AN: This is something I wrote for a contest, but the contest was canceled and I just now finally bothered to finish the one-shot. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. Thanks to IsabellaMarieCullen3 for beta'ing this baby and giving the courage to actually post it.

Summary: The power death holds over us can be a crushing weight like the currents of water that drag you to the sea bed. A hitchhiker running from his past, a waitress who has her own scars. Will he just pass through or will she give him a reason to stay? ExB

The Kind Of Pain That Heals.

I could feel the sun beating down on me, snaking through my threadbare wife-beater and burning me as I trudged slowly down the road, my feet dragging along the road with each step. The baseball cap on my head did little next to nothing about keeping the sun out of my eyes, so I kept my head down with my shoulders hunched in. I dropped my duffel bag in the sand next to the road and stretched my sore muscles. Fuck! Why did I decide to do this again?

Oh yeah, because I had been about an inch away from killing myself back home. Ever since that...accident...my life had become a cycle of hospital visits, therapy, and medication. I hated the numb feeling it gave as I watched everyone shoot me worried, pitied looks every time I moved.

I had been suffocated and coddled amidst the people who used to be proud and respected me. The blow to my pride meant nothing to me, but the insistent, nagging of my family, telling me what I should and should not do, had practically sent me over the edge. I was a grown man, not a child, and while I knew that they were only trying to help, I had no choice but to leave everything behind and go find the man I used to be. To try and find that sense of adventure that had gotten me in this mess in the first place.

I had gotten rid of my phone and withdrew a few thousand dollars from the bank. All I left was a note telling them that I was sorry and that I needed time. I hitched a ride from a couple at a gas station and hadn't looked back. Since I was using cash, there was no way that they could track me. I was essentially a free man.

So why did I feel as suffocated as I did back at home?

I glanced back down the road I had been walking on and tried to see past the waves of heat that sat a few inches off the ground. I could see a truck in the distance and a small bit of hope spread through me as I thrust my thumb out hoping that it would stop.

It wasn't often that you saw people on these deserted roads. A few locals, but that was about it.

The truck clanked on by, not bothering to even slow down as it left me standing there in the dust. I sighed and slung my duffel bag back over my shoulder. I wasn't that surprised anymore that no one picked me up. At the beginning of my trip it had been easy, but over the months my appearance had dwindled.

The holes in the knee of my jeans made it look like I was practically wearing shorts and my once white wife-beater had turned into a more gray color. I didn't know the last time I had showered, and my stubble was now long enough to be considered a beard. I looked like I had been sleeping behind an alleyway, which sometimes wasn't that far from the truth.

I rubbed my jaw, feeling the scratchy hair before taking my hat off to run a hand through my sweat soaked hair.

What had once felt like escaping was starting to look like running. I had thought leaving would have helped, but I still had the nightmares that left me sweating and vomiting down the toilet as I sobbed on a motel bathroom floor. The only difference was that now, there was no one there with me. I was alone, and it was my own fault.

Every time I thought about returning home, panic would set in until I could barely breath anymore, so I just kept on going. No destination, no reason to stop, just miles and miles of road ahead of me; just waiting for my feet to drag over them.

I had left everything behind, only bringing clothes and money with me. The only real, tangible thing I had of, what I now called my old life, was the metal hanging around my neck and burning through my chest, into my heart.

As much as I loathed what it had ultimately done to me, I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. It kept me grounded every morning when I felt like giving up. Just seeing my name printed in the metal kept me going, kept me from giving up and right now, that was all I needed.

BPOV.

The power death holds over us can be a crushing weight...

Snap

Pop

Flinch

...like the currents of water that drag you to the sea bed...

Snap

Pop

Flinch

"Will you stop that irritating noise?" I snapped, looking over my laptop at Jessica who was popping gum. She shrugged and shot me a look, "Stop being so grouchy, it's not like you've actually done much today. I'm telling you, you seriously need to get laid."

I made a noise akin to a growl and thought about hurling my laptop at her fat head. Instead I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; getting angry wasn't going to help anything but my need to inflict pain on something. "I do not need to get laid. I am perfectly fine the way I am now."

