Title: Lacrimosa
Author: stolenxsanity
Characters/Pairings: EdwardxBella, BPOV
Rating: Mature
Spoilers: None; AH/AU

Summary: Bella Cullen had it all – a loving husband, a home, a job, plans for the future – until one day, the visit no military wife wants to get destroys it all. EdwardxBella, NON-HEA.

Disclaimer: Twilight and all recognizable characters belong to SMeyer.

A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who took time out of their days to pre-read, beta, and hold my hand through writing this – vi0lentserenity, naelany, gypsysue and ahizelm. I know I say this every time but I honestly could not have gotten through writing this without you ladies. I love you all for simply being there, being dependable and being a shoulder to cry on not only while I wrote this but over the past few months as well. I really can't tell you enough just how much I appreciate everything. It may not have seemed like much to you but it meant the world to me. So, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To everyone that reads this, be warned, there is no happily ever after here. Writing this story legitimately broke my heart over and over again but real life doesn't always have a fairytale ending. Please keep that in mind while you read this. Also, have tissues on hand as I'm sure you'll need it. With that being said, I'll leave you with this link to the Freedom is not Free organization for your reference: http://www(dot)freedomisnotfree(dot)com/

I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart
that's still beating

Lifehouse, Broken

My knees were pulled to my chest as I sat in the corner of my room, as far from the door as possible. I was wrapped around myself, a mess of wayward limbs and thick, knotted hair that hung around my face in tangles. Yesterday's outfit still covered my body, even after working with the kids all day, and I knew that it was dirty, that I needed to shower or, at the very least, change. The tears that had been a constant companion since the previous afternoon continued to fall, unchecked, as slight tremors wracked my body and the pain that centered in my chest grew, pulsing outward with every shaky inhale and exhale. The knocking at the front door had gone ignored and, even though I knew that Alice – my neighbor and best friend – wouldn't let up until I answered, I couldn't bring myself to move, to care.

There wasn't a single thing in this world that mattered to me anymore except the overturned box near my feet and the letters that had spilled from it, scattered all over the floor; some were opened, their contents spotted from the tear drops that had fallen and smudged the ink and others remained safely in their envelopes, yellowed and worn with time. I squeezed my eyes shut at the images that assaulted me, a mixture of his perfect penmanship and jade colored eyes, bright with adoration. For me.

A strangled sob tore from my throat as my hands clenched into tight fists against my thighs and I rocked back and forth. My throat was raw and my eyes hurt but, still, I couldn't bring myself to move from the position I was in. I knew that hiding away wouldn't change anything and that I couldn't avoid people forever. In fact, I was sure that everyone already knew what had happened. My neighbors had surely seen the car that had pulled into the driveway yesterday afternoon, not long after I'd returned from work.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

I'd been planning on what to make for dinner as I stood on the front porch sipping a glass of wine, waiting for a phone call that never came – that would never come. Silently, I watched as the two men that stepped out of the car moved up the walkway, their expressions somber and I internally pleaded with every deity that I could think of that I was imagining things, that they were nothing more than hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation. Tears had already been gathered at the corners of my eyes and, as I blinked, I'd felt the hot liquid slide down the side of my face in a never ending stream. Inhaling a ragged breath, I shook my head from side to side, willing the images away, wishing that if I just tried hard enough – believed hard enough – that everything would go back to what it'd been just forty-eight hours prior.

"Mrs. Cullen?" The first gentleman had inquired as he reached up to remove the beret from atop his head.

Nodding absently as everything inside of me screamed for me to deny it, my eyes zeroed in on the array of medals that hung from his impeccable uniform before moving to the other man that stood to the side and slightly behind him. I felt my wine glass slip from my fingers, crashing to pieces on the ground. The still chilled liquid splashed onto my bare foot as my hand shot to the railing, gripping the weathered wood tightly in my hand. Waiting. I knew that I didn't want to hear whatever it was that they had to tell me, knew that it'd be bad – that it would destroy me – but I couldn't move. Frozen in my spot, I lifted my head and squared my shoulders, bracing myself. I could feel the eyes of the neighbors on me as they peeked through their living room windows, hiding behind the curtains and knowing just as well as I did what was coming.

"Can we talk inside?" I followed the movement of his lips as my brain fought to process his words before I turned slightly, my upper body facing the door while my feet remained planted, unmoving. A touch at my shoulder, feather light and tentative, jarred me from my thoughts and the loose tendrils of hair lashed at my face as I snapped my head around. My chest heaved with the force of my breaths – in and out, up and down – as the tenuous hold I had on my self-control strained, stretched taut, before breaking.

"No, no, no." The words fell from my lips like a chant as I repeated myself over and over again, one hand wrapped around my torso as the other clutched at my hair, tugging harshly and reveling in the shock of pain.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Opening my eyes, I looked around the room slowly, taking in everything around me. All of it – from the off-white carpet with the shoe polish stain near the doorway to the scratches on the wall behind the headboard, a casualty of the rather enthusiastic reunion we'd had just a few weeks ago – reminded me of him, of Edward. In a fit of misplaced anger and desperation, the closet door had been yanked open and all of the paraphernalia that marked his years in the service lay strewn about the bed. Plaques and pictures had been torn from the walls and, like a magnet; my gaze was drawn to the only one that mattered, the only one worth preserving. It was six months after our high school graduation and we stood at the foot of the stairs in his parents' house, a home that had become my own over the years. Edward's arm was wrapped around my waist as he looked down at me, grinning and though my body was facing forward, my head was turned upward. Even from my profile, the smile on my lips was visible, obvious as I looked at him, my left hand resting on his cheek and the diamond that was secured to my ring finger by a white gold band glinted in the sunlight that filtered in through the windows. I could recall everything about that day perfectly, as if it'd just happened.

