Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The road stripe flashed by as the car veered onto the exit ramp. Yellow morning sunshine filled the car and was warm on her bare arms.

Hard to believe that in a matter of hours she’d be under cold rainy skies and bundled up in a jacket and scarf.

Bella blinked and forced her eyes to focus, turning away from the skyline of Phoenix as they descended from the freeway and down into the airport. She would probably be sorry that she had worn short sleeves by this evening, but it was with a wry nod to melodrama that she’d put on her favorite light blouse today in a sort of poetic farewell to the warmth and sun of Arizona—“poetic” in only the broadest sense of the term. This bit of angst could be likened a haiku at best. One that didn’t have the right number of syllables, no less.

Renée had been uncharacteristically quiet this morning. She typically seemed to regard Bella’s usual silence as an empty hole in the air that needed to be filled with as many words as possible. But today, after her usual (excessively) cheerful morning greeting, she’d fallen quiet, not saying much beyond checking to make sure that Bella had remembered to pack everything. That was a funny bit of a role reversal for the woman who had to be reminded to bring her toothbrush on every trip she’d ever taken as far back as Bella could remember.

She needn’t have worried; Bella had been packed for nearly a week. The bulk of her clothes were neatly folded and compressed into the ancient luggage that she’d rescued from Goodwill while she’d lived in the week’s worth of clothes that she’d packed away this morning. The few larger things she’d wanted to keep—mostly books and whatnot—had been shipped ahead and were waiting for her up in Forks. Everything else was staying. Her room would be waiting for her when she came to visit Arizona in the summers from her home in Washington, rather than the other way around.

The wrench she’d felt upon leaving all of her childhood knickknacks had been surprisingly small. Probably because there hadn’t been very many, and most of them were more to Renée’s tastes than her own.

The bright light of morning faded to cool shade as they coasted into the parking garage, Bella looking at the different license plates’ states as they scanned for an open space. They didn’t find one until the fourth level, but it was near the elevator at least.

At last Renée couldn’t stand it anymore; as they got out and started unloading Bella’s luggage, she started talking. “Now, are you sure you have everything, sweetie?” she asked, tugging pointlessly at the zipper pulls and straps and tags on the outside of the bags. “I’m so afraid that you’ve forgotten something and I’ll be out of town when you realize you need it.”

Bella quirked a smile at her. “If I haven’t remembered it by now, it must not be too important, so I wouldn’t worry.” She set her luggage down on its squeaky wheels and pulled out the handle, hefting her duffel bag in her other hand and schooling her face into what she hoped was a sufficiently enthusiastic expression.

Renée smiled back at her; apparently, she’d succeeded. “Oh, don’t mind me—just motherly anxiety, I guess. I know I shouldn’t—you’ve never had any trouble taking care of yourself before.” She turned and headed towards the elevator, listing a little under the weight of the duffel she carried, and Bella trailed along behind her.

“So it turns out that Phil will be in Texas for the next few weeks—which is a bit of a relief, really. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the winter in Nebraska. Can you imagine how cold and wet and awful it would have been that far north?”

Oh, yes. She could. And by this evening she wouldn’t have to imagine—she’d be living it. Bella made the appropriate noise of agreement.

“And it’s that much closer to home, too! If he stays there permanently, then it would be so much easier for me to spend more time in Phoenix, and you could come down more often. Really, I wouldn’t mind just settling there. I can’t abide the cold, and San Antonio is such a lovely town—you’d love it, Bella.”

She had no doubt that she would—but somehow she didn’t think that she’d be going there for any sort of permanent arrangement. It was a strange sensation, being a third wheel to her mother’s romance, but there it was. It was certainly no less disconcerting than the idea of her 36-year-old mother having a 26-year-old husband—which was definitely disconcerting. But it was still well within the bounds of imagination, Bella supposed. Renée had never looked her age. Her naturally golden hair, bright blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin would have been at home on any California beach beauty, and her endless rounds of health food and fitness manias had kept her fit and trim—she could easily pass for thirty, if not younger.

Bella wished she had such a graceful aging to look forward to—but if her father was anything to go by, it wasn’t likely. She was his spit and image: brown-eyed, brown-haired, and pasty-white, with chubby cheeks, round shoulders, and a short waist (only in her case, it was quite literally rounded out by wide hips and far more than her fair share of boobs). She’d probably start going gray early, too—quite fitting for the girl who was actually carded the wrong way when she was ten, accused of being too old when she tried to get into the pool on the kids-under-eleven admission.

But, despite the opinion of Bella and anyone else who looked at her, Renée had clearly been finding signs of her age over the past few years—and she hadn’t taken it well. As such, it really wasn’t too big of a surprise that she’d found a younger man to help her recapture what she saw to be her fading youth. Bella just hoped that she stuck with this craze longer than her typical mania—her short first marriage to Bella’s father included.

Like with any of her new fads, Renée now centered her life around Phil with a single-minded devotion that would do a Trekkie proud. And as usual, it was Bella who stood to the side and did her best to accommodate her as she immersed herself in her latest obsession.

Even if that meant moving across the country.

Phil Dwyer, Renée’s new husband of eight months, was a minor-league baseball player trying to get himself a contract with a team.; He hadn’t managed yet, and as a result was shuttling all over the country playing games and hoping to catch they eye of a talent scout or something (Bella was a bit fuzzy on the details about how baseball leagues worked). That meant that he and Renée really hadn’t spent too much time together since their whirlwind romance and wedding and honeymoon in Baja, and Bella could tell that she was unhappy about it. And so when Phil said that things looked good for him settling in San Antonio—at least for a good three months, if not permanently—and had wanted Renée (and Bella, of course, he’d added graciously) to join him, Bella had seen her mother’s obvious conflict and had made an executive decision.

Renée wanted to travel with Phil. Phil wanted his wife with him. So Bella offered to go live with her dad up in Washington so Renée wouldn’t be tied to Phoenix and could go where she pleased.

Renée wouldn’t hear of it at first. At least she put up a good front of pretending not to approve of the arrangement. But it didn’t take long for her to start mentioning the idea now and again, pondering out loud that it wouldn’t be permanent, that it would just be until she and Phil got settled somewhere new, and then Bella could join them—it would be like a big extended vacation, really—and you know how happy your father would be to have you, honey—

Bella suggested the idea in early September. It was official at the end of October.

Renée had been in a tizzy. She was clearly excited over the prospect of traveling cross-country with Phil but guilty over sending Bella up to Forks. Renée hated Forks, and so sending anyone there was tantamount to a prison sentence as far as she was concerned. But Bella had patiently insisted that she wanted to go (she didn’t), and that Forks really wasn’t so bad (it was), and that she wanted Renée and Phil to be happy (that one, at least, she meant).

Bella had approached the change with a more pragmatic outlook. She had focused instead on the myriad of details that needed to be sorted before she left: She’d had to see to withdrawing from her high school in Phoenix and getting herself enrolled in Forks High, had to beef up her winter wardrobe (Renée had dipped into the petty cash to help her out, and so she had a nice warm coat and plenty of sweatshirts), and had to arrange to have the water and electricity and the cable turned off when Renée left Phoenix for San Antonio, because Renée would forget as sure as shooting. She just hoped Phil would help her keep track of her credit card bills and remember to get them paid. She’d managed everything with plenty of time to spare, and so, after lingering in Phoenix to spend Christmas with her mom and ringing in 2005, now she was off.

They crossed the street and the shuttle and valet parking lanes to enter the airport, meandering down to the Southwest Airlines desk (odd, really, when she was flying northwest).

“Oh, good—the line isn’t too long, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting your boarding pass,” Renée said.

“I already have it, Mom,” Bella answered, rummaging in her purse for a moment before coming up with a sheet of paper and brandishing it at her mother. “I printed it out last night.”

“Oh, okay, good—”

“But I’ll still need to check my luggage. You can wait here—I’ll just be a minute.”

Bella heaved the duffel out of her mother’s grasp and manhandled her luggage over to the desk to check it, her stiff fingers very happy to see the last of it for a while. It didn’t take long; she got her claim ticket and made her way back over to her mother and led her in the direction of security. Craning her neck, she could see that the line there was short, too, which was good. If it was long, it would just stretch out the goodbyes. She would miss her mother, yes, but she didn’t want to make a scene—better it was just quick.