Jessica snorted and patted my hand before moving towards the back where her husband, Mike, the cook was in the kitchen. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Pummeling you face," I muttered under my breath, "that would make me sleep like a baby."

The bell over the door chimed and I looked up to see where Jessica was, hoping that she would take this customer, but I couldn't see her anywhere. Fuck my life! I let out a harsh breath through my nose and closed my laptop, grabbing my half apron and notepad I fixed a smile to my face and turned round to face the customer.

If this one grabs my ass I will deck him. I thought sourly as I scanned the diner for whatever truck driver or asshole that had decided to visit this lovely establishment. Sitting in the very back corner was a man, slouched down with cap low over his face, covering his eyes. Three words come to mind: shady, suspicious, strange.

I sighed, hoping it wasn't one of those yahoo's who was going to pull a gun out and try to rob the place. There really wasn't much to take, maybe a hundred dollars if you were lucky.

I walked purposefully towards him all the while keeping the overly bright smile on my face.

"Hi, my name is Bella, and I'm going to be your waitress today. What can I get you?" I held the notebook up with the pen poised ready to take his order. He looked up at me slowly and pulled the cap off his head before running his slightly trembling fingers through his messy, damp locks.

Stubble covered, his jaw was almost long enough to be called a beard and the purple bags under his eyes told me that he probably hadn't slept well in a long time. He looked like he needed a good scrub and a shave because if you looked real close you could see that under all the hair there was good bone structure that shouldn't be hidden away.

But it wasn't his beard that really got my attention-I still thought he should shave it off though-it was his eyes. They were a dull green, filled with pain and emptiness. It hurt just to look at him and my heart squeezed together painfully at a reminder of when I had last seen eyes like that and I tried to breathe normally through it all.

"What would you recommend?" His voice, which you would have thought would be as rough as the rest of him, was soft and gentle. It warmed me slightly and I pulled myself out of the weird funk I had just fallen into.

"Umm...the pancakes are pretty good," I muttered stupidly and ran a hand through my hair as I berated myself mentally. He nodded, "Okay, could I have a coffee with that?" I nodded and scribbled down his order. "Anything else?" I asked suddenly wanting to escape this tense bubble that seemed to be surrounding us.

He hesitated for a second before asking, "Is there a restroom around here?" I nodded and pointed him towards the back.

"Through there, on your right."

He thanked me quietly before standing up so that he towered over me. Now, I would like to say that I am not that small compared to some women. I am a healthy 5'7, but this guy...well he must have been 6'4 at least. It was then that I noticed his body. Firm, broad shoulders with a lean, muscular chest. He had a body of a man who worked out without overly doing so.

I noticed the chain around his neck glint in the light and I had to hide my shock at the dog tags hanging there. It wasn't often that you got a soldier from the army in these parts that wasn't local. He must be a hitchhiker or something as there was no car out front.

While I was busy staring at him, he had grabbed the duffel bag that he had placed next to him-confirming my hitchhiker guess- and walked past me, giving me a nice view of his ass.

Maybe I did need to get laid.

#0#0#0#0#

I watched him studiously all afternoon as he sat in the booth, either drinking coffee or reading. I didn't know if he was waiting for someone or if he just didn't have anywhere to go. If he was looking for a ride out of here then he would be waiting a long time. Not many people passed through here and the rest of us never really left. Why leave when you had everything you needed nearby?

I peered over at him from under my arm as I cleaned a tables nearby. He held a book in his hand-it was tilted down so I couldn't read the cover-but his attention wasn't on it. He was staring out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes, like he wasn't really here. I could see that deep rooted pain still in his eyes and I really felt for him.

I knew a bit of what pain could do to you.

Only extensive and fierce therapy had managed to get me through all my problems after my heart transplant. I felt a small pang in my chest at the remembrance of that dark time and I rubbed the spot unconsciously, thanking God that I was still here today. I shook my head, dispelling any and all thoughts that revolved around my operation and moved to where he was sitting.

"Hey," I said in a quiet, gentle voice. His head snapped up and he looked over at me, questions mingling with the pain in his eyes.