Reaching out, I grasped the silver frame in my hand, cringing as my dormant muscles protest against the action. I traced Edward's profile with my finger as the salt-tinged tears landed on the glass. He'd insisted on wearing his dress uniform, a caveat I'd been ecstatic to allow once I'd seen him in it for the first time, and the sight of it brought about another round of gut wrenching sobs. I clasped the picture to my chest as the words that had forever altered my world came rushing back.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Ma'am?" The voice, a different one this time, was filled with concern. This man was slightly older, his features more worn as he looked me over carefully before gesturing toward the house once more. "You should sit down." I could do nothing but stare as he approached me warily, offering his hand and leading me inside.

The muted thuds of the officer's combat boots as they hit the tile repetitively echoed around the otherwise quiet space. My steps faltered, briefly, when I reached the living room and my gaze landed upon the picture that Alice had taken of us before he'd left to finish off the rest of his tour. We'd been sitting out back, barbequing with some friends, and I'd somehow ended up on Edward's lap. I could still hear the laughter that had surrounded us then, thoughts of his impending departure pushed far from our minds as we simply enjoyed being together again. Swallowing thickly, I shuffled to the couch and collapsed onto the soft cushions, pulling my knees up and curling in around myself as my eyes darted between the two men frantically.

"Edward …" I murmured as I clenched my eyes, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "Is he … no, he promised … he can't …" My head shook from side to side in denial, refusing to believe what I instinctively knew to be true. Edward had promised me, sworn up and down, that he'd be home soon and repeated over and over again that, once he got back, he was done and we could have a nice, normal life together. He'd promised me the white-picket fence and the two-point-five kids with a dog in the backyard in a nice, thoroughly middle-class neighborhood where I wouldn't have to worry about him being deployed again.

I knew the men were still speaking as they sat across from me in the cream-colored armchairs that Edward and I had argued about in what felt like another lifetime. Their hands moved, emphasizing their words but all I could hear was static, a buzzing in my ear, only picking up bits and pieces of what they were saying.

"Regret to inform you … Staff Sergeant Edward Anthony Cullen … Killed in Action … Sorry for your loss."

A garbled sounding cry escaped my mouth before I bit down on my lip, hard. I could feel myself shaking, my body chilled and heated at the same time, as I cried. It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and stomped on as I uttered quiet, broken pleas to no one in particular. My mind refused to accept their words, accept that my husband and the love of my life had been taken away from me. Minutes passed, feeling like hours, as I remained in the same spot, going over and over the news that they'd come to deliver. I'd been lucid enough to, at one point, remember my manners and make a half-hearted attempt at playing the gracious host and had been thankful when both guests had declined, making their leave after offering their condolences once more. The phone had rang, repeatedly – excessively – constantly drawing me from my cyclical thoughts long enough for me to silence it before, finally, turning it off and letting it fall to the floor. There wasn't a single person that I wanted to talk to, that could possibly help me understand why this had happened to him, to me – to us.

As I sat there, trapped in my head, all I could think about was our last conversation, how happy Edward had been as he'd shown me the calendar pinned over his makeshift bed. "Just a few more months, baby," he'd said, with a mile wide smile on his face. "I'll be home before you know it; it's all downhill from here and I promise, after this, I'm done. I'm not re-enlisting."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The sound of someone knocking on the front door, again, jarred me from my thoughts and I recoiled slightly before straightening up. My muscles were tense and tight as I moved, attempting to loosen my body from its rigid pose. Standing to my feet slowly, I lost my balance before catching myself on the top of the dresser and rolled my shoulders as I twisted my torso from side to side until I heard the satisfying crack and pop of my spine.

"Coming," I mumbled under my breath, the words barely audible as I moved through the house at a snail's pace, head turned down toward my feet. I didn't want to look at anything or see the destruction that I'd caused the night before when I'd finally managed to lift myself from the couch. At the door, I paused as I took a deep breath before sliding the deadbolt open and twisting the lock on the knob.

All the promises we break
from the cradle to the grave
when all I want is you

U2, All I Want is You

I heard the soft sigh from behind me as I lay in bed, curled up around Edward's pillow with his dress uniform jacket wrapped around me tightly. "Sweetie," my mother breathed as she crawled in beside me, wrapping both arms around my torso and pulling me to her. "You need to get out of bed, eat. I know that you're not sleeping, even though you should be, and this … it isn't healthy; Edward would hate to see you like this, baby."

Inhaling a ragged breath, I buried my face in my pillow as I began to sob again. The sound reverberated throughout the space as Renee moved, tightening her grip and began whispering against the back of my head. I couldn't hear what she was saying but, I didn't need to; I'd heard it all over the past few days to the point that the words had lost their meaning. Nothing made sense, nothing felt right.

"It hurts too much," I whimpered into the cool cotton beneath my face as I curled up further in a vain attempt at protecting myself from the pain that continued to tear through my chest.

