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Disclaimer: I do not own twilight. This story belongs to Stephanie Meyers.

Chapter 1 Part II: Identity

Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden .

-Phaedrus

"Why are you crying? I am the one with a busted hand," He raised his voice at her, and struggles to pull his hand free of her unwavering hold. He succeeds, and she cries harder, and then with a jarring slap her hands meet the marble sink, her shoulders sagging instantaneously.

He looked down to the floor and caught a glance of her red sky high heels, matching her miniskirt.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? The last time I saw you you weren't like this. Sure you missed her, whoever she is, but you were never like this. Not with me. What happened?! What the hell did she do to you?!" Her voice is faintly raised but her words barely registered in his brain and he tried his best to ignore the repressed sob lodged in her throat.

Edward nostrils flare contemptuously, as he sneers down at her as if she were nothing to him.

"Don't cry for me. Don't you fucking dare," His voice is low, the musings and ravings of a drunken man, blinded by pain and longing for a love long lost.

How much of this does he actually mean? How much of this will he remember tomorrow? At what point does his abrasive and thoughtless remarks become the very thing that tears away the last bit of hope in his lonely and miserable existence?

He chooses to blatantly ignore the last one on the list of idiotic questions, choosing instead to wallow in self-pity and release his pent up frustration on her. All he could think about was how much of this was all his doing?

No one is allowed to feel sorry for me. Especially not her!

"How can I not?'' she pauses, shaking her head with anger filled tension. She continued, "How can I sit back and watch you destroy yourself...punish yourself. And for what? For her! All for her!" She stifles a sob but a whimper escapes along with a lone, solitary tear. She looks up at her silent companion, waiting for the man she fell in love with years ago to re-inhabit this body standing before her. But it never comes.

"She's taken so much of you already. Is there any of you left for me?" her voice just a whisper, over his harsh breathing.

"I told you my story. I warned you, I-" He takes a deep calming breath, but no peace rescues him. "You knew-"

"Knew what? That you loved another?" The resentment in her tone could not be helped nor bitten back. They were the contemptuous words of a woman scorned. "Yes. I knew. But tell that to my heart Edward." She pressed a firm hand there above her beaten and battered heart, desperation sharp in her fervent gaze.

He had to stop this. It was almost too much. The overwhelming weight of her words continued to loom over him.

"It was a mistake. Everything that may have become of us was a mistake. You knew better than to fall for me."

She turns to him and her chest, clad with a minuscule bikini top, visibly rises and falls on a quick inhale of breath and a sniffle she does not attempt to hide. "Edward..."

"You knew how I was. Don't act as if I am the villain here. I am the one..." He bellows angrily, and the sound of his own voice pierces through the air around them and sends a sharp pain radiating through his chest as he inwardly completes the thought.

I am the one with a broken heart.

He'd told Tanya what he'd said to his love. He told Tanya why he couldn't be with her, how he was deeply and madly in love with her, with a passion strong enough-he swore could move mountains.

"I am the one that is broken beyond repair." He whispers the words like a prayer, his shoulders sag almost as if defeat was so heavy he could no longer stand it.

"You don't have to be, you know. You chose to be this way." He watches transfixed as Tanya curls into her protective ball right before his very eyes. He'd worked endlessly on getting her to open up to him and she in turn helped him forget the love he'd left back home.

"I am this way because life is cruel, and love is a tiny prick of death that injects a sickness into the heart and brain, causing one to say and do things one normally would not. When the effects wear off; what have you then? A woman that can prove how fickle love is, and how ineffective the poison. How ineffective the arrow that was shot through her heart. It did not keep her faithful. It did not keep her love. It did not keep her. That is why I am the way that I am. And it would do you good to steer clear of me from now on."

"No. You're leaving soon, I can feel it. Take me with you." She says, eyeing him as if he has a map to the promise land. "Please. It was hard enough finding you this time. I know I will have no such luck the next time you or I disappear."

He stared at her for long seconds in trepidation as he recalled the months that led up to the day in which his entire world crashed before his very eyes.

Before the wedding, before he found out and rushed home to stop his love from making a horrible mistake. He had first met Tanya at a pub near his college, where she worked as a bartender. Gradually they became friends. But one day, she just left without any hint or word. At first he was a little hurt by her actions but what did he know about her- about how she was the only working one in her family, how she had to work to help her mother stay above water, and to feed her younger siblings.

But what he didn't know was that by the time she came back to look for him, he was long gone to fight for a love which was never meant to be his.

But still he recalled the fond memories with great reverence. Great memories with her.

Tanya.

She'd even helped him home a few nights. He was sick all the time and assumed it was because of the new life he was living. He drunk himself stupid when he wasn't in class, and it was all to drive away the ache in his chest. Tanya was the one that made him admit to himself and the world that he missed her. That he missed love.

"She can hear you." Tanya had whispered in his ears, leaning over the counter, but he'd heard her loud and clear. "You two may be miles apart, but your heart still beats for her. Say her name, and her heart will listen. Her heart will know. Her heart will sing your song. And together you both will be made whole."

She'd said that to him. She helped him, and soon after he picked himself up, he returned the favor. He'd helped her open her heart back up after being hurt so many times over. He never imagined she would open so many of her wounds for him, but he was appreciative.

They both had an understanding, and an immense amount of respect for each other, but nothing more. Not until that fateful day when everything changed, and his wounds needed patching.

"Tan..."He breathed her nickname, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

"Don't fill me with lies only to leave me disappointed, Edward. Just don't do it." She moved away from him. "And I'm not her anymore. I'm not Tanya."

Edward was confused by her words, but utterly drunk out of his mind, numb to any and everything.

He watches her fold her arms across her chest. "Tell me everything. I have to know."

He turned to Tanya, and her expectations hung between them. He had to deliver, he owed it to her. He had to bare his soul to her. So he did.

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