"I'm not sure how long you plan to stay here, but I can give you a lift into town if you like. My mum runs a small bed and breakfast there. It's not much, but it's a good place to rest your head for the night." His lip twitched upwards slightly like he had entertained the idea of smiling before discarding it. "I would like that," he murmured.

I smiled, "Okay, I just need to put this stuff away and clock out. Why don't you meet me out front? My truck's the red one that looks like its on its last legs." He nodded absently and I hurried round the back to grab my stuff.

Normally I wouldn't even think about offering a strange man a ride, especially one so big and broken, for all I knew he could be a loose canon out for blood, but there was something about him that reached out to me and I couldn't help but reach back.

#0#0#0#0#

We all sat around the table in silence. There was my mother and her husband Phil, there was me, Edward and an elderly lady called Maria. The only noise that could be heard was the clanking of silverware against plates.

"So, Edward...tell us a little about yourself." Edward froze, his fork inches from his mouth before quickly collecting himself and putting his fork back down.

"I'm originally from Washington State, but have been doing some traveling for a few months now. I plan to go to all the states." My mother clasped her hands together and sighed longingly as her eyes danced in awe. "That sounds amazing. I've always wanted to travel, but I never had the money for it. Is there a specific reason you decided to travel now?"

Edward shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable, and coughed, "Well, I had life put into a different prospective and I realized that we have to grasp life while we still have it. I wanted to see something beyond the pictures in books." She nodded, absorbing all that he said, but I found that there was something slightly off about his story.

Why hadn't he mentioned the fact that he was in the army, or what caused him to change? It had to have something to do with the deep rooted pain in his eyes, I was sure. His eyes met mine across the table briefly before he looked away and I knew that I was right. There was something there, something deep down that he was trying to hide. I could see the walls up around him as he tried to protect himself from whatever it was that he was hiding from.

#0#0#0#0#

EPOV.

A strangled noise of pain left my throat as I was ripped out of my sleep. I shot up so that I was sitting, and tried to breathe through the pounding in my ears. Sweat dripped down my skin and hair, and I could still taste the faint tang of blood in my mouth and the smell of burnt flesh in my nostrils.

I tried so swallow down the bile that had risen in my throat, but it sat just below my throat ready for me to weaken and expel its contents as pain wrecked through my body like a five ton truck. My eyes darted around the unfamiliar room as I tried to get my bearings straight and landed on the woman from the diner, Bella, kneeling beside me with wide eyes.

She looked scared and I closed my eyes and swallowed heavily, pushing through my discomfort in an effort to not completely freak her out.

What she was doing in this room was unknown to me and my shaking hands scrambled along the bedside table looking for my pills. I would ask once I had some sort of semblance of control over my body.

Her fingers connected with mine and I opened my eyes to see her holding my pills. She offered them to me silently and I swallowed two without even bothering to get water. My fists clenched the sheets between my fingers tightly as the panic and agony subsided slowly, releasing me from their hold.

"Are you okay?" she asked timidly.

My eyes shot to her and I forced myself to remain calm. "Yeah," I whispered hoarsely.

She bit her lip and nodded before her eyes dropped from my face to my chest and she let out a horrified gasp. I fought against the instinct to pull the sheets up and over my chest so that she couldn't see my scarred, mutilated skin.

Please don't ask how it happened, please don't ask how it happened, please don't ask how it happened.

"What happened?" She asked and I closed my eyes in defeat. Tremors shook through my body as I repressed the memories, the faces of bloodied friends and comrades flashing minutely through my brain before I shoved them into the deepest recesses of my mind.

I felt something soft and warm connect with my chest and I let out a shaky breath as I looked down to see her hand tracing the scar over my heart. I wanted to snap at her, force some of the anger that sat deep inside me at her, but I was simply too exhausted to even try lashing out. I was at most vulnerable and I hated that feeling.

"D-don't..." I gripped her hand in mine, trying to form a coherent sentence. She immediately tried to withdraw her hand, a small blush causing her cheeks to pink. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you," she whispered, embarrassment and caution in her tone. Her eyes darted away from me and I suspected she wanted to leave, but my fingers wouldn't cooperate with that fact, if anything they simply tightened their hold on her hand that now rested flat against my chest.

