TUS - Chapter Eleven: Endeavor The Warmth

 

 There For You

Flyleaf

'Cause I hear the whispered words

In your masterpiece beautiful

You speak the unspeakable through

I love you too

I wanna be there for you

And be someone you can come to

I wanna be there for you

And be someone you can come to

The love runs deeper than my bones

I wanna be there for you

I was staring openly at our hands to the exact spot our fingers touched. Neither of us made a move to pull apart, nor did the sensation dissipate the longer our skin stayed connected. "There's…so much," Edward breathed out.

My head snapped up, eyes locking onto his face. His were focused on our hands, but his expression more than defined his confusion – I understood that feeling all too well. I'd been wearing my confusion badge a lot since I'd met Edward.

One of his eyebrows was raised higher than the other, his nose was slightly wrinkled and there was an obvious crease between his brows. "Why, Bella?" he whispered, shaking his head. I bit my lip hard, completely terrified of the underlying reason to his question. This thing that kept happening when we touched, was it too much for him? Would he want me to leave now? I was terrified that was the case, that I was going to be rejected by him now, and because of that, I'd never wanted to know someone's thoughts more than I did in this moment. "Why are you?"

"Why am I what?" I asked as I pulled my hand away, careful not to do so too abruptly. I tried to mask the tension in my voice, but knew I was failing miserably.

"It's so warm. Why…why are you so warm?"

"I don't-"

"He didn't… It was never…" He seemed lost in his musings, so much so, I felt as if I were standing outside a room, eavesdropping. "He wasn't warm."

The way he said it, the agony twined with his words, made my heart feel as though someone took a straight razor to it, slicing through the tough muscle to the source of me, penetrating my soul. His pain had such a daunting affect on me, and I barely knew much about him or what happened to him. "Edward, what did he-"

He inhaled sharply, glancing down at his hands. "I don't want to, Bella."

"What, Edward?" I wanted to reach out to him, terrified I might be pushing too hard. No, what I really wanted to do was touch him again. "What don't you want to?"

His eyes met mine pleadingly, and he exhaled his words on a crushed whisper. "Be in the cold anymore."
"I don't want you in the cold either," I choked out. "I…" I bit my lip as the compunction for what he lost and what he should have had consumed me, fueling my need to tell him what I was feeling. "I just…All I want to do is bring you out of the cold."

His body eased, but his eyes shadowed over as his face shifted through emotions, finally settling with a bemused expression. "How?"

"We could..uh…talk."

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me wearily. I wasn't sure if he'd answer or simply just stare. "We do," he murmured.

"I know," I told him. "It helps, right? When we talk, I mean?"

He slowly nodded. "You give the warmth." He spoke so softly I almost didn't hear him.

I swallowed thickly. "I…I wanna try something, Edward."

His eyes widened, breathing now staccato. "Bella." He said my name in a plea, making me nearly second guess what I was about to do. But I knew I had to; I had to break through the wall for him.

"I won't hurt you," I promised him. "I'd never hurt you. And I will never let anyone hurt you again." I tried to show him through eye contact and facial expression the conviction of my promise.

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. "What…what did you-" He paused, waiting for me to answer.

I smiled. "I want to play a little game. I think it could help with the cold." His eyebrows lifted in ambiguity. "It's the yes, no game. Lancelot can play too." I nodded my head toward Lancelot, who was sitting upright against the wall right beside where Edward normally sat.

His lip twitched as the left side of his mouth pulled up. My breath caught in the back of my throat as I watched him in awe. "Game?" I nodded. "I don't really-"

"It's like this," I laughed. "Is your name Edward? You'd then answer yes or no."

He was briefly passive, then said, "Yes."

"That's good," I smiled. "Now, you ask me something."

He sat stagnant. Please, Edward, let me in. Let me help you, it's all I want. As he started speaking, all I could do was beam a smile at him. "Is your name…Bella?"

"Why, yes it certainly is," I told him, still smiling, and he actually smiled back. To an outsider, it wouldn't be considered drastic, but to me, it was nothing short of a miracle. I thought my heart was going to burst from my chest. "My turn." I placed my right pointer finger against my chin, feigning deep thought. "Oh, I got one," I started. "Do you have two feet?"

He literally snorted. "Yes." He finds me amusing, this is good.

"Do you have…two feet?"

I leaned forward slightly, speaking just above a whisper, as if I were trying to conceal a secret. "I have three and one is hiding under my armpit, but that's a secret between you and me." I winked.

At first his face morphed to horror, like he thought I was being serious. I shook my head, laughing, and then the smile formed once more, melting my heart all over again.

"My turn," I told him. Just a few easy questions, Bella, to ease him, then move to the tougher ones. "Do you like flowers?"

He shrugged, shaking his head as he clasped his hands tightly in his lap. "I…I'm not…I don't-"

"It's okay," I assured him.