"Oh, sweetie, I know it does and it's going to for awhile. I wish it didn't or that I could take the pain from you, for you." Her fingers combed through my knotted hair in a soothing gesture and I shifted toward her, burying my face in her chest. Guttural sobs wracked through my body as the hot tears flowed freely, soaking Renee's shirt as I clutched at the fabric of my own. My fingernails dug into the skin beneath it as I felt the thud of my heart beat against the tops of my fingers.

"Make … it … stop," I begged as I pulled my head back and looked into my mother's eyes. "Please? I can't … I feel like I can't … breathe, mom. It hurts. I need him, I can't live without him."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

As the lock clicked, the door was pushed open from the outside to reveal Alice, her eyes wide, puffy and shot through with streaks of red. "Oh, Bella … I'm so –"

With one hand clamped over my mouth, I shook my head rapidly, silently pleading with her not to continue as I retreated. I didn't get far before my back hit the wall that separated the foyer from the living room and, unable to bear the weight of the grief that permeated my entire being, I slid to the floor. Inhaling deeply, my watery gaze met Alice's as she sat across from me and her hands fluttered in the air between us before she lunged forward, wrapping me in a fierce hug.

"I saw them, yesterday … when they were leaving," she started as she gripped my shoulders in her small hands. "I tried … I kept telling myself that it was just … I don't know, a mistake but then you … you weren't at work and you didn't call and you hadn't been answering the phone last night."

"No," my voice was soft, barely audible as Alice continued speaking, oblivious to the way I'd stiffened and cringed away from her. The arms that had, initially, returned her embrace had fallen to the floor and I shifted, blocking the sounds of her stilted speech. "No, no, no," I continued, verbally and internally, chanting as my hands moved to my face and I pressed the heels of my palms into my eye sockets roughly.

Alice rocked back, rested on the balls of her feet as she looked at me before nodding, once, and standing up, "do you think you could … get some rest?" She asked quietly as her tired, sad eyes flickered over me, cataloging the state I was in.

In response, I stumbled to my feet, wiping my face in the process. "I can … try," I stuttered out around the lump that had formed in my throat. Moments later, with no clear recollection of how I'd gotten from point A to point B, I found myself on the couch; the quilt that Edward's mother had given us covered my legs as I sat staring blankly at the wall across the room. I could hear a whispered conversation emanating from the direction of the kitchen amidst the sound of running water and softly clanging pots and pans but, I ignored it. I was exhausted, mentally and emotionally, but my brain refused to shut down and give me the reprieve that I so desperately craved.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Sweetie," my mother's concerned voice brought me out of my reminiscing as she stroked my cheek, her thumb wiping away the tears that continued to fall. "Carlisle and Esme will be here soon," she stated after a moment as she sat up and tucked her legs beneath her. "Your father, too … they'll all be arriving from Washington tonight. I wasn't sure … well, I called them after Alice called me. She said that you … needed time to process everything and," her words trailed off as she exhaled slowly and, for the first time since I'd been aware of her arrival, I took notice of her appearance.

Renee had always looked younger than her years, something that she'd been proud of when others would inquire whether or not we were sisters. She was nowhere near as put-together as Esme Cullen was but Renee was a free-spirit, going where the wind took her, in constant motion as she refused to acknowledge her age. I'm young at heart, she'd say, grinning widely as she brushed the hair out of her face. Now, though, there wasn't a trace of that youthful energy that she usually possessed. The expression she wore was somber, stoic, as she averted her eyes to stare at the same picture I'd clutched to my chest before Alice had shown up. There was no fire or playful glint, just resigned acceptance of the circumstances.

In our relationship, I'd always been more of a parent than the child and, while others may have found this reprehensible, it was how I preferred it. Renee often called me an old-soul, stating that I was more like Charlie – my father – in that sense. While my physical appearance so obviously mirrored hers, I was generally more sedate, content to go with the flow instead of forging my own path. The role reversal here was obvious, though, and I was glad for it as I sat up and crawled across the bed to settle myself into her lap.

"Bring him back, mom. Please?" It was a whispered entreaty that fell from my lips as hot tears streaked down my face steadily. "He promised me … he's supposed to be coming back soon, we were going to move home once he was out – or at least back to Washington." My lips were dry, chapped, as I licked them, tasting the saltiness that coated my skin. Looking around the room, I couldn't help but shake my head. Aside from those items that had suffered from my anger, everything remained unchanged. Outwardly, it was as if nothing had happened and time itself hadn't just stopped as my world crashed down around me.

On the inside, though, I was empty, consumed by grief and desolation as my chest physically ached.

A heaving sigh sounded from above my head as Renee's fingers stilled before she retracted them and turned my face toward her. "I would if I could, baby."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark out. Silvery tendrils of moonlight crept across the floor as I stood up, shivering against the chill that permeated the room. I started as I spotted Alice curled up in the armchair across from me, my hand smothering the gasp of surprise. Thankfully, she continued to snore softly, undisturbed, as I moved as fast as my tired body could carry me to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I leaned against the solid wood for a moment before I flipped the overhead light on, blinking against the white spots that obscured my vision. A grimace took over my face at the sight I was met with as I turned toward the mirror. My skin was sallow, pallid, and dark, purplish circles bruised the swollen flesh right below my eyes. My clothes were rumpled and dirty; stains littered the shirt in the shape of miniature fingers from the children at work and my hair was dirty, limp and hanging in tangled knots around my face. I shuddered at my appearance before turning away and running the shower.