She stopped a few yards away from the entrance to the little maze of barriers and turned to her mother. “Well,” she said unnecessarily, “here I am.”

Even though she’d braced herself for it, she was still dismayed when Renée burst into tears. Bella obligingly put her arms around her mother, and dammit, she felt her eyes getting a bit misty too.

“Oh, baby—I’m going to miss you!” Renée warbled in her ear.

“I’ll miss you too, Mom—but you’ll see me soon, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, honey? You don’t have to go—it’ll be all right if you want to stay—”

“No, no, Mom—I want to go, and I know you want to go with Phil,” Bella soothed, doing her best to keep her voice level and to blink back the tear that was trying to escape the corner of her right eye.

“But I just feel like I’m just tossing you aside—”

“I know you’re not, and you know you’re not, so it’s okay.” She reached around and pawed blindly in the purse hanging on her arm and managed to find the wad of tissues she’d stuffed in there this morning for just this eventuality. She pulled away, extricating herself from the embrace to give them to Renée, who took them gratefully and mopped at her soggy face.

It gave Bella time to compose herself, and so it was a bright and dry smile that she flashed her mother, who mustered a watery one of her own. And then she was hugging her tightly again, and Bella hugged her back. “I’ll miss you, baby,” Renée sniffed. “Call me first thing when you get in—and I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Bella let her hold her and snuffle on her for a moment more, but then she pulled away—if she didn’t go now, then Renée would never let her leave. She gave her one last, big smile, and then gathered up the jacket that she’d dropped on the ground, set her shoulders, and made her way to the line to enter the concourse.

Renée didn’t leave immediately, but stood tearfully to the side and waited for Bella to pass out of sight. Bella watched her and kept smiling all the way to the gate, and with one last wave she passed through the doorway and towards security.

Whew. Well, one hurdle down, she thought to herself as she entered security. She made her way into the line and she waited patiently behind the suited man who was next through the scanner; she really did hope she didn’t set the stupid thing off this time.

The security guy on the other side waved her through and she stepped forward—

BEEP.

Damn. Most metal implants didn’t set the thing off, her doctor had told her, but she had decided since then that he’d lied—she could only remember two times of the last eight that she hadn’t been pulled to the side at airport security since she’d had her accident.

The guard was already gesturing her to go back through, his expression annoyed. Bella gave what she hoped was an unsuspicious but apologetic smile and proffered the card given to her by the doctor, which stated that she had orthopedic implants—a metal plate screwed into her skull near her right temple and a rod in her right forearm.

The guard glanced at it and then waved her on to the glass-walled area on the side. Bella sighed but went along gamely enough as she was obliged to hold her arms out and let them run the wand over her. She made an effort to be accommodating and told them what and where her implants were, and the wand helpfully went off in her ear when they passed it over her head (but not her arm, because of course it was always the one in her head that did it), and so all in all it only took an extra few minutes before she was hustled out to go collect her shoes and her carry-ons.

Two hurdles. Now she just had to find her gate, and then she should be set until she landed in Seattle.

The thought was not entirely a comforting one, because even now she could theoretically make her escape; could run out and find her mom and stay here. But once she was in the air, she was stuck—and would be stuck in Forks for at least the next year and a half.

Joy.

She plodded through the terminal; she hadn’t had breakfast, so she treated herself to a bagel from the coffee shop she passed but opted out of any caffeine. She was hoping to sleep through most of the three-and-a-half hour flight.

Bella meandered her way through the crowd, keeping her chin up and her eyes front and looking like she had a purpose, until she found her gate. It was fairly busy, but she managed to wedge herself in an out-of-the-way seat tucked in a corner next to a harried-looking woman who was jabbering into her cell phone while tapping away at her laptop keyboard with only the occasional pause for breath and a slug of her coffee—which was clearly needed to keep up her frantic pace. Bella thought it might help if she dialed her pacemaker down a few notches from the hummingbird setting.

She slumped down in her seat, and ignored the occasional elbow to her side, tuning out the noise around her as she gnawed on her bagel and looked glumly out the wide windows. It was beautiful out—mocking her, no doubt. The winter had been exceptionally pretty this year. Between seventy and eighty degrees and sunny almost every day—her kind of weather. The sky was the wide, faded desert blue that it always was, with only a few white puffs of cloud skating across it.

Forks averaged over a hundred inches of rain a year—she’d done her research. It was cold and wet and rainy, and it was like that all the time. And here she was, already fishbelly pale even living in Arizona—her eyes would probably start to evolve away after an extended stay in Forks.

From the Valley of the Sun to the Peninsula of the Rain. Somehow the latter just didn’t have the same ring to it.

Bella was jolted from her self-pitying thoughts and her contemplation of the planes on the tarmac by the boarding call for her flight. She took a deep breath and stood, wiping away any crumbs on her lap and balling up the wax paper from her breakfast and tossing it in a nearby can. She took a deep breath, and then insinuated herself in the line that was forming.

She hated boarding. She always felt like she had to be as quick as possible, so as not to hold everyone up behind her, and she always just knew she was going to trip because of it—and once she had, right down the incline of the gate in front of everybody, and it was horrible. At least this time she didn’t have any bulky carryon luggage. That way, she wouldn’t have to hang her big behind out in the aisle and block traffic while she tried to wrestle it into the overhead bins on the plane without breaking all her nails or dropping it on her own head (two things that had also happened to her, and were also horrible).

The ticket-taker was chirpily cheerful, and Bella did her best to return her smile as she handed over her boarding pass, but she had the feeling that it was rather more than a little wan. Squaring her shoulders, she marched down into the maw of the gate. She didn’t trip, either on the inclined floor or between the gate and the plane, and she found a seat quick enough—a window, thank heavens—and crammed herself in it.

And so here she was. She was on the plane. And she was going to Forks, for what at the moment felt like the rest of her natural life.

And here she’d always been under the impression that you needed happy thoughts to fly.

She concentrated on looking out the window at the passing planes and the baggage handlers, gnawing on a hangnail and ignoring the crick starting in her neck from craning at the awkward angle. The stewardess announced that flight was full, and so she was resignedly expecting to have to sit right next to someone. And she did; her company for almost four hours was to be a young couple who didn’t seem aware of much other than themselves as they slid into the seats next to her, trapping her in place.

Boarding dragged a bit.; It was a packed flight, probably because it was non-stop. She already had the feeling that it was going to be a very long flight as well, at least for her, because the couple next to her were so wrapped up in each other that they were practically sharing a seat. Bella just looked out the window, disgruntled, until the attendant’s voice suddenly announced that it was time for departure as the plane suddenly began to taxi towards the runway.

It was their job to give the safety spiel, and Bella somehow always felt obligated to at least pretend to pay attention as the attendants ran down the laundry list of things to do in an emergency. She really just wanted the plane to hurry up and take off—she always rather enjoyed it. Her mother hated it, as did most people, as she understood it, but she loved the acceleration.

Finally—she wasn’t sure how much more of the cloying talk from next door she could handle—the plane started to move. Faster and faster, until it was hurtling down the gray blur of the runway, the engines roaring, and she was pushed back into her seat as she watched the flaps on the wings shift—and then they were airborne.

The brief burst of rollercoaster-like elation fizzled out quickly as they began to level off, because now she was trapped in the air next to the cuddle-couple and well and truly on her way to Forks, Washington, USA. Her previously glum mood settled back down on her shoulders like a shroud, and it was with great relief that the pilot finally announced that the passengers could turn on their electronics. Bella reached into her jacket pocket and came back with her MP3 player, popping the headphones in her ears. She spared one last irritated glance for her seatmates, who didn’t notice (but they probably wouldn’t have noticed anything but their mutual petting), and then turned to look out the window, thumbing her music past the inappropriately cheerful Katrina and the Waves and A-ha, through a few depressingly angstful piano sonatas, and finally settling on the Firebird Suite. She always liked to listen to classical when in the air; it was the best to watch the clouds go by.