Has he never seen a flower? Dear God, what happened to him? Was he locked up somewhere, unable to go outside? Who could be so damn warped to do such a thing?

"It's your turn." I smiled to encourage him.

He exhaled a resonant breath while looking down at his clasped hands as he asked, "Do you like flowers…Bella?"

"I do. Lilies are my favorite. I think it's my turn, right?" He nodded. It was decided that my next question would be something simple, but about him. And then again, just because it was about him didn't mean it was simple. I needed to know if he knew the answer, if he'd tell me, and more importantly, what that answer was. "How old are you?"

His brow furrowed as he stared at his hands, moving them in his lap while stalling to answer. "Twenty," he mumbled. "I'm twenty." Hmmm…he knows his age. "Your turn."

He was hesitant to start, eyes darting back and forth between his fidgeting hands and the ground. "How old?" He lifted one of his hands just partially from his lap, gesturing in my direction.

"I'm eighteen. I'll be nineteen in September." Now or never, Bella. "Do you know how long you've been here…in this hospital?" I immediately bit into my lip the moment the question hit the air.

His head snapped up, eyes locking with mine, body immediately taut with fear. "I…I-" I could taste a tinge of blood in my mouth from the force my teeth clamping down on my lip caused.

I knew our game was coming to an end, and I knew he was going to close himself off again, but I needed him not to. I needed him to let me in so I continued. "Did someone hurt you?"

A sound bubbled up from his chest, tearing through his lips in an agonized groan. I froze where I sat, feeling the crushing sensation of his pain in that small room. My heart constricted sharply, forming a pyre-like sensation. "Edward, I-"

"No!" he cried, backing himself against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, tears now cascading down my cheeks. Will you ever let me in?

As soon as his back touched the hard wall, he swiveled around to face the wall in a kneeling position, settling his lower body down on his calves, then bent forward so that his stomach was pressed against his thighs, head resting on his knees and his palms flat against the wall, completely molding himself around Lancelot. That sound, the one he made that dismembered me from the inside out, continued.

"Oh God, Edward, I'm…I'm so sorry. I'm not doing this to upset you, I'm doing this to help you," I sobbed. "I wanna take away the cold. Let me in, let me give you warmth…Please."

I wiped the tears that obstructed my vision, taking deep breaths so that I could sedate my emotions. Edward needed my strength; I couldn't fall apart now. When my vision became unclouded, I noticed Edward's shirt had bunched up, and at the small of his back was some kind of strange line. I wanted to know what the mark was, so without really reflecting what I should or shouldn't do, I scooted forward just a few inches to make it out clearly. When I realized what it was, I nearly vomited where I sat. There, on the lower part of Edward's back, was a scar I'd guesstimate to be nearly six inches in length, quite thick and raised but pale in color. And because I was so much closer to him now, I could see the hint of a similar mark peeking out from beneath the shirt. He'd obviously been whipped or beaten hard enough to scar his flesh permanently.

"What did he do to you?" I choked out, still lost in my own reverie. New tears, angry tears, spilled from my eyes and again I reacted without thinking. I moved forward further, putting myself at arm's length from Edward. I reached my hand out, brushing my fingers lightly along the scar on his back. I wanted to touch him, touch the source of his pain and make it disappear. Instantly, I felt the spark that occurred when we touched.

His body tensed as he inhaled a jagged breath, then my name fell from his lips in a crippled whisper, "Bella."

I blinked a few times at the mention of my name. "I shouldn't….I'm sorry."

I started to pull my hand away. "Please," he murmured. "Don't."

"I don't want to make-"

His body relaxed minutely. "It makes it better."

"That's all I want, to make it better."

"You do," he breathed. "It's your warmth." He turned his head slightly to the right, but remained resting against the wall, staring from the corner of his eye; Lancelot's legs were just beneath his head. "I can't-" he paused, taking in a deep breath. "Be like you…Bella. I'm all gone." He sounded so defeated, as if he'd accepted those words long ago and believed them fully.

"No." I shook my head, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. "You're not.

"He took it…everything."

"He didn't," I promised him. I wiped away the dampness that accumulated from my tears. "I can see you, see what's inside. If I can see it, it's still there."

I reached for the hem of his shirt, glancing up toward his head even though I knew he could only see me through his peripherals. "Did he?"

He hesitantly nodded.

"Can I?" I had his shirt within my hands, ready to pull it upward to look at the rest of his back.

I could feel the fear rolling off him in waves as his body stiffened. "I'm…It's not-"

"It's okay," I assured him, forcing my voice to remain calm while running the fingers of my left hand along the scar I'd touched minutes prior. "I'd never hurt you. I only want to see."

He remained taut, but slowly nodded, his chest rising and falling with clamorous breaths that resonated through the room. I re-gripped his shirt in both hands, gently pulling upward. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob when I revealed more skin etched with more scars. There were five other scars that mimicked the first one.