I stripped while steam slowly filled the bathroom, surrounding me, before stepping inside. As the water rained down around me, I didn't bother suppressing the cries of anguish as I slid to the floor. My knees were tucked into my chest, held tightly in place with shaking arms. Plea after plea fell from my mouth as I wept, coughing and choking on the words that were being forced out. My hands clenched into fists against my calves. "Come back ... please," I begged while rocking back and forth with the force of emotions that rolled through me. "You promised, damn it!" My body shook as I rested my forehead on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably while my fingernails bit into the fleshy part of my palm, leaving little crevices, reddened around the edges. "Why did you leave me all alone?"

Lifting my clenched hands from where they rested, I unfurled my fingers rhythmically to help the blood flow as I turned my watery eyes toward the ceiling. "Why, why, why?" A loud thwack resounded around the room as I slammed my palm into the wall.

The door creaked open moments later and Alice's head peaked around the obstruction, tentatively, as she yawned and blinked the sleep from her eyes. Her gaze softened as she, once more, took in my state and shuffled inside to sit on the edge of the tub. Her fingers ran through my hair, carefully working the tangles out before she handed me the loofah and body wash. Mechanically, I began scrubbing myself as Alice hummed softly, massaging my scalp with short, firm strokes. We worked together quietly, for which I was grateful, until the water began to chill and Alice disappeared momentarily to retrieve one of the thick, cotton towels from the linen closet. It didn't take long for me to get out of the tub while Alice busied herself with picking the soiled laundry up from the floor and depositing it in the hamper.

Even knowing that she was just trying to help, an aggravated sigh fell from my lips as I watched her. "You should go home, Alice," I muttered as she straightened up, a frown marring her features. "I'll be … you shouldn't have to worry about me when you … when …" A fresh round of sobs wracked my body before I could finish the sentence and I clutched the towel to my chest tightly. Despite my words and my overall lack of desire for company, I felt Alice as she approached, her eyes wary, before embracing me in her deceptively strong grip. Though I knew that the gesture was meant for comfort and appreciated it for what it was, hers weren't the arms that I wanted around me, holding me, consoling me.

"If that's what you want," she whispered back as she stepped away, lingering for a beat before exiting the room.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

I sat up suddenly as my head snapped toward the direction of the living room, head tilted to the side in an attempt to discern any other sounds or movements in the house. Hearing and sensing nothing, I clambered off the bed gracelessly while my breathing sped up and tears clouded my vision. "Alice?" I questioned without turning to look at my mother, worried that I'd offended my one close friend here and glad for the distraction. "Is she … did she leave?"

The bed squeaked in protest as Renee rose from where she'd been perched to stand beside me, her finger settling beneath my chin as she lifted my head. "She's out front, on the porch, dealing with the other visitors that have come by."

Relieved, I rubbed my face roughly, hesitating before making my way out of the room.

When I think back
On these times
And the dreams
We left behind
I'll be glad 'cause
I was blessed to get
To have you in my life
When I look back
On these days
I'll look and see your face
You were right there for me

Faith Hill, There You'll Be

Even though, to some extent, every military wife recognized and understood that this could happen, I'd never thought it would happen to me. As I sat in the funeral parlor, my parents on one side and my in-laws on the other, all I could do was sob quietly. My hands were clenched beneath the table as I listened to the conversations going on around me. I knew that Edward had taken care of all the details beforehand and that he'd been prepared for this possibility but I'd ignored it at the time, insisted that it wouldn't happen to him and that he had nothing to worry about or plan for. I could still hear his voice in my head, the words that he'd reiterated over and over again that night as we argued. "It's just a precaution," he'd stated vehemently as I'd moved around the kitchen, slamming drawers and cabinet doors. "It needed to be done, just in case something happens but, I promise you, I won't let it; I'll be safe." He'd wrapped his arms around me then, holding me close with my back against his chest, telling me that he loved me and that nothing would ever take him away from me.

The voices droned on around me, the sounds muffled and distorted, as images flashed through my mind like a film reel on fast forward. My breaths fell in harsh, heavy pants; it felt like something was crushing my chest. The room felt too small, too stifling as I fought to steady my breathing. I needed air. Standing suddenly, I shuffled backward, knocking my chair over as I stumbled toward the door with a quick, mumbled excuse me before rushing out. My vision was obscured by the tears that fell, continuously, down my face as fingers tightened in my hair. I caught sight of the startled desk clerk as I ran through the showroom. Once my feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot, I inhaled deeply – greedily – before bending over at the waist beside the SUV that my in-laws had rented. I couldn't stop myself from dry heaving – coughing and choking on the bile that rose in my throat before spitting onto the perfectly manicured lawn.

What felt like hours later, but really couldn't have been more than a few minutes, I felt a cool hand brushing the hair from my face. Startled, I jerked to a standing position and turned around. I wasn't surprised that anyone had followed me out to check on me, making sure that I was okay. While I knew, logically, that they understood I wasn't, I couldn't help the surge of anger that coursed through my veins every time they'd ask. I was far from okay and couldn't foresee ever feeling as if my life made sense again. My entire world had been altered with only a few short words; everything that I'd known and everything that I'd planned for was gone and in its place was nothing but heartache so deep and debilitating that it hurt just to breathe. Things that had once been simple had become a struggle. I couldn't eat, I barely slept and I could barely function coherently.