Okay. That’s that, I guess, she thought to herself. I’m going to Forks. She stared out at the receding desert vista below. It hadn’t felt real, somehow—even after all the planning leading up to it, it still felt like some sort of vaguely unpleasant dream that she hadn’t quite forgotten upon waking. That it wasn’t really going to happen.

But it had. It was happening, and right now. In less than four hours, she was going to be in Washington—and this time, it wasn’t just for a month of summer vacation.

Bella pressed her forehead against the edge of the window. She hated change—she wanted to maintain the status quo and just rock along. But maybe this was good for her in the long run, she reasoned—in a year and a half, she would be going to college. That was going to be a serious change, so she should just look at this as a trial run, a good-sized disruption to her schedule as a prelude to the really big one that was looming on the horizon.

She sighed again, her eyes sliding out of focus as the earth flew by beneath her. She must have been more tense over this trip than she’d thought, because with the steady rumble of the engines in the background and the strings of Stravinsky in her ears, it didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep.

The trees flashed by, melting together in the falling darkness before her unfocused eyes into a leafy green blur. Bella concentrated on the trails of the raindrops on her window rather than the rumbling of her stomach.

Her plane had arrived in Seattle a bit behind schedule, so she’d had to dash to catch the twelve o’clock shuttle to Port Angeles. Between tearing through the concourse and collecting her luggage, she hadn’t had time to nab anything for lunch. Her bagel was long gone, and so she’d had to endure the long, four-hour ride across Washington with her stomach angrily gnawing on her backbone. She’d been bored enough that she’d thankfully managed to fall asleep for part of the way, but now, on the last leg of her journey—one last hour of bus ride to Forks—she was starving. The Coke and bag of peanuts from the vending machine in Port Angeles weren’t helping. She’d have to get something once she got to Forks.

Forks. She was nearly there. Welcome to every day for the rest of your life.

Bella hated sitting around feeling sorry for herself, but stuck in the creaky, drafty bus as it jounced and jostled her closer and closer to the rainy little hole-in-the-road that was to be her home for the next year and a half, it was hard to do much else. She did not like Forks. There was nothing there, nothing to do, and it was cloudy and rainy three hundred and seventy days a year. She’d been uprooted from her boring but happily stable and familiar surroundings in the big city in sunny Arizona and was being shipped up to this wet, miserable little Podunk town so that her mom could go gallivanting across the country with a man closer to Bella’s age than her own.

That wasn’t very fair, but as she’d been more than a good sport about it, she allowed herself the luxury of at least a few minutes of bitterness.

Shaking herself, she leaned her head back against the seat rest and closed her eyes, sighing a little and at least trying to think of the positives of this situation. It was something new, and as much as she personally hated it, most of the world seemed to regard new experiences as good things. Surely she could at least try to see it that way. And even if it was wet, she didn’t necessarily think that she’d mind a little cool weather now and again, rather than the searing summertime heat of the desert. And she probably wouldn’t have to worry about getting sunburned.

She’d best keep all these positive thoughts in her head—a lighted sign had just flashed by her window.

Welcome to Forks.

Bella couldn’t help her sigh when she saw it, and she turned away to glower pointlessly at the loudly snoring man two seats away. Any and all of the dreamlike quality of her sudden relocation that had kept her from dwelling on it had long since evaporated, so now there wasn’t much else for her to do but accept it and make the best of it.

It wouldn’t do to greet Charlie with a face like the clouds above her. She drew herself up, calling on her “ray of sunshine” persona that she often used to deal with Renée. She knew Charlie didn’t usually need it turned up quite that high—he was as placid as herself in that regard and didn’t require a show of enthusiasm—but for her first night here, she figured that it couldn’t hurt.

Even as late as it was, she had no trouble making out the depressingly familiar (and familiarly depressing) landmarks of the town of her summers past. The same boring old restaurants, the same tired old stores, the same dreary old houses.

Well, I did say I hated change, after all, she thought wryly.

It was thoroughly dark by the time that they left the highway and wound through the streets to the Forks bus stop. However, despite the rain and the weak light of the only street lamp, she could still see the black and white cruiser with the bubble lights on top parked nearby.

When the bus squealed to a stop, she schooled her features into a happy expression, much like the one she’d used when bidding her mother farewell, and she gathered her luggage from the racks and hauled it out into the rain.

And there was Charlie, standing at the stop, craning his neck to look in the bus. He beamed when he saw her, and the answering smile that spread across her face was quite genuine.

“Bella!” he called, waving, jogging up to the door, oblivious to the downpour, hurrying to relieve her of most of her bags and hustle her back under the awning. He dropped her luggage, and she did the same, so that she could return his hug.

“How are you, Bella?” he asked, pulling back and holding her at arms length to get a look at her.

“Great, Dad,” she said—which was only half a lie, really.

“Did you get your hair cut?” he asked, squinting.

She smiled a little and shook her head. “No—not since I saw you last.” He had, though. It was shorter at the temples—and grayer.

“Oh.” Charlie stood still for a minute, seemingly casting around for something to say, and finally settled on, “Well, let’s get this stuff in the car—” he gestured to her bags, “—and get you home.”

Bella nodded and flipped up her hood; Charlie grabbed both her heavier bags before she could say anything about it and was already charging out into the rain. She grabbed her duffle and followed, almost landing on her kiester when she slipped in a puddle but managing to right herself at the last minute

Once her bag was tossed safely in the trunk, Bella was extremely grateful to get into the still-warm cab, the smell of old coffee and stale corn chips notwithstanding. Charlie slid in beside her and obligingly fired up the heater. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No—and I’m starving,” she answered emphatically.

He smiled, his mustache crinkling. “I thought you might be—how about a dinner date with your old dad?”

Bella felt herself smiling back. “That’d be great.”

Chapter Text

Bella opened her eyes and stared at the cracked ceiling above her. Even after three days here, she still felt a vague sense of disorientation upon waking up. It wasn’t that her room was unfamiliar to her, it was just that she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was supposed to be in Phoenix, not Forks.

But here she was. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her fist but didn’t bother to get up yet; the rattling of the pipes in the west wall that had awakened her told her that the bathroom was occupied. But that was the only sound—there was no patter of rain on the roof, and the relative brightness she could see through the curtains on her window told her that she was in for an at least partially dry day. Maybe it was more accurate to call it a damp day. Still better than wet, though.

Brightness outside or no, the room remained pleasantly dim, so Bella snuggled deeper into her still-warm blankets. Her new still-warm blankets. Her room had been quite a surprise when she’d arrived, shaking off the raindrops, back at Charlie’s house after dinner that first night. Every year she’d come to visit, they’d both half-heartedly claimed that one day they were going to redo her old room, the one that had been hers as a baby and was still painted pink. But both of them knew that was never going to happen—which was why Bella had been so surprised to find that it had.

The faded pink walls were now a soft, buttery yellow, and there was a new braided rag rug on the floor. The desk in the corner was new, and while the rest of the furniture was the same, there were new sheets and pillows on the bed with a dark purple bedspread and matching curtains on the window. The ceiling was still cracked, but it had been roughly spackled over and the vague brown stains of the ubiquitous Forks water-damage had been painted over white.

It wasn’t a huge gesture in the grand scheme of things, she supposed—but for Charlie it was positively effusive, and that along with his not-so-carefully masked anxiety when he asked her how she liked it told her just how painfully happy he was to have her living with him.

And she did like the room—it was a warm little haven in the gray and green of Forks outside. With only the slightest pang over the permanence of it, she’d unpacked and scattered her belongings around the room. Charlie had already set up her old computer, and with her books in the shelves and her shoes and her craft projects in the closet and her jewelry on the bureau, it already felt like she lived there.

Except right when she woke up—but she suspected that would fade in time.

The water stopped running; Bella and her mother both were terrible shower-hogs, taking far too long and using up all the hot water. Charlie, however, was a model of speed and efficiency and tended to be in and out in five minutes. She guessed it was time to drag herself out of bed as well, then, so she got up and threw on a T-shirt and jeans and went out into the hall just in time to see Charlie’s retreating back, meaning the bathroom was free.