"Oh God, Edward," I gasped.

"I took…my medicine." His voice sounded far off, empty.

"No, that's not medicine. That's cruelty."

"He said so. He…he told me, but I didn't listen. I was supposed to listen. He warned me." The anger flamed deep inside me. I never thought I'd hate another human being. Hate is such a powerful emotion, one that can set you upon a dark path, but I knew I hated the man who hurt Edward. I felt that hate so deeply my mouth was saturated in the taste of it, my veins burned with its venom.

"If you do it-" He seemed so lost in his own mind, in what he was saying. "The crime, you take your medicine…and go in the dark." His voice lowered, sounding apologetic and fearful. "I was so hungry….I should have, but I…It had bugs on it." I felt my stomach lurch. "I wasted, and I wasn't supposed to waste."

I closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath. "Is that why you have these? Did he-" I paused, proceeding cautiously, "do this because of that?"

I ran my fingers gently along the other scars on his back, and he shivered beneath my touch.
"Yes."

"He's a bad man, Edward."

"I was bad."

"You weren't, you were just a child. He did things to you that-"

"I know what I am," he whispered, cutting me off.

"He lied." I applied more pressure against his back with my fingertips. "You aren't what he says you are. You never were. You're so good, Edward." I leaned forward, pressing my face against his back while running my fingers gently across his marred flesh. I probably shouldn't have, I knew that, but I seemed to lose myself in him, in what I thought he needed, and the only thing that mattered was comforting him, giving him the warmth he felt in my touch. "Please let me in."

He sighed, his body trembling against mine, but he never asked me to move. We sat there for some time in comfortable silence, though his body continued slightly trembling, with him pressed against the cement wall and me pressed against him. Finally, he decided it was enough.

"Can I rest…Bella?"

I pulled back, palming my hands against the ground and began scooting backward toward my wall. "Of course, I'll just-"

He peered over his shoulder. "Stay…please," he pleaded.

"Okay." I scooted back toward him, settling myself beside him against the wall. I lifted my knees just partially toward my chest. He turned away from the wall slowly, and, just as slowly, laid his head in my lap along with Lancelot's, easing my legs down to an outstretched position as he did so. We stared at each other for some time before he pressed his face into my stomach and sighed, closing his eyes.

I ran my fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it was against my fingertips and at how much he did let me in, knowing how much it hurt him to do it. "Just sleep, Edward. I'll watch over you."
I was just starting to fall asleep, the numbness in the lower half of my body more acute, when he began stirring in my lap, so I lifted my head off the wall and peered down at him. He was staring up at me, so I smiled. "Hey, did you sleep good?"

"I did," he answered.

"You weren't asleep long." I raised my arm, glancing down at my watch. "It's just after lunchtime. Are you hungry?"

He shrugged.

"I'll tell you what, I'll get our lunch ready and if you're not hungry right away, then I can store it until you are. I made us some chicken and dumplings,"

He sat up, seating himself to the right of me, but his head was facing me, eyes locking with mine. "I've never-"

"You've never had chicken and dumplings?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"They're really good. It's basically just shredded chicken in a stew with chunks of biscuits."
"Oh." He legitimately sounded intrigued.

I laughed. "I think you'll like them, and if you don't, we'll get you something else." I palmed the floor and moved to pull my legs toward me for leverage to hoist my body up, but they were still quite tingly. I groaned. "I just need a minute." I started rubbing them to relieve the numbing sensation so they'd be back to full mobility.

Edward gasped, and I abruptly lifted my head, like a knee-jerk reaction to the noise he made. He was staring down at my legs, looking completely frantic as he watched me knead them back to full recovery. "Did I…I hurt you. I didn't mean-"

"No…no, you didn't." I immediately removed my hands from my legs. "My legs are just numb. It's like a tickling sensation. It happens sometimes when you sit too long. Really, I'm not hurt, and you did nothing wrong. I promise."

"You're…sure?" He still seemed skeptical.

"I'm sure. I'll never lie to you," I smiled reassuringly. "I'm going to go get our lunch. I'll be right back."
 He nodded as I stood up from the floor, retrieved our food from my tote bag and made my way out of his room. When I entered the boiler room, Marcus was leaning against his bench, eating the chicken and dumplings. I laughed, shaking my head. "These are good. But you really need to-"

"I know, I know," I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "You want me to stop bringing you food, but I have to warn you, I have selective hearing."

He shook his head as if he were disappointed in me, but I could see it was for show; especially with the twitch of his bottom lip that threatened to pull up into a smile. "Uh-huh…is that a smile I see beginning?"

His lip twitched further until it formed a complete grin. "It's no wonder the boy's become attached to you. You're good for him." I blushed at his comment, and he noticed, then cleared his throat. "So…uh, how's it going in there?" He gestured toward Edward's room.