I briefly wondered if she could feel my heart beating under her hand as it lay there, connecting us, transporting the tension from one to another.

Her lips parted and she stared into my eyes, searching them for something I was almost certain she wouldn't find. Sometimes I even wondered if there was even a drop of humanity left inside of me. All the war and death that I had seen had desensitized me to any and all positive emotions and thoughts.

Even the words that flowed out of my mouth held a bitter edge as it begged me for silence. Silence from my mind, from the screams of pain and anguish that echoed throughout my brain. From the clink of metal against metal as it swung loosely around my neck. But there was no escape from it, no peace found in reach of my fingers.

So I merely numbed myself with medication, wishing that I could escape my own mind. But even then it had been impossible to ignore the reminders that stared right at me...so I left.

My hand slid off hers as I retreated back into myself, not wishing to place any of my pain and guilt on someone else shoulders. I shouldn't have survived it, I shouldn't have had to watch them all die around while I waited for the day that I just gave up and succumbed to the pain.

I had expected her to withdraw from me as I closed myself off, but instead she shifted her hand to the flesh warmed metal.

"Sgt. Masen A. Edward...It happened in the army, didn't it?"

I admired her persistence in talking and touching someone who was virtually a complete stranger to her, someone who for all she knew, was some sort of loose cannon.

I nodded and she dropped them making the metal clink together. To any other it would just be a small, maybe irritating noise, but to me it was like the grinding of the brakes of the train against the track. Sparks flying everywhere with no regard for where they fell as it ground together, forcing itself to mesh and connect until there was nothing left.

She stroked a hand across my face, along the scratchy surface of my almost beard before running her fingers through the thick locks of hair on my head, her nails scratching my scalp.

"I see so much pain...so much hurt in your eyes. I can feel your heart bleeding inside. Tell me what happened to you to make you like this...please."

I felt like an explosion had gone off in my chest at her words. It was like my heart exploded into a million separate pieces. The pain was almost unbearable and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't relive what she wanted me to. I shook my head frantically, not caring that tears were starting to spill down my cheeks.

"I-I-I...can't" I choked out and drew my knees up to my chest. She shook her head slowly, a look of sympathy on her face. "You're so young," she whispered and I looked away from her and clenched my teeth together. I wiped away the tears and looked back at her, anger replacing pain. "Do not pity me." I spat angrily. She continued to shake her head.

"I no more pity you, than I pity myself." She reached up to the top of her tank top and drew the front of it down to reveal the scar just above her breast. It was faint, almost invisible, but still there if you looked close enough. It curved along her skin, so pale and fleeting, yet so tangibly connected to her heart.

"I used to think that I wasn't whole, that I was half a person because I couldn't carry my own heart. It was too weak to keep me alive. But now I realize that God gave me another chance at living, not just a half life, but a whole one. I don't take it for granted anymore."

To say I was shocked would have been a vast understatement. It wasn't everyday that you met someone who had gone through what she had; who was so willing to give out their story without so much as batting an eyelash. I lifted my hand up slowly and traced the scar, intrigued by how soft the skin was.

I looked up into her eyes and she stared back at me, "We all have our scars, Edward. Inside and out, but we have to make sure that we do not become our scars. It's hard and it may always continue to hurt, but don't lose yourself in them."

I'm not sure how what happened next happened. Maybe it was the sudden high tension in the room, or maybe it had been simmering there, waiting for us to dive in head first. I'm not sure, but somehow I found my lips pressed to hers, her legs on either side of me, straddling my body.

The kiss was not slow or gentle. It was hard and full of pain, full of loss, full of tears.

She clung to me tightly, her fingers digging into my scalp as our mouth moved frantically against each other. It hurt to kiss her, to mold my lips against hers caused actual physical pain, but it was different from the pain that had been consuming me for so long, it was a softer, more gentle pain, bearable.