By the time she had brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face and wrestled her hair (limp from the humidity, a condition that she had resigned herself to indefinitely) into some semblance of order and was generally feeling more human, Charlie was already downstairs. She yawned hugely, not bothering to cover her mouth as she plodded down the stairs herself. She ambled past the Wall of Bella, where Charlie was still proudly displaying her school picture from every year starting with pre-school and ending with her junior picture, and every grade in between, from the disastrous perm in fourth grade and the subsequent short-haired look in fifth, to the braces spanning seventh grade through her sophomore year. She as usual avoided looking at all the grinning Bellas—just as she tended to try not to look at the still prominent pictures of Renée and their wedding flanking the crucifix over the mantle. Renée had moved on a dozen times over; it depressed her to see that Charlie hadn’t.

Charlie was sitting at the breakfast table behind the Saturday paper, but he looked her way to wish her a good morning. She replied in kind, although by definition it wasn’t—Bella was not a morning person. Charlie was up at the crack of dawn every day, as she was reminded every weekday during the summer when she was rudely awaked by the ridiculously noisy pipes that shared her bedroom wall. Thankfully on Saturdays he waited for his shower until a more reasonable hour—around ten. And on the bright side of his weekday habits, now that she was here to stay, she’d have a built-in plumbing alarm clock so she wouldn’t have to worry about being late to school.

But that thought rather cast a pall over her morning. It was Saturday—Forks High started back up on Monday, and Bella would start with it. Grimacing a little to herself, she poured herself a small bowl of cereal—Charlie had remembered that she liked Rice Krispies, and had even bought her name-brand and got bananas for it, too—and joined Charlie at the table.

“Sleep well?” Charlie asked, peering around his paper.

Bella nodded around a mouthful of cereal; Charlie gave a satisfied grunt and went back to his reading. Unlike Renée, Charlie didn’t feel the need for Sparkling Mealtime Conversation, which was something of a relief. Not that Renée had needed much input from Bella to keep a conversation going between the two of them, of course, but still showing the proper attentiveness to her ramblings did get trying. And there was more chance for her to choke.

Mornings had always been quiet with Charlie, and today was no exception, at least on his end. She finished her cereal—she didn’t eat too much, seeing how it was already late and Charlie would probably want lunch in just an hour or two—and then borrowed the funnies from Charlie’s paper, and the two just sat quietly and read.

After working her way through the funnies, she thought about asking for the crossword (it was easier up here in the little Peninsula Daily News than down in the much larger Arizona Daily Star), but she really wasn’t feeling today, so she took her bowl and Charlie’s empty coffee cup up to the sink. Just as she had finished rinsing the dishes and tucking them away in the antiquated dishwasher, she heard the rumble of an engine turn into the driveway and then cut off, followed by a two quick beeps of a horn. Turning instinctively to look toward the front door, she saw Charlie drop his paper and rise; there was a furtive smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “There they are,” he said cryptically, and headed out the door.

Bella followed, vaguely apprehensive, and peered out the open door, just in time to see Charlie helping Billy Black out of a blue Chevy pickup.

She felt herself start to smile; Charlie, as a long time Forks resident, knew everyone in town and had a slew of avid fishermen and fellow sports fans for friends. In the few days since arriving, Bella had run into most of them at dinner at The Lodge, Charlie’s favorite place to eat, and was forced to endure the same recountings of her childhood antics that she had to hear every time she saw them. And there were a lot of said stories, given how back when she still lived in Washington she’d been sort of the surrogate daughter or niece to all of Charlie’s friends. She went along with it, but it was no wonder then that of all her father’s friends, Billy was her favorite—he never felt the need to bring up the time she’d stuffed herself with that fantastic toffee he made, then begged him to hoist her in the air for an airplane ride and had promptly thrown up all over his shoes afterwards—nor anything else stupid she’d done as a kid.

It was sad to see him angling himself into the collapsible wheelchair that Charlie was holding by the truck door. Billy wasn’t just one of her father’s friends, he was also Bella’s godfather, and he had always seemed so huge when she was little, towering over her as he leaned down to scoop her up in his powerful but gentle arms for a hello hug when she came to visit Forks. Crammed in the little aluminum frame, confined there due to his diabetes, he always looked diminished somehow.

But she knew better than to think he actually was. He spotted her, and his dark weathered face creased in a grin. “Bella!”

“Hi, Billy!” she called, and trotted over. Even though she was the one who had to lean down now, the hug was still the same.

He released her and held her at arm’s length. “Pretty as ever,” he said with a wink, and she couldn’t help but smile at him despite being a bit embarrassed. “How’ve you been, kiddo?”

“Doing fine,” she replied, but her eyes flicked away from him at the sudden, roaring approach of another, older red pickup turning into the drive.

Billy chuckled. “Well, that’s better than most can say, that’s for sure.” He smiled up at her. “We’re glad to have you, Bella—I knew we’d make a Forksian out of you sooner or later.”

The driver’s side door on the second truck opened, and from the cab unfolded a long, lanky apparition with lots of dark hair who loped up to stand next to Billy, moving with the uneasy fluidity of a teenaged boy who hasn’t quite grown into his miles of arms and legs.

Billy looked up—way up—at him and chuckled. “So—did you even recognize little Jacob anymore? It’s gotta be, what—eight years since you saw each other last?”

Bella goggled up at the giant in front of her—that was Jacob Black? The little kid whose shoes were always untied and who’d had an unhealthy fascination with slugs?

Billy was smirking at her obvious surprise. “Doesn’t feel like that long to me—couldn’t have been that long ago that you two were playing outside together,” he said

Jacob chuckled. “Yeah—back in that mudhole in Charlie’s back yard.”

Bella’s face split into a grin. “And you brought over your great big set of watercolors, and we painted our faces up like warpaint, and you painted your teeth green,” she reminded him.

Jacob’s mouth fell open, and then he grinned and slapped a palm to his forehead even as Billy brayed with laughter. “Aw, man—I forgot about that!”

“I hadn’t,” said Bella, a bit smugly. “That was a formative experience of my childhood years.”

“Yeah—that boys are idiots,” Charlie threw out dryly.

Jacob shook his head self-deprecatingly, and then he looked up and smiled. Bella started a little as she suddenly found herself wrapped up in a somewhat skinnier version of the big bear hugs she remembered from Billy. It was slightly awkward, but she hugged him back, and was surprised to find that she meant it, and not just because he was an old childhood friend, but because no matter how tenuous the connection, she was honestly glad to know someone up here in the wilderness of Washington.

“It’s good to see you again, Bella,” he said sincerely as he pulled away and offset the hug with a manly clap on the shoulder.

“You too,” she agreed. She eyed him critically. “Didn’t you used to be shorter than me?”

He snorted. “I guess I had to do enough growing for both of us, since you’re still a midget,” he teased, and Bella made a face at him. He smirked back, and then looked over Billy’s head. “Well—what do you think?” he asked.

She looked at him blankly.

“Of your welcome home present,” Billy clarified.

She turned to Charlie, perplexed, only to find him smiling back at her a trifle shyly. “Well, Billy told me last week that he was planning on getting rid of his old truck here,” he said, gesturing to the big red beast that Jacob had driven, “so I figured, since you’d be needing some wheels, that I’d buy it for you.”

Bella’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” she managed after a moment.

“Yup,” said Charlie, pleased. “It’s all yours—I figured you wouldn’t want to be showing up to school in the police chief’s cruiser every day.”

Bella was speechless. She’d been saving money from her summer jobs and the occasional babysitting duties for the Whittier’s next door back in Phoenix and was hoping to buy a car soon, but this…after staring for a moment, the most she could manage was, “Wow. I—wow!”

Charlie ducked his head a bit, embarrassed but still smiling, and Billy gave that booming laugh of his again.

“I—thanks, Dad, I—” Bella managed to stammer, “I don’t even know what to say! This is great!”

Billy held out his hand, into which Jacob dropped a key ring. He held it briefly aloft and then tossed it to her. She missed, of course, but was still grinning from ear to ear as she scooped it up from the gravel of the drive. She positively skipped to the door and hauled it open (it weighed a ton) and she slid inside and slammed the door shut, sitting behind the wheel and savoring it—her truck.