I glanced down at my feet, biting my lip before I raised my eyes back to him. "It's bad, Marcus."

He set his bowl down, stepping forward two steps, now visibly tense. "What do you mean?"

"I attempted to get him to open up to me by playing the yes, no game," I explained. "I asked him a question, he answered and reiterated. It started well, but slowly began to sink when I asked him his age."

His eyes widened. "And did he tell you?"

I nodded as I approached the microwave, placing mine and Edward's bowls inside. "He did. He's twenty."

"I guess I figured him to be around that age. What happened after?"

"I asked him if he knew how long he'd been here, then proceeded to ask if someone hurt him. He started shutting down on me, making this horrible sound. Marcus, you don't know how horrible it was. He faced the wall, and then I saw this mark on his lower back, so I moved closer to him to see what it was and-" I paused as my voice began cracking, tears building at the corners of my eyes. I swallowed, then began again.

"He had scars on his back, Marcus, at least six of them. They looked like something caused from a whip, maybe. He let me touch them, and he told me a little about-" I stopped, knowing he'd understand.

"I knew it would be bad," he whispered. He reached back, grasping the bench, leaning against it once more. "Did he say…never mind. He told you these things, and I imagine he wouldn't want you telling anyone."

"You're not just anyone, Marcus." I wiped the tears that spilt over and trailed toward my lips. "I only know it was a man, and he tried forcing Edward to eat food that had bugs on it, and when he didn't he was beaten, leading to the scars on his back."

His fists clenched at his side, his face an angry red. "I'm a lot of things, Bella, and I've even considered a lot of things, but never have I considered killing someone…until now. If I were to come across this man, I'd end up a murderer." I gasped and his eyes met mine, his expression saddened. "I know it in my heart."

"Don't say that," I cried. "You and I are all Edward has. It may not seem like it, but he needs you too."

"I like to think so."

"He does."

The microwave timer beeped, startling us both. He scratched his head, forcing a smile. "He's probably wondering where you are, and as upset as we are about what's happened to him, what he's feeling is much worse." He turned around, opening the microwave and pulled out the bowls, handing them to me. "Go on and get him fed."

I smiled back. "Thanks, Marcus."

He winked, though the sadness was still present upon his face. "Anytime."

I took the bowls and headed back to Edward. He was still seated against the wall beside Lancelot, waiting for me. "Okay, chicken and dumplings coming right up," I chuckled as I walked toward him, handing him his bowl.

He reached for it, taking it from my hands. It occurred to me, as I watched him observing the contents of the bowl, that even though he'd taken food directly from my hands previously, it had never been with me approaching him. "Do you mind?" I gestured toward the spot near him.

"Uh…no." He was still studying the bowl as I sat beside him.

"It tastes better than it looks," I laughed. "But if you don't want to eat it, that's alright. I'll get you something else."

He lifted his head, meeting my gaze. "I'll eat it."

I gave him a small smile, then took a bite of my food. He watched me, possibly waiting for me to react abhorred to the taste or something. But as soon as I swallowed the bite, coupled with a hearty, 'mmmm' afterward, he braved a bite himself.

"It's not so bad, heh?"

"It's not so bad," he agreed.

We finished eating, probably about forty-five minutes later. Edward was hungry but he always ate slowly, like he was savoring each bite for fear it would be his last. I glanced down at Lancelot, who was seated between Edward and me. He was such a tattered looking thing with his one arm and wilted fur that I imagined was once plush.

As I stared at him, noting all the things that were physically wrong with him, a question came to mind…about Edward, of course.

He was staying in this old abandoned hospital and as far as I could tell, he never left this place, yet he always appeared clean, other than his clothing. His hair was always soft, never matted with dirt, and I recalled as I gazed at the scars upon his back that even his skin was clean, which meant he had to wash himself somewhere. But where?

I was curious about it to the point where I was biting the inside of my cheek as I debated whether or not I should ask him. I'd asked him enough already and the outcome of that was obviously not a good one, though I'd become privy to some of what he'd been through. Could I ask him without upsetting him? I needed to know, in case wherever he was bathing himself wasn't sanitary.

It was a risk I was just going to have to take. But my approach, well, Lancelot was going to help with that.

"You know," I started as I gripped Lancelot in my hands, placing him in my lap. "I have a feeling Lancelot would love to have a bath soon."

Edward's eyes met mine. "He…he already did."

My mouth went agape. "He did?"

Edward nodded.

"When?"

He didn't answer right away; in fact, I felt like he was studying me. "Yesterday."

"And did you-" I cleared my throat. "Uh…have one too?"

"Yes."

At this point I was too curious to be cautious. "Where, Edward?"

I swear his lips formed a small grin as he said, "Here."