Meeting the gaze of the woman that had become like a second mother to me in all the years that I'd known her, I collapsed into her arms and clung to her with an unrelenting grip.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Has she been able to keep anything down?" The soft, melodic voice asked from the direction of the kitchen that I'd just exited moments prior. I was curled up on the bathroom floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I leaned over the toilet. I'd barely managed to get my hair up into a messy bun before all my stomach's contents were expelled, forcefully. My fingers clutched at the heavy fabric that covered my upper body as I continued to retch, gagging at the smell and taste.

"No," another voice, one that I recognized as my mother's, responded just as quietly. "She hasn't been sleeping well, either. I don't know what to do, how to make this better. They were together for so long that … I'm afraid it'll always be like this." A soft sigh followed the words as I listened to the light footfalls that approached the bathroom.

"Oh, Bella," Esme breathed into the top of my head as she embraced me from behind, the warmth not unwelcome but a stark contrast to the constant chill that had permeated my very core for the past few days. I could feel her body convulsing against mine, wracked with tearless sobs over our shared pain.

We sat there together, on the cold tile, for an innumerable amount of time. Hushed, indecipherable whispers fell from my raw throat as I rocked back and forth unsteadily, my nose buried in the starched jacket that hung around me. It'd been dry cleaned since Edward had worn it last but I could still smell the faint scent of him that clung to navy blue material, invading my senses and eliciting more tears.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The car was mostly silent as we drove, Charlie at the wheel and Carlisle beside him while I sat in the back seat with the side of my face pressed to the cool window. I could vaguely make out the whispered conversation taking place beside me, between Esme and my mother, but I tuned them out, choosing to instead focus on the passing scenery. There wasn't much to look at, if I was being honest, but it was infinitely better than listening to them going over the plans for the day and the memorial and funeral service that would be following soon after. The cookie-cutter houses that made up post housing was bland but the families that I would see, going about their daily routines, were distracting enough to keep me from breaking down. Again. It was like a double-edged sword, though. While watching these happy families created the diversion my exhausted mind needed, it also forcibly reminded me of what it was that I'd lost.

Minutes later, as we pulled into the driveway, my tired eyes landed on the front porch, widening at the sight that I was met with. Floral arrangements and hand decorated signs and cards covered the steps and deck, leaving only a narrow pathway for foot traffic. When we'd left two hours prior, I'd been too exhausted to take notice of everything around me as Charlie practically carried me out the door and into the awaiting vehicle. Seeing these things for the first time, a fresh round of tears pooled before spilling down my face as I opened the door and climbed down, teetering unsteadily on my feet. I swallowed as my fingers tangled themselves into the hem of my shirt while I fought to keep the sobs at bay until I could get inside and fall apart behind closed doors. My steps were slow, measured, as I dropped my gaze to the ground beneath my feet.

All at once, memories of our wedding ceremony came rushing back. Esme and Renee hadn't spared any expenses, despite their earlier reluctance over us tying the knot so quickly after graduating from high school. Flowers of every possible variety decorated the lower floor of the Cullen home, much like they decorated the porch now. I inhaled sharply and, as the scents hit me, my knees buckled, sending me crashing to the ground. I tore my hand away from the hem of my shirt, forcefully, and pressed my palm into my chest. Hard. With every blink, all I could see was Edward on our wedding day, looking the picture of perfection and dressed to the nines in his dress uniform as he stood at the altar waiting. For me. The smile on his face had been radiant and, as Charlie walked me down the aisle – proudly even though he wouldn't have admitted to it – all I wanted to do was break away, run into Edward's arms and never let him go. My breathing was labored and shallow and I squeezed my eyes closed, battling my subconscious as visions of him danced behind my eyelids.

Edward taking my hand in his as we reached the end of the aisle; Edward mouthing 'I love you' to me as we stared at each other in front of our friends and families; Edward as he rushed through the vows, eyes gleaming as we declared our 'I Do's' without hesitation; Edward leaning forward as one hand moved around my waist to rest on the small of my back, his mouth meeting mine with so much love and passion and need that it left me staggered and breathless.

Edward. Edward. Edward.

Distractedly, my brain registered a sharp pain in my hand before everything lurched, shifted, and I felt myself being lifted from the ground and carried. I gasped for breath, sobbing uncontrollably, as we moved slowly up the steps and into the house. Even with my eyes shut tight I knew, instinctively, that it was my father's arms that held and tried to comfort me.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

I'd just woken up from another nightmare – breathless and sweaty as I struggled to take in air – the result of my imagination fabricating scenario after scenario of what had happened over there, thousands of miles away from where Edward should have been. The images were gruesome and frightening, each one worse than the last. Turning my head into the pillow, I let the tears fall from my eyes as I whimpered quietly. My legs kicked out, tangled in the blankets that had bunched up around my feet when I heard the creaking of the floorboards from the bottom of the bed. Sitting up quickly, my hand flew to my mouth, a startled scream escaping as I caught sight of the shadowy figure standing there. With heavy arms, I turned, reached for the lamp on the nightstand and flicked the switch on.