With a thump, Jacob opened the passenger side and clambered in next to her. “It’s a 1963 Chevy C10,” he said without preamble. “Dad got it back before I was born, but it hasn’t let us down once since then.”

“It’s awesome,” Bella said, checking out the dash, the instruments, the ancient radio, everything.

“It’s a piece of crap,” said Jacob cheerfully, “but it runs.”

“Well, if not, I’m holding you personally responsible—for talking bad about my new car,” she informed him.

“Well, you wouldn’t be half wrong, since I’m the one who kept it running all these years.” When Bella looked up, he quirked a smile at her. “That’s how I know it’ll still run. Can you drive a stick?” he asked.

Bella shrugged. “I learned to drive in one—took my test in an automatic, though. I’ll get used to it. Does this thing work?” she asked, tapping the dilapidated old radio poking out from the console.

“Yeah—tape deck and radio,” he said. “I scrounged it up from some old junker that my friend’s dad had lying around. No CD player, though, sorry.”

“That’s no problem. How’s the gas mileage?”

“Awful, but you’re not exactly in a big city, so it shouldn’t be a problem either,” he said.

“I hope you weren’t planning on being a car salesman when you grow up,” Bella remarked dryly as she crammed in the key and cranked it

The engine roared to furious life, but she could still hear Jacob laugh over it. “Oh yeah? I managed to sell this one to you, didn’t I?”

Bella paused, and then conceded. “Touché,” she said, but then she stuck her tongue out at him and then went back adjusting her seat and mirrors. “I look pretty good in this thing,” she remarked to the cab, tossing her hair in the rearview mirror. “I’ll get me a car-kit for my MP3 player, and me and Michael Jackson will just moonwalk all over this town.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ll be the envy of all you survey,” Jacob replied. “The whole school will hear you coming from a mile off.”

“Urgh—let’s not talk about school,” she grunted, looking down at the odometer; the truck had an obscene number of miles on it.

“Not looking forward to being the new kid on the block?” he asked sympathetically.

“Not in the slightest,” she said glumly. She cranked the biggest knob on the radio and was rewarded with a burst of static; she turned it down quickly and tried running through the FM, asking, “You’re, what? Not a freshman?”

Jacob looked affronted. “Hell no—sophomore,” he said with mock severity.

“Oh, sorry—my mistake,” she said, with an obsequious bow of her head as she turned off the radio. But then she brightened. “Well, no classes together, but I’ll still see you around, right?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. I go to school out on the reservation,” he replied.

“Oh.” Bella’s stomach dropped at that, and she looked away and started adjusting her seat. “That sucks.”

“Hey, now—what’s wrong with my school?

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that,” she hurried to clarify. “It’s just—” she shrugged casually. “I guess it just would have been nice to know someone, is all.”

Understanding sparked in Jacob’s dark eyes, and then he smiled he said, “Aw, I wouldn’t worry. With a hot-rod like this, I’m sure the boys will be climbing all over themselves to get to you.” At Bella’s helpless snort, he added, “Or maybe we can talk our dads into sending you out to the rez school—bring you out to La Push and get you a real education, not that whiteboy BS.”

“Red man’s burden?” she asked dryly.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta teach you palefaces how to survive in the New World,” he said with a wink and a grin, and she found herself smiling back at him despite her disappointment.

Bella went back to her new acquisition, revving the engine a little and listening to its rumble rise to a roar before shutting it off and then sliding back out of the cab and into the feeble light of the cloudy day. “Well, is there anything in particular I should know about this guy? Any little built in surprises?” she asked Jacob over the hood as he clambered out.

He scratched his head. “Nothing that’s that big of a deal—it doesn’t care for the cold, but it hardly ever gets cold enough to be a serious problem around here. If you just give it a little gas and crank it over hard, it’ll usually start up with no problem.” He leaned on the fender. “It does use a bit of oil—it’s not too bad, but you should keep an eye on it. You’ll probably need to top it off now and again between changes. Oh, and you might want to watch the spark plugs—I think the timing’s a bit off. They sort of wear down faster than they should.”

Bella pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s okay,” she said, moving around to pop the hood open and peek underneath. “I can manage all that on my own, I think.”

“You know cars?” Jacob asked, coming around to lean against the nose as she looked at the truck’s innards.

Bella shrugged. “Not really—not enough to do the work you’ve done here, anyway” she added, taking in the myriad of obviously newer parts. “One of my mom’s old boyfriends did, though—was big into restoring old cars and motorcycles—and since my mom doesn’t know anything about cars, I figured it wouldn’t hurt for me to pick up a few things so she wouldn’t kill hers by driving it without any oil or something. So I can do the oil and fluids, lube, jump or change a battery, change out the spark plugs, change a tire—just standard maintenance stuff.” Her mouth twisted. “I guess that does constitute ‘knowing cars’ for a girl.”

Jacob bounced his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. “As far as my sisters were concerned, no one without a Y-chromosome should even look under the hood.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially, leaning in. “But you can do your own maintenance if you want. It’ll be our little secret.” He rocked back and grinned. “Seriously, though—sounds like you know just about every thing you’ll need to keep on top of this beast.”

“Cool beans.” Bella poked around a little, looking to see where to check and add the oil and any other fluids the car would need, and then gingerly lowered the massive hood, letting it drop shut with a bang and then coming back around to where Charlie and Billy were talking beside the other truck. They looked up as they approached.

Suddenly shy, Bella sidled up to Charlie and said, “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, Bells,” he answered, his voice a bit gruff, but Bella could tell that he meant it.

“You take good care of that truck now, hear?” said Billy. “It’s my oldest and most beloved son.” At Bella’s smile and Jacob’s eyeroll, he added, “And if anything goes wrong, you just give us a buzz—it comes with a warranty.”

“Will do,” Bella said, and Billy’s eyes crinkled back at her.

“So, what are your big plans for tomorrow? Dad-and-Daughter Day, or something?” he asked, flicking his eyes to Charlie, who blinked and then began to look uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know we had any,” Bella said.

Billy looked quizzically up at her, and then over at Charlie. “Oh, sorry, did I spoil a surprise?” he asked.

“No, nothing—I’m just staying home,” said Charlie.

“From what?” Bella asked, her brow furrowed.

“Charlie here bowed out of his usual Sunday fishing trip with Harry and Waylon. I’d figured you two must have been up to something for him to alter the schedule that he’s kept for the last God knows how many years—‘cept when you were here in the summers, of course,” Billy said easily.

Charlie was looking discomfited, but he stoutly said all the same, “No—it’s just that Bella’s here now, so I should be home more on the weekends.”

“What?” Bella demanded. “Dad, no—I’m fine. You go ahead. Really.”

Charlie shook his head firmly. “No—Billy said it, I’ve been going fishing every Sunday since—well, for over ten years, so changing things up isn’t going to hurt me at all. And you just got here—I don’t need to be gallivantin’ off to the lake first thing.”

“Dad, this isn’t summer vacation,” she said. “It’s not like I’m leaving in two months. I—I live here now. You’ll still be seeing plenty of me every day, and I’ll be fine here. I don’t want to sweep in here and mess up your routine. Please—go fishing.”

Charlie looked torn. Billy glanced at Bella. “Charlie—it isn’t every guy who can say the woman of the house wants him to run off and go fishing,” he said, his voice laced with mock reverence. “You’d better take advantage of it just so you can record it for posterity.”

“More like posterior,” muttered Jacob, and Bella muffled a snort.

If Billy heard his son’s comment, he chose not to dignify it with a response, but just kept talking to Charlie and looked at Bella when he said, “And if you manage to haul us in a big catch, there will definitely be a big fish-fry in our future.” He grinned slyly up at her, and Bella grinned back; Billy’s fish fry was the stuff of legend, and she had been known to go to great lengths to get it.

“Well, I—I’d feel bad about running off and leaving you here all by yourself, Bella,” said Charlie, sounding plaintive.