The heat of her body burned deep inside me, eliciting reactions that had laid dormant for a long time. Her breast were pressed flush against me, the nipples hard and aching. I let out a strangled groan and pulled away, my eyes shut firmly as I tried to gather myself. Should I be doing this? Should I say yes or no?

"Don't say no," she whispered in my ear. She threaded her hand through mine, as I opened my eyes, and pressed it to her breast. A shuddering breath left me as I tried to think clearly, but she pulled away and tugged the hem of her top up and yanked it over her head until her top half was bare. Her nipples pebbled and stood erect in front of me, saluting me, beckoning me closer.

Without any consent from the logical part of my brain, I found my lips wrapped round the hardened flesh, my teeth nipping gently at it as she arched further into me with her nails digging into the skin of my scalp.

I hissed and gripped her hips in an almost bruising hold as I pressed her down on me, grinding into her hot center. She let out a noise which was a mix between a moan and a gasp and pushed me back with more force than I knew she was capable of.

She made me lay on my back as her fingers danced and traced over the scars on my chest, each scar reaching lower and lower until they reached the band of my underwear. I looked up at her with scared eyes. I didn't know if I could do this. I had been no where near ready enough to be intimate before and the aching, throbbing pain of my cock told me not to let this past.

I didn't know if I could be gentle with her, to treat her the way that she was meant to be treated. I was raw and needed to grab and to take forcefully, to let the animal inside of me out.

"You don't have to be gentle with me," she whispered, knowing somehow what I was thinking. "Just take what you need from me and I'll do the same." I shook my head, she didn't understand. "I will bleed you dry," I whispered, my voice hoarse and choked up.

She smiled sadly at me, "I won't let you. You don't need to. I'll give you me and in return you'll give me a piece of you. Just a small part."

Trepidation weighed heavily on me. She was so young, so innocent to the bloodthirsty world around her that was ready to rip you apart without the slightest hesitation. I stared into her eyes, searching and begging for something, some doubt, some fear inside of her, but there was nothing, no indicator that she didn't know what she was getting herself into.

I nodded slowly, deciding to take a chance, one that would either make me or break me.

I found her mouth immediately back on mine, licking and biting as her nails dragged down my chest, catching on my nipples. I welcomed the sparks and shivers of pain that she gave me almost as much as she enjoyed it when I pinched and twisted her nipple between my fingers and the way I pulled and yanked on her hair.

Almost without thought our underwear was shed, baring our bodies fully to one another. The evidence of our arousal was apparent for both of us. I could feel the wetness coating me as she shifted her hips against me, and she could feel me hard and ready against her.

She gripped my cock tightly in her small hand, barely able to reach completely around me, as she guided me inside her. Her hair fanned out around us, hiding us from the world like a curtain, and the heat of her center burned against my sensitive skin as she enveloped me in her personal volcano.

Our eyes stayed connected to one another, probing and digging behind carefully constructed walls as brown swirled with green.

My eyes fluttered closed as she sat fully down on me and my hands, that had unconsciously gone back to her hips, dug into her skin, bruising and marking her. We stayed still, not even breathing for one long minute before she rocked her hips against mine. I responded readily, thrusting up into her body. We started a slow, measured pace, but it was quickly discarded as the desperation and pain broke through the surface.

I needed it long, hard and fast.

I rolled us over, somehow keeping our bodies connected and set a pace that met my needs. Her nails went back to shredding my skin, digging into my back as she tried to draw blood from me. It seemed we were each taking what we needed, each trying to find a deeper, more meaningful pain in the other.

There is no way I can aptly describe the coupling of bodies, the pull and push, the heat and want. The way nails and teeth punctured weak skin, the whimpers of agony and pleasure. The frustration, the desperation, the way we clung to one another like a life line. It was need, it was want, it took and it gave willingly, stabbing and digging into our skin. It was fear and anger, tongue and lips, soft and hard. It dragged you down into a deep pit, an abyss, swirling and dancing in the dark.

I clenched my fist in her hair, fisting it as I pulled it forwards, dragging it so that I could meld my mouth harshly against hers. She drew my tongue into her mouth, sucking it as teeth attempted to nip back in retaliation. I was sure someone in the house would have been disturbed by the amount of noise we were making. We did not try and keep quiet as the growls and hisses escaped our mouths.