"Daddy," I rasped out as I met my father's gaze, my voice hoarse from disuse and crying. His face was creased with worry and pain as he gave me a small, sad smile. I knew he was hurting, too; that losing Edward for him was much like losing the son that he'd never had but always wanted. Shifting a little to the side, I patted the mattress softly beside me, imploring him to join me. We'd never had the typical father-daughter relationship, both being quiet, largely unemotional individuals, but I needed him now. I needed to feel like he could protect me from anything, everything, like I once had.

Without a word, he joined me in the bed, his legs stretched out as he tried to get comfortable. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I stared out the window across the room from us as I sniffled and hiccoughed. My throat was thick with tears as the fears that I'd managed to keep buried at the back of my mind for years pushed their way out. Every ragged inhale and stuttered exhale deepened the ache in my chest, in my ribs – in my entire body – and I curled up into a ball while my shoulders shook.

"Sometimes," I started after a moment, my breathing still ragged and shallow. "It just doesn't feel real." I swallowed thickly as I let that statement sink in, blinking rapidly against the watery haze. "I don't want it to be real … I don't want to believe that he's gone." An agonized sound escaped my chest as soon as the words were out and I clenched my eyes closed, my body shaking. Snarled tendrils of hair clung to my wet, sweat-slicked face and I brushed them away roughly, not caring about the way my nails dug into the skin a little too roughly with the action. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional torment that I felt.

Before I could say anything else, I felt my father's arms around my shoulder, tugging me closer as his hand ran up and down the expanse of my back. The quiet comfort and protectiveness he exuded with that simple act quelled the tremors minutely as my body lost its rigid and tense pose, relaxing into his embrace. My fingers moved, releasing the grip they had on the sheet beneath me as I grasped his free hand tightly within my own, begging wordlessly for him to make everything better like he used to. I knew, though, that it wasn't as simple this time. There wasn't a band-aid in the world that was big enough to cover the wound, to take away the pain.

"I just want him back," I whispered, choking on the last word as I buried my face into his chest. Flash after flash of the most horrific scenes flickered in my head as I tried, relentlessly, to fight them back. It was no use, though. Every war movie I'd ever seen and every news story that I'd ever heard about what was happening over there only fueled my visions as I shook and shuddered as my heart clenched painfully, a constant reminder of everything that I would never have again."I … want … him … back!"

Every breath I took was frantic, desperate, as I clung to my father, sobbing and gasping into the soft flannel of his shirt. No words were spoken for a long time as I continued to cry and plead, wanting nothing more than for him to just fix this, fix me.

"Bells," the single word was a reminder of a completely different lifetime, one where I could rely on my father to do just what I was begging him to do and the tears fell faster, harder, impossible to stop. "I wish it were that easy, that I could bring him back for you because I would … in a heartbeat." Charlie's voice was gruff, rough with emotion as we both sat in my bed – the bed that I'd shared with Edward for years – and cried.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The shrill ringing in my ears caused me to cringe as I sat up suddenly, my arms wrapped around my head in an attempt at just getting the noise to … stop. My head was ducked down into the space between my knees and my chest as I rocked back and forth. I could feel people around me, all fluttering hands and worried voices as they talked, attempted to soothe; to comfort.

Nothing worked. All I could focus on were the images that assaulted me, one after another.

It was gunshots and explosions.

It was yelling and screams of utter terror.

It was my worst nightmare.

The visions were interspersed with a happier time, making the pain all that much more tangible as I curled up tighter and shook against the wails and heavy, harsh pants that fell from my mouth. Lurching forward, I stood up shakily as my eyes darted around the room, keeping pace with my frenetic, pounding pulse. I was met with looks of horror on tear-stained faces, outstretched hands reaching as fingers fluttered, uncertain.

"It's not fair," I seethed, clenching my hand at my side. "Why did it have to be him? Why?" I could feel my anger losing steam, giving way to the questions that haunted me, questions that I tried to keep inside. Did it hurt? Did he suffer? And, just like that, the anger and bitterness dissipated leaving nothing but anguish as I pitched forward, stumbling into the first warm body that my own came in contact with. "He was supposed to come home," I whispered, releasing broken sobs alongside the words.

Then they handed her a folded up flag
and she held on to all she had left of him
Oh, and what could have been
and then the guns rang one last shot
And it felt like a bullet in her heart

Carrie Underwood, Just a Dream

I was numb and detached as I watched the Honor Guards carry in the casket, their faces somber at the thought of having to bury one of their own. I'd gotten angry and destroyed my – our – home; I'd cried myself hoarse, foregoing sleep and sustenance because it felt almost cruel to give in to such a luxury; I'd begged, pleaded and bargained with anyone – everyone – to just bring him back to me – with me – where he belonged and, now, I was exhausted. Utterly spent. The energy that I'd needed to make it through this day was gone and I couldn't find it in me to care like I should have. I wanted – needed – to feel the pain.

Edward had been my world. It had been a foregone conclusion to everyone around us from the beginning that we'd end up together. It made sense. We'd been best friends, almost literally, since birth. We surpassed the normal girls have cooties stage that every other boy our age went through as if it hadn't existed because, for us, it didn't. Edward had been the first boy that I'd developed a crush on before all the other girls even began to notice him. He'd been my first kiss and my first date; the first – and only – boy that I'd ever fallen in love with. My first everything and, now, he was gone; ripped away from me when we should have been planning the rest of our lives together.