Bella shook her head, smiling. “Don’t. I’m used to entertaining myself on weekends—that’s when Mom’s always off on her latest fad. And anyway, I have plenty to do. I have to get used to driving my new truck,” she said, flashing him a bright smile, which he tentatively returned, “and I want to go to the store and pick up a few things, school supplies and such. And no offense, Dad, but you’ve got a bachelor’s kitchen. I have got to do something about that.”

Jacob gave a great bark of laughter. “Oh, so not only does she want you to go fishing, but she’s gonna stay home in the kitchen where she belongs while you do—this is too good to be true! You sure managed to train this one right!”

Jacob was clearly begging to be punched in the arm, and so Bella obliged him before turning back to Charlie. “Really, Dad, go have fun. I’ll be fine.”

“Well…if you’ll be all right—”

“I will,” she said earnestly, and then added, “Witch’s Honor,” forking her fingers under her eyes like on “Bewitched” the way she used to when she was little, when she’d promise to not tell Renée that Charlie had let her stay up watching Nick at Nite in the summers, and Charlie laughed.

“All right, Bells, you’ve convinced me,” he chuckled.

“Just catch me a big one—and then you’d better keep your end of the bargain and fry it for me,” she said, rounding on Billy.

“Oh, you got it, girly-o. It’ll be a feast to remember,” he said ponderously, and then grinned. Looking at his watch, he said, “I know it’s a bit early, but do you two want to grab some lunch? Catch up a bit? I have to hear about all the trouble you’ve been in,” he said to Bella, tapping her with an elbow.

“Yeah, me too—research,” said Jacob with a wink.

Charlie raised a mock-warning eyebrow at him, but said, “Sure. It is a bit early, though, you’re right—you want to come in and sit for a bit before we head out?”

Billy glanced at Jacob and then nodded. “Lead the way, Chief Swan—before I roll you down.”

“I’d like to see you try it when you’re tipped over in the ditch,” he sneered back, and then they both headed back in, and on the way Billy ran over the backs of his heels on purpose.

Bella quirked an eyebrow up at Jacob. “Were they always that silly, and I’ve just now noticed?” she asked, moving towards the door.

“Nope. They’ve only gotten worse in their old age.” He grinned down at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners the way Billy’s always did when he smiled. “I guess that’s what we have to look forward to—so you’d better move before I run you down!”

“I’d just like to see you try face down in the ditch,” she warned, shaking a pathetically tiny fist up at his lofty chin; he looked at her and then at it, and then smirked at her as he completely engulfed her entire hand in his own huge paw. She scowled, and he dropped her hand and laughed, and so did she as they followed their fathers inside.

Bella stared up at the ceiling, wide awake in the darkness as she listened to the rain beat its tiny fists on the rooftop. True to form, because she had to wake up early tomorrow, she couldn’t sleep.

The weekend had passed with distressing speed. Saturday had been great; Bella had always liked Billy, who was one of the bright spots in her dreary summer vacations in Forks. And Jacob—she remembered a skinny little runt waving a branch like a sword or a ray gun when they would play pretend, and now he was a giant. But she still recognized him, in part because he had his father’s smile and laugh and way of setting people at ease, and also because she occasionally spotted that manic little space-faring knight errant peeking out of that mile-high body.

They’d gone out to Charlie’s usual haunt for lunch and ended up staying there for most of the afternoon, just sitting and talking and telling stories with Jacob stealing bites of everyone’s pie. Turned out since Charlie had bought himself his new big flat screen TV last year, weekends were game nights at his place, and while Bella wasn’t much of a sports fan, it seemed the trend would continue. Football and basketball and whatever else aside, she thought that filling the quiet little house with noise and laughter was a good idea, and was looking forward to it.

But then Billy and Jacob left, and Charlie went to bed early after dinner so as to get up early the next day for his fishing trip (and wake Bella up just as early with his shower), so he was gone when she woke up for the second time, meaning it was just her in the house. During the summers it had always been the weekdays that she was left to her own devices while Charlie was at work, so it was nothing new. On the weekends he had always stayed home, and after taking her to church on Sunday (during her “formative years,” anyway; they’d kind of fallen out of the habit once she’d finally been Confirmed), they’d spend the days together, sometimes travelling around the state, but often just staying home.

She hadn’t lied about the change of pace—she’d been fine on her own this weekend. She’d spent what remained of her Sunday morning tooling around town in her truck. She killed it no fewer than four times in trying to relearn a stick, but in the end she was managing with only a little jerkiness on stops and starts (okay, maybe more than “a little” on hills). She also managed to avoid getting lost—quite an accomplishment for her, even considering the fact that she spent a whole month here every year in the summer and a week at Christmas—and lurched back home around one for a late lunch and to make a shopping list.

That afternoon she drove to the store and stocked up on non-bachelor food, splurging a little for her first homemade dinner for tonight when Charlie came home. While she was out, she picked up any extra school supplies she’d need, which was almost a treat in and of itself—she was nerdy enough to enjoy shopping for fresh paper and pencils and notebooks and stuff, and getting to do it in the middle of the year was geekily satisfying.

By the time she got home, it was time to get the meatloaf started, and while it cooked she spent a while organizing her new school things in her backpack, and then Charlie was home. He had caught her a big trout as promised, and he popped it in the deepfreeze for the promised future fish-fry, and then it was time for dinner. He’d been quite pleased with her efforts, being able to come home to a hot, non-take out meal after a long rainy day on the river; if Bella said so herself, she wasn’t half bad in the kitchen. It must have skipped a generation—both generations—because neither Charlie nor Renée were any great hands in that particular arena. There, at least, Charlie and Renée were a perfect match—the two of them both lived out of either a restaurant or a can. Bella had learned at a young age that if she wanted something real to eat, it was up to her to make it.

The evening was mostly quiet; Renée had arranged for a phone call on Sunday evenings, so Bella retreated up to her room to say “yes” and “mmhmm” into the phone while Renée chattered in what Bella was sure she thought was a reassuring fashion about starting a new school. But she sounded very happy, which was the point of all this mess, and so was what counted. By the time she had exhausted her fount of talk, it was past ten, and so Bella said goodnight to Charlie and showered and went to bed.

But sleep wouldn’t come. She sighed and flopped over on her side, curling her arm beneath her and staring at the wall. She really, really didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. She wouldn’t know anybody, she’d be behind in all of her classes, she’d have to sit all alone at lunch like some kind of leper, she’d get lost on her way to classes and get marked late, her teachers wouldn’t like her, she’d forget her locker combination and wouldn’t be able to get it unlocked and would have to haul fifty pounds of books around on her back, and it would be wet.

Here in the dark, all her stress and worries about starting a new school that she’d been carefully repressing were now clamoring to the surface. She was being ridiculous, she knew—people moved to new places every day and dealt with all the changes just fine. She at least had the good fortune to be coming in at semester, rather than in the middle of the term or something. And while the people of Forks were a bit insular, they weren’t unfriendly. And she hadn’t had any really close friends down in Phoenix; she didn’t doubt that given time, she’d meet people she could talk to much as she had back home.

And she wasn’t stupid—she had always been a good student. She’d just have to work extra hard to catch up in her classes (if she was behind at all), and she was sure she could manage to both catch up and keep up and keep her GPA up where it should be for college. And she was quiet and didn’t cause trouble—she’d never had any trouble keeping her teachers happy. Not to mention that she’d already gone up to the school last week; the offices had been open on Friday, so she’d gotten her schedule and her ID and had taken a quick look around the buildings. She may have to wander around with her nose in her schedule like some stupid freshman for the first week or so, but she was pretty sure she knew where all her classes were and wouldn’t get lost.

And even if it was wet and she had to carry all her books, she would deal with it.

But even all her logical arguments and reasoning couldn’t quell the unpleasant tightness in her belly—nerves didn’t listen to logic. She wished she knew where she’d be in classes, so she’d be ready. She wished Jacob would be in school with her, so she’d know somebody.

She wished she was back in Phoenix, so she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this at all.

But their house in Phoenix was dark and cold; Renée and Phil were down in Texas, and she was up here. And that’s the way things were, so there was no point in angsting over it.