Everything about what we were doing was raw, hard and animalistic. We gave no reprieve as we drank in each other. Hips thrust, pelvises rubbed and slapped against each other as harsh breaths were expelled into each others mouths. No amount of tears and sweat could hold of the looming sense of death that hid behind the both of us. We had survived and she had healed, but I was reluctant to do the same.

To heal would mean that I would lose that last bit of humanity I clung onto so hard day after day. I would be an empty shell with no feelings or emotions. That wasn't a life, that was an existence.

Lust shrouded us like a cloak of smoke, wrapping us in a scent of sex and freesias, distracting me from anything and everything.

My fingers slipped down damp, soft skin until touched wet heat. I rubbed her clit, forcing her closer to the end. What the end brought was a mystery to me, a paradox of desire and fear. It was enough to confuse even the smartest of men. She grasped my chin in one hand, feeling the prickles of my almost beard dig into her fingers as she clutched at me like a life line.

I ripped my mouth away from hers, feeling blood drip down from where her teeth had teared my lip. I felt like shouting, screaming just to try and get her to understand. My skin prickled and burned wherever she touched me and it hurt and that calmed me. Pain was my vice, my reason for still being here. Without pain there was nothing, just emptiness.

"Edward..." Her mouth formed my name and it snaked down my back like an electric shock. It was a plea, a promise, a command. It taunted me and soothed me at the same time.

My whole body froze unexpectedly and I felt my heart, mind and body explode at the same time. I was blinded by the colors dancing behind my eyelids and pain shot through every vein, every pore in my beaten body. I bellowed in agony as my body ripped itself apart. Dry sobs left my lips as my body shook and wracked. My hands dug into the pillows on either side of her head and I destroyed them easily, tearing them into pieces. I barely registered anything beyond the soft skin and what it gave. My arms shook before giving out, making me lean my whole weight on top of her, covering and sheltering her.

I could feel her heart beating rapidly as I buried my head in her neck. We panted and lay tangled with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around my body, refusing to let me move and for once, I welcomed it.

#0#0#0#0#0#

I stood in front of the mirror, light shining softly through the curtained window. I took a deep breath and raised the razor to my shaving cream covered face. I raked it down my skin in long firm strokes, each giving way to smooth skin. I could see a spark of humanity shining through my eyes and I felt the edge of my mouth twitch up slightly. I felt lighter and freer than I had in months and it was all thanks to the girl still lying in my bed sleeping.

I finished off my face and wiped the residual cream off my face before heading back across the hall and into the room. She looked so serene, otherworldly, as she slept and I didn't have the heart to wake her. I padded silently round the room picking up my stuff and placing it my duffel bag. I cast her one last look as I placed a note on the bedside table and let out a deep breath before slipping out the door and heading downstairs, away from her.

BPOV.

My eyes slowly peeled themselves open and I rolled over onto my stomach and stretched, wincing at the ache in my all my joints. I felt around for the warm body that I knew should me next to me, but only found cold sheets. My eyes darted over to where my hand was and my heart let in my throat as I sat up and searched around the room for him. He couldn't have left me here, he wouldn't have, not after all we had shared yesterday. He would have at least said goodbye.

Maybe he went to the bathroom, I thought trying to rationalize. Traitorous tears filled my eyes and I pushed them back furiously, I was being stupid. I wiped a hand over my face and moved to get out the bed to search for my clothes. It was then that I heard it. A small clink. I froze, not daring to look down and see for certain what I knew would be around my neck.

I lifted a shaking hand and touched the warm, metal dog tags he must have left with me as some sort of goodbye. My fingers traced over his name stamped into it. He had given me a part of himself like he had promised he would. I clutched them tightly in my hand and noticed a small note on the bedside table. I picked it up cautiously and grinned when I saw what was written.

I'm downstairs.

AN: So...what did you think? Did you like ArmyWard? Review and tell me! I'm not sure if I am continuing this or not...we'll see.