He is gone.

I felt my heart clench at the thought as a stuttered gasp caught in my throat before I batted it back and forced my expression into one of practiced calm. My entire being was stiff as I sat in the straight-backed chair, fingers wrung tightly together and trying not to think anymore. I knew the minister was speaking but, as my glaze flickered toward his mouth and my eyebrows furrowed together in concentration before I turned away, I realized that I didn't care. His words meant nothing to me; they were just a monotonous drone of phrases designed to comfort the grieving. It didn't work, just like everything else. So, I blocked it out. My eyes were locked on the casket in front of me, tracing the lines of the fifty stars that adorned the red, white and blue flag draped over it. My mother sat on my left and her palm radiated heat as it rested on my forearm in a gesture meant to keep me calm while Esme sat on my right. The hand nearest to me alternated between gripping my thigh and covering her face with the handkerchief that Carlisle had offered her at the start of the services.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Pallid and sickly, that was the only way to describe my appearance as I looked in the mirror, mentally cataloging the drastic change in appearance that I'd suffered over the past week and a half. It made my stomach roll and heave uncomfortably, the scant contents that it held – that my mother and Esme had coerced me into consuming – threatening revolt while I stared, in disgust, at my reflection. I'd worried myself into a frenzy the night before, coming up with every conceivable reason why I just couldn't leave the house today.

I don't have anything to wear.

I still need to pack.

What if someone calls while we're out?

Though it went unsaid, everyone understood exactly what I meant – what it was that I was alluding to. Some part of me was still in denial, still holding out hope that this wasn't really happening. My brain simply refused to accept the fact that he was gone – that Edward was gone – and that he wouldn't be coming home to me this time. We'd survived deployment after deployment together, our relationship all the stronger for it once those endless days and nights were put behind us at the end of the eighteen month separation.

A ragged breath escaped my mouth as I looked down at the spotless porcelain sink, my eyes clamped shut to stave off the tears. Alice had made sure my make-up was immaculate, despite my insistence that it wasn't necessary. After a few moments, I opened my eyes again and brushed my hands down the front of the modest black dress that I wore. I hated it. It was just another in a long line of definitive signs that pointed toward the fact that, from here on out, the life I'd had was no more. The dreams that I – that we – had wanted to achieve had fallen to the wayside.

I was burying my husband today and no amount of stalling or denying it would change that.

Inhaling deeply, I swallowed back the sobs and opened the bathroom door. I could hear the faint murmurs of my family, their voices coming from the direction of the living room, as I moved down the hall. My hand was braced on the wall and with each step I was forced to stifle another whimper. It took longer than it should have to reach the front room where everyone had convened. My gaze flickered about as I took in the sight before me. My mother and mother-in-law were dressed similar to me, their eyes rimmed with red and swollen from the tears that they'd each shed. Carlisle wore a simple black suit, not unlike the ones that I'd seen Edward in on a few occasions. My father, however, donned his police uniform and the sight of it nearly brought me to my knees as I clamped my free hand over my mouth choking on the bile that had sealed off my throat. I'd expected it, been informed countless times over the past few days what everyone would be wearing, right down to the last, completely insignificant detail.

I thought I'd be able to handle it, seeing Charlie in a uniform that was both entirely different and yet unfailingly similar to Edwards.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

It was the voice of the NCO that broke me from my thoughts as he stood before the rifle party and I turned my head toward them, unable to look away as tears clouded my vision once more. Both of Edward's best friends stood amongst them, clothed in their formal dress as they held their rifles at the ready. I could hear the muffled cries around me, from the women who flanked me and the two that sat just a row behind, their hands resting on both my shoulders in a show of solidarity. As the first shot of the three-volley salute rang out around us, a strangled, gurgling sound burst from my chest, my head shaking back and forth while my hands clawed and gripped at the bare expanse of skin just above my knees.

At the loud, resounding sound of the second shot, I buried my face in my mother's shoulder, desperately gasping for air. My nails pierced the skin of my thighs as I dug deeper, fighting against the swell of pain and panic that had built up in my chest and the urge to flee – to just stand up and get away from this place and these people. My teeth bit into the flesh of my lower lip and I relished in the momentary flash of pain. I could feel my heart beat, the erratic pulsing as it thudded against my chest as the final shot rang out, followed shortly after by a loud, authoritative present arms and the beginning strains of Taps.

As the bugler played the melancholy tune, I finally lifted my tear-stained face and watched the flag folding ceremony as it took place right in front of me. The discipline and the synchronicity that these men in uniform displayed as they performed their duties, treating the colored cloth that represented our country – our freedom – as if it were a priceless artifact was beautiful and achingly heartbreaking at the same time. Their poses were rigid, though not uncomfortable, and I focused on their precise, practiced and measured movements as my mind took me back to another time, another place, a different Army post in a different state. We'd been younger then, new to the realities that the life Edward had chosen had to offer us as we sat outside of our first home together, listening to this same tune that as the flag was lowered from its perch high above the surrounding buildings.

Everything transformed after that.

Brief flashes of the day that Edward had proposed to me morphed into the day that he'd left for basic combat training, his arms wrapped around me as I cried into his shoulder. Before that, the longest we'd been separated was a week so nine weeks felt like a lifetime, an unreasonable request for anyone – even if it was the government – to ask of me. Still, even though it wasn't without tears, we'd survived it.