She just wished she could fall asleep. The last thing she needed was to be dealing with a new school and all her worries and fears on top of exhaustion.

I’ll be fine. She repeated those words in her head like a mantra. I’ll be fine. She wasn’t the first person in the world to start a new school, and she wouldn’t be the last. Her worries were trivial in the grand scheme of things—the most she had to really worry about was getting to school on time and not getting eaten by a rampaging banana slug.

She was pretty sure she could manage that much, at least.

The patter of the rain on the roof was hypnotic, a sound that she had always enjoyed but heard far too rarely back in Phoenix. She closed her eyes and listened, breathing slowly through her nose, and felt herself relaxing, slowly starting to drift off.

I’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

Well, at least two of Bella’s dire predictions came true first thing in the morning—and both were water-related. Sure enough, she was jolted out of a sound sleep even before her alarm when off by the bang and the roar of Charlie flushing the toilet and starting the shower.

And yes, it was raining.

But, to be fair, those two were hardly predictions; they were merely statements of fact. She burrowed down into her blankets, determined to catch as much shut-eye as she could before she just had to get up (and subsequently put this day off as long as possible).

She must have dozed back off, because she didn’t remember hearing Charlie shut off the water, and when her alarm went off with a horrible wailing that made her all but leap off of her pillow, it was forty-five minutes later than when she woke up the last time.

She blinked blearily around the dark room, rubbing at her eyes and yawning fit to split her head, and then just sort of sat there, trying to get the gears between her ears, creaky and gummed up with sleep, back to turning smoothly. She eventually rolled herself out of the warm bed and into the unpleasant chill of the morning air and lurched into the bathroom.

She felt a hundred percent better after brushing her teeth and washing her face (and really, when you felt about as rotten as you could get, there was only room for improvement), and she went back to her room to get dressed. She was never one to take too many pains with her appearance—she really didn’t have much to work with, in her opinion—but it was her first day, so she decided to wear something a bit nicer than a T-shirt, and picked out one of the nicer ones of her admittedly larger-than-necessary collection of necklaces (the only jewelry she really wore). Her hair was pretty much a hopeless cause, but she did her best to pull it back into something other than a flat and lifeless sheet, and then trooped her way downstairs, dressed and ready to face the day (well, as much as she could be, anyway).

She stopped short in the hallway; it was already 7:15, but there was Charlie, still sitting at the breakfast table with his paper, and he looked up at the sound of her shoes on the creaking floorboards. “Hey, Bells,” he said.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, the early hour and her surprise making the question come out rather rudely.

Charlie cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “Well—it’s your first day, so I thought I’d see you off.” He gave her a little half-smile. “What’s the good of being the chief of police if I can’t take an hour or two off to wish my girl a good first day at school?”

Bella found she didn’t have much to say to that; all she could do was sort of look at the floor and smile a little. “Thanks, Dad—I appreciate it.”

Charlie just grunted, no more comfortable with talking about this sort of thing than she was, and retreated back behind his paper, while she busied herself with rustling up some breakfast. She sat across from him when she’d made her usual cereal and ate it quickly in the not-at-all uncomfortable silence between herself and Charlie’s paper.

“Well,” she said, when she’d finished, “I guess it’s time for me to head out.”

Charlie folded his paper and stood, going for his wallet. “Here—lunch money,” he said, thrusting a twenty at her. She thanked him, and he followed her to the door, where she wrapped herself up in her jacket and scarf and hauled her backpack up onto her shoulder. She looked up at Charlie, who didn’t seem to have any more idea what to say than she did, but he finally just said, “Well—you have a good day. I know you’ll be fine. You always are.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling despite her doubts about either statement. “You too. I know things are gonna be exciting for both of us, all chained to our desks and all.”

Charlie chuckled, looked like he was thinking about giving her a hug but just settled on giving her arm a squeeze, and then went out the door. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky; it wasn’t merely raining out, it was more that thick, soupy stuff that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be rain or fog. She tugged her hood over her hair and plunged out into it, dashing for her truck and leaping inside where it may have still been cold, but at least it was dry.

There was a receding honk; she looked up to see Charlie flash his headlights as he backed out and pulled away, and she waved at him through her rear window. Then she cranked the engine; it roared like a tiger, throbbing beneath her feet, and she turned on the heat. She’d bought a car-kit yesterday on her foray into town, and so while the engine warmed up, she popped it in and plugged in her MP3 player, opting for something suitably upbeat in hopes of buoying her spirits (it wouldn’t work) and ending up listening to Oingo Bingo.

Finally deciding that she was stalling, just sitting there, she geared up both herself and the truck and pulled out of the driveway (only a little jerkily), and started to drive to school.

Her tires hissed over the wet pavement, and the slopping sounds of her wipers clearing the windshield kept time with “Weird Science” as she drove. The town was up and about despite the fact that it was still pretty dark out (although much of that was due to the cloud cover). Still, she’d made it a point to leave a bit early; the parking lot at the school was still mostly empty when she turned in, so she got a good spot. She had to admit, whatever she may find that Forks High School lacked, it certainly had plenty of charm. It was one of those old brick buildings that had a feel of real craftsmanship around it, not some modern, sterile kind of place like her school back in Phoenix was.

She clambered out of the cab and jogged through the wet and into the front doors. The building wasn’t as warm inside as she’d have liked; they must have traded draftiness for all that character on the outside. The office was already open, and so she went inside. The secretary she’d spoken to on Friday—Mrs. Cope—was sitting at her computer, and looked up at the sound of her entrance.

“Hi,” Bella said, doing her best to be pleasant. “I’m Isabella Swan.”

“Yes, you came in last week,” Mrs. Cope said with the assurance of a woman whose job description included remembering the names and faces of hundreds of teenagers, swiveling her chair around to a rather dangerous-looking stack of paper in the tray on her desk. Bella smiled and nodded in agreement as she approached the desk. Mrs. Cope had miraculously pulled a few papers from the precarious pile next to her without tipping it over and laid them out on the counter. “Here’s a copy of your schedule, and I’ll need you to get your teachers to sign this one,” she said, tapping the second one, “and bring it back to me at the end of the day. It’s just for our records to make sure that your teachers have officially put you in all their classes, so you don’t slip between the cracks.”

Bella nodded and gathered them up and thanked Mrs. Cope when she wished her a good day, and then escaped the office to go to her locker. It was a full-sized one that was nearly as tall as she was. That, at least, was a pleasant surprise; she’d been afraid the lockers would be in stacked rows like back home and she’d get stuck with one on the bottom.

She didn’t remember the combination—she was horrible with numbers—but she had come prepared with a sticky note with the numbers tucked in her backpack. Besides, all school lockers seemed to have the same pattern: right to some big number, back left to a smaller one, and then right again to an even bigger number, and open. Her fingers remembered the motions, even if she couldn’t remember where to stop. She dumped her papers and folders and whatnot inside the empty locker, and knew that she’d have a pile of books by the end of the day—all nice and ready for her to make a disaster out of the currently pristine space. It never failed; she’d have everything lined up and arranged, and then she’d just start willy-nilly throwing her junk in there, and before long she wouldn’t be able to find anything, and then she’d clean it up and the cycle would repeat. There was a comfortable familiarity about that, at least, so she didn’t mind.

Resigned to having her nose in her schedule all day, she pulled it out and looked for her first class. English III with Mason in building three. Honors English—but not AP. Bella had been very disappointed to find that Fork HS didn’t have nearly the complete AP program as did Central back in Phoenix. They had some of the advanced classes she planned on taking—Calculus, U.S. and World History—but to her intense frustration, there was no AP English or Chemistry. Those two tests alone could have been worth up to sixteen hours of college credit, and she’d had to give up on them. That was a whole semester’s worth of college classes that she’d had a chance to test out of—and wouldn’t have had to pay for after she graduated.

Thanks, Renée—really.

Oh, well—no use crying over spilt milk. And ultimately, moving up here have been her own idea, not Renée’s. Bella just told herself that in the long run it would be better for chemistry at least to be fresher in her mind, if she wanted a biochem degree. Now—on to English.

