on music. It was something that was essential to my existence. I noticed she didn’t bring soup this time. Taking my spot in bed, I opened a large container of what appeared to be pasta. The smell of it almost knocked me over. Exquisite was an understatement. I ate with no inhibitions, just the way my girl liked me to. She’d let out the occasional lethargic chuckle, amused by my appetite.

“Hey…” I chided with a mouth full of noodles. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, I’m a growing teenager.” I glared, feigning offense at her amusement, which made her chuckle even louder. Then she leaned down and started unlacing her shoes to remove them. I cocked my head to the side, wondering if that bothered me, and finding no reason as to why it should.

Once she had her shoes off, she placed them neatly at her feet, and brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “So what’s your favorite thing to eat at Thanksgiving?” she asked quietly. Thanksgiving was only tomorrow… or today technically, so I could just imagine my girl putting together a whole menu.

“Hmm…” I mused, thinking over her question and twirling a lump of pasta around my fork. I hadn’t really had a real Thanksgiving in so long, and I was so tired I couldn’t remember all the traditional dishes. But I didn’t feel like burdening my girl with either one of those disturbing facts, so I decided to stroke her ego instead. “Doesn’t really matter. Anything you make will be better than all that other shit.” I shrugged and popped the fork full of pasta into my mouth.

That comment made her smile. A real smile that reached her eyes. Which was rare to see from Bella. Usually it’d be a half smile, or a little grin, or a tense almost-smile that she put too much effort behind. I suppose we were alike in that way too. But all too soon her smile turned into a yawn so big and deep it made her eyes tear up a bit. She snatched the coffee off the floor and began drinking it greedily. And because yawns were weirdly infectious, I had to yawn too, which just amplified my drowsiness.

I plunged us into a deep conversation after that, desperate to engage our minds in anything else but sleep. I asked her about what happened in Trig today. We had the same curriculum, just different hours. She proceeded to reach into the depths of her own failing memory for something that she learned. Which, sadly, wasn’t much. Then we talked about a Bio project that was coming up next month. We joked about the stripper uniform Brandon was wearing that day. She told me about her old truck in Phoenix, and I told her about my Volvo… omitting the parts about Mallory and Stanley of course. Bella told me about all the things she was making for dinner that day, and I would ask her specifics to keep her mind occupied.

When five thirty finally rolled around, Bella was out of coffee, and my packet of cold medicine was gone. I was worried about staying awake today because we had no school due to the holiday. I knew Bella would make it though. Cooking always kept her awake.

I watched her closely as she trudged out the glass door wearing her bag on her back, inspecting her steps for any sway that might make the climb down too dangerous, but her steps never faltered, so I let her do her thing. I still peeked out the curtains though to make sure she made it next door safely. Which she did.

So I made my way to the bathroom connected to my room, and took a very cold shower. As soon as the ice cold water hit my skin, every cell in me woke up. I tensed against the frigid temperature, but didn’t flinch or move away from it. It was something I was used to doing when it got bad like this. And I had to stay awake today. When I was satisfied I was clean and completely alert, I stepped out of the shower door with my teeth chattering, and praying it didn’t make my cold flare back up.

I figured Daddy C. would want me to be ‘presentable’, so I shaved off all the thick stubble that had accumulated over the weekend. I wasn’t dressing up or any stupid shit. He could kiss my ass if he was expecting that.

In the end, the whole bathroom shebang only took me two hours. Which fucking sucked. Because I was already back inside the inviting warmth of my bedroom, glaring at my bed. I let out a frustrated growl and snatched my sketch book off my bed. I knew if I even touched it I’d be dead to the world. So instead I took Bella’s spot on the sofa, which still smelled like her. Flowers and cookies. I breathed deeply, letting the scent soothe my nerves, and started sketching, willing the clock to move faster.

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It was possibly the hardest day I’ve ever experienced in all my years of staying awake. I took two more cold showers that afternoon, and came out with the most detailed sketch in the history of Edward Cullen artwork.

I dragged my feet down the stairs, nearly tripping twice, at precisely five-o-clock. Daddy C., always the punctual food moocher, was already waiting by the door. He narrowed his eyes at my usual casual attire, and I just narrowed mine right back, daring him to say something about it. I knew he got off on the whole ‘family bonding’ shit that we never did, so he backed off and said nothing.

It was like having tunnel vision when I was this tired. My brain was only absorbing what was directly in front of me. I was like a machine, going through all the motions, when there just wasn’t enough electricity to make it work one hundred percent.

I don’t even remember Emmet coming up beside me, or us walking out the door, or us walking across the yard. It was just another block of time completely lost where my legs moved and my eyes blinked, but nothing registered. And suddenly we were walking in the Brandon house. I furrowed my brows and shook my head, looking around disoriented, wondering where the fuck the last five minutes went, when Esme came up and engulfed me in a big hug that startled me into the here and now. Reluctantly, I returned the hug, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her gently.

Esme was a kind and caring soul full of compassion. She reminded me a lot of Carlisle, which was just proven more by her taking Bella in. She also reminded me a little of my own mother, which made me both enjoy this hug, and resent it, all at the same time.

“Thank you for inviting us, Esme.” I slurred out politely while she released me. Even I couldn’t be a dick to Esme. She made it impossible. She smiled warmly at me before Emmet pulled her into his own bear hug, which left her slightly breathless. I looked around the small living room she led us into and noticed Brandon on the couch at the far end of the room. I took some amusement in the fact she glared at me when I entered. I just smiled at her, because it pissed her off, and also because I couldn’t find the energy to be annoyed.

Suddenly, I was in the dining room in front of a chair and a ridiculously long table standing next to Emmet. I rubbed my forehead and furrowed my brow again. What the fuck? It was like I skipped the delusion stages of sleep deprivation and was just heading right into memory loss. Idly, I was wondering if this whole dinner wasn’t a hallucination. I was completely disoriented. I slowly lowered myself into the seat next to Emmet’s, wary of the events happening, and scared shitless I was going to do something that would make me look insane.

But then my girl walked in. And the sight of her woke me up minutely. It was the first time I had ever seen her without her hoodie on. She was just in a plain white t-shirt, not baggy, but not tight either. And I could see her arms for the first time. They were skinny and pale, which I probably expected, but I just wasn’t accustomed to seeing so much of her. The sight of it almost felt obscene to me. She nodded a timid hello at Carlisle and took her seat across from me, beside Alice; leaving Esme and Carlisle at the two opposite ends of the table.

She looked almost as tired as I was. Her eyelids were still drooping and purple while she lazily licked her lips. She peeked up at me for a second before looking away, back to the large steaming turkey I was only just now taking time to notice. I was praying she would take and hold my attention by saying something to someone so I wouldn’t space out again, but she remained completely quiet while everyone filled their plates.

Suddenly, I was bringing a fork with a piece of turkey on it up to my closed mouth. I froze, my fork lingering in mid air, while I furrowed my brow again and looked around. Was I eating? Alice was completely ignoring me, and Esme was having a conversation with Carlisle. And Emmet… well Emmet was doing what Emmet does best and just stuffing his fucking face. But Bella was staring right into my eyes.

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BPOV

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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A/N: Forgive me if I was over descriptive. Edward made me do it.

Reviews make Edward sleep longer.