It was with that same knowledge that we'd made it through Edwards Advanced Individual Training immediately following basic and, eventually, every tour that he'd been sent on overseas.

Except this one.

A light pressure on my knee caused me to start as I turned my head, rested my cheek on the now wet shoulder of Renee's dress. Exhaling a slow, stuttered breath, I sat up straight, shoulders back and posture tense as I met the gaze of the soldier that kneeled before me, the blue and white and stars of the flag visible against his chest. I could feel the tears running down my face at the sight and I bit the inside of my cheek, containing the distressed cries that demanded an outlet. I watched as the man's lips moved, offering the same condolences and sentiments of gratitude that I'd heard repeatedly throughout the day. I knew, logically, that their hearts were in the right place and their intentions were well-meaning but their platitudes meant little.

They wouldn't bring Edward back.

Still, I nodded and accepted the folded triangle, cradling against my heart as I ducked my head down and cried.

The funeral ended shortly thereafter but I'd all but tuned everything out, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. As the crowd of mourners dispersed, I remained in my seat, waiting. I knew that my parents and his parents weren't far away, just a few rows behind, presenting some kind of united front while I refused to move, my gaze flickering back and forth between the rose covered casket and the large framed picture that stood beside it. Finally, slowly, I lifted myself from the seat, wobbling on unsteady and tired legs, before moving forward. Short, gasping breaths fell from my mouth in a broken rhythm as each step brought me physically closer to Edward, the closest I'd ever be able to get after today. Pausing in front of the image that had been captured years ago, at his graduation from basic training, I let my fingers trace his face before my hand fell and rested atop the box that held his remains. Silent tears streaked my face as I inhaled deeply and allowed the air to trickle back out in increments.

"You promised," I breathed out, my words a broken whisper and final plea. "I can't do this without you."

Beta note: Okay, I normally never, ever do this, but this time, I'm going to. A beta-note.

I wanted to take a moment to thank those who serve their country - not only those who are actively in the military in some form, but also their family members who are left behind to wait for them, who support them, and who don't always get their loved ones back.

Thank you for the sacrifice you give daily, for the service you provide, and the support you give. Even if we don't always tell you, you are appreciated and valued.

If you've made it to the end of this story, no doubt you have had a hard time reading; I know I've cried more than once as I helped stolenxsanity along the way. Please know that, as difficult as this was for you to read, it was much more so for her to write. A lot of personal and true emotion has gone into this fic, and though the experiences portrayed here are not the same, they are still lived daily.

I ask that you will treat this story - and its author - with all the respect that is due and that you will go by the old adage of "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

That said, please leave your review; I know it will be appreciated. Thank you for reading.

- naelany

Lacrimosa (fem): In Latin, this means to weep or weeping. Eng. Lachrymose

Officer: This refers to the CACO (or Casualty Notification Officer) whose job it is to inform the next-of-kin of when a loved one is killed in action.

Staff Sergeant: The rank of a non-commissioned officer (NCO) used in several countries.

Dress Uniform: This is the most formal military uniform, typically worn at ceremonies, official receptions, and other special occasions; with order insignias and full size medals.

Honor Guard: An honor guard, or ceremonial guard, is a ceremonial unit, usually military in nature and composed of volunteers who are carefully screened for their physical ability and dexterity.

A primary role for honor guards in the United States and some other countries is to provide funeral honors for fallen comrades and to guard national monuments.

Side Note: Active-duty deaths or anyone deserving of a Full Honors ceremony will receive a ceremony performed by twenty guardsmen; consisting of six pallbearers, seven firing party members, four color guardsmen, one bugler, one non-commissioned officer (NCO) in charge of the firing party, and one officer in charge of the detail.

3-Volley Salute: The 3-volley salute is a ceremonial act performed at military and police funerals as part of the drill and ceremony of the Honor Guard. It consists of a rifle party firing blank cartridges into the air three times. The three-volley salute is not to be confused with the 21-gun salute.

Taps: Taps is a famous musical piece, sounded by the U.S. military during flag ceremonies and funerals, generally on bugle or trumpet and concludes many military funerals conducted with honors. The tune is also sounded at many memorial services in Arlington's Memorial Amphitheater and at gravesites throughout the cemetery.

When Taps is sounded at a funeral, it is customary for serving members of the military or veterans to salute. The corresponding gesture for civilians is to place the right hand over the heart.

The playing of Taps is performed by a lone bugler or an audio recording, at a distance 30 to 50 yards from the grave site while a "Final Salute" is given.

Flag Folding Ceremony: The flag of the United States will be folded by honor guards and then presented to the next-of-kin by saying with a statement expressing gratitude that varies by branch. Generally, the flag is given to the next-of-kin as a keepsake after its use during the military funeral service.

Basic Combat Training (BCT): United States Army Basic Training (also known as Initial Entry Training or IET) is a rigorous program of physical and mental training required in order for an individual to become a soldier in the United States Army, United States Army Reserve, or Army National Guard.

Advanced Individual Training (AIT): Advanced Individual Training (AIT), consists of the remainder of the total Basic Training period. It is where recruits train to eventually become experts in their chosen field, and it is therefore different for each available Army career path. Such AIT courses last from 6 to 52 weeks.