She already knew that she didn’t approve of having to go outside between every class, not with the weather being what it was (and what it always was up here). The moisture in the air had apparently finally made up its mind what it wanted to be, and now it was raining, and pretty heavily. Bella stood by the door and wadded her hair up into a haphazard sort of pile that she held up with the alligator clip that she kept in her bag, and then put up her hood, readied her umbrella, and went outside. The parking lot was filling up as she walked outside, a steady line of traffic flowing in, and there were students meandering into the buildings, chattering and laughing with that Forksian obliviousness to the perpetual rain.

The buildings were well marked, and she managed to find her way to Building 3 without too much trouble. Upon entering she found herself in a classroom—they all looked alike in the end, and she felt better because of it. Mrs. Mason was a roly-poly sort of woman with a short cap of dark hair and glasses; her desk was at the front of the room, and Bella went up to get her signature.

“Hello—I’m Bella Swan,” she said by way of introduction.

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Mason’s desk was painfully neat, and her grade book was sitting precisely in the center. She flipped through it; Bella saw her name written at the bottom of the class roster. “Isabella Swan—Bella, you say?” she asked, looking up, and at Bella’s nod, jotted down a note to herself. “Well, we don’t have a textbook that we use regularly; if we need them, I’ll loan them out. But you’ll need to get a journal for a response log.” At Bella’s nod, she asked, “Were you in an honors class before?”

“AP, actually,” Bella told her.

Mrs. Mason smiled ruefully. “I’ve been trying to get the AP program extended to English here, but so far the board and the students think that we’re just fine with plain Honors,” she said. “But, at any rate, if you were in an AP class, I’m sure you’re more than on track—here’s the syllabus,” she said, handing her a sheet of paper, “and if we run into any problems, I’m sure we can work it out. Now, one of my students dropped at semester, so there’s an open seat right there, fourth row, second from the right—why don’t you take that one?”

“Okay, thanks—and could you sign this, please? For the office?” she asked, proffering her signature sheet. Mrs. Mason obliged, and then Bella escaped to her seat.

Junior year was American Literature—goodie. Bella had never been one for more modern literature that had filled most of her last semester; call her old-fashioned, but she liked the dead white guys who weren’t quite so in vogue these days. And she would miss her Shakespeare; he was obviously not included in the American Lit roster. She scanned the reading list was relieved to see that her AP classes back in Phoenix had more than prepared her—she had already covered all the books that they’d done here last semester, and a few more besides. And she’d already read two of them slated for this semester.

Well, she wasn’t going to be behind in this class, at least. And they were starting off the semester with Nathaniel Hawthorne. She hoped it was a good omen—a dead white guy, first thing, just like she liked.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

And, truth was, it hadn’t been. English had been, well, English; things didn’t differ too much, she guessed, from one school to the next, not here in the days of standardized testing and national education programs. There was a brief moment of discomfort when Mrs. Mason had introduced her to the class, and Bella had suddenly found herself the focus of some twenty-odd pairs of eyes as all heads swiveled in her direction. She managed a wan smile and a little wave to everyone, and then all eyes were once again front as Mrs. Mason opened up her lecture.

She talked about Hawthorne, they were given his background and history, and then Mrs. Mason passed out copies of The Scarlet Letter. Bella declined; she already had one that she’d written all over from when she’d already had to analyze it last semester. She also had brought old her schoolwork with her; Renée always made fun of her for her compulsive rat-holing of all her old papers, but now, well—it was already her work, so it wouldn’t be cheating to use it for a little inspiration, now, would it?

The class passed fairly quickly, and the electronic bell went off with a nasal whine that never failed to seek out the nerves in her spine and cause it to stiffen. She collected her things and slipped out the door, and made her way to Building 6 for U.S. History.

Mr. Jefferson was a square-jawed fellow—actually, everything about him looked vaguely square, from his glasses and his moustache right down to the pattern on the really horrible tie he was wearing. But he was very pleasant, signing her form and sending her to an empty seat. The desks here all faced away from the teacher’s desk, instead pointing towards a podium at the other end of the room. He came to the back with her, and assigned her a massive tome of a textbook from the stacks in the cabinets, but assured her that it was more for studying for the tests, and that they rarely used it in class, so she shouldn’t worry about bringing it every day.

In History she found herself sitting behind the same girl she’d sat next to in English; she recognized her by her enormous mop of curly hair. Evidently Bella was recognized too, and when the other girl sat down, she turned a huge smile Bella’s way and said, “Hi! Bella Swan, was it?”

“Yeah,” Bella answered.

“I’m Jessica Stanley,” she said, her voice bright and her smile brighter.

“Hi,” Bella said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you too. What brings you to Forks?” she asked. “Most people move out, not in.”

“I moved up here to live with my Dad,” Bella answered, and she had a sneaking suspicion that she might have to repeat this particular Q&A session.

“Oh—you don’t mean the police chief, do you?” Jessica asked, her eyes lighting with recognition.

Bella smiled. “The same.”

Jessica giggled. “They make him come up every year when we’re having our drug-awareness week, and then again about drunk driving. Stu-Co always helps organize things, so I see him every year.”

Bella could only just imagine Charlie trying to deal with this whirling dervish. “Poor guy—he hates public speaking,” she said.

Jessica laughed again; she seemed prone to doing so. “I sort of got that idea,” she said confidentially, and Bella smiled back at her.

The bell rang before the conversation could really go any further, and Mr. Jefferson started his lecture. Bella was a bit dismayed to find that they seemed to be ahead of her here—her previous semester in Phoenix had stopped just after the Nullification Crisis, but here they were already to the Panic of 1837. She wrote furiously; Mr. Jefferson had an almost conversational style of lecture that was nonetheless packed with information, and so Bella did her best to copy down every word, the quality of her already dubious penmanship declining drastically the faster she went.

When the bell rang, she asked Jessica if she might get a copy of her notes—which Bella saw over her shoulder were done in the typical loopy but neat high school girl writing—up to where she hadn’t studied, and Jessica had been more than happy to oblige, telling her to catch her some morning or at lunch and they’d run to the office. Bella thanked her sincerely, and then dashed back to the main building to deposit the first of her new textbooks.

The math building was nearby, and the rain had slowed somewhat, so she wasn’t too terribly wet (or, at least, any more wet than she already was from her last walk outside) during trigonometry. The teacher Mr. Varner was a short, round little man who had a delightfully informal rapport with his students. He gave Bella book and just told her to sit wherever, and then started the class with an insult-ridden dialogue with a pair good-naturedly smart aleck boys who sat up front before starting his lecture. Math had been the class that Bella was most worried about, as catching up there was never easy. She was intensely relieved to find that she was just about spot on, actually one lesson ahead in what was the same book that she’d used back home.

Her Spanish class was back in the main building; the rain had all but stopped by the end of Trig, back to a slow, misty drizzle. Bella actually managed to dry off a little, letting her hair down from the messy knot (it promptly dried into a puffball of static).

Mrs. Goff, the Spanish teacher, was a tiny, dark-haired fireplug of a woman. She introduced Bella to the class, but thank goodness didn’t make her choose a different Spanish name, simply Spanish-izing her own name and calling her Isabel. They were using a different book here, so Bella wasn’t quite sure if she was ahead or behind, since the lessons were all different, but in the end decided just to roll with it. Spanish had never been difficult for her, as it was ultimately all just memorization, so she wasn’t too worried about her ability to keep up. When they were paired off to do dialogues with their new round of vocabulary words, Bella found herself partnered with a pale, long-limbed girl with short hair. Her name was Angela, and Bella recognized her from Trig. They used their requisite number of new words in a stilted Spanish conversation, and then Angela smiled and introduced herself, and Bella (as she had suspected she would) re-related the fact that she was Chief Swan’s daughter and untruthfully assured her that Forks was really great and that she was looking forward to her time here.

The bell for the junior and senior lunch period rang at noon, and with a rattle of papers and the thump of books the other students went boiling out of the room. Bella was slow about leaving, plodding out behind everyone, worrying the pad of her thumb between her teeth. She’d found herself dreading lunch as the day wore on, because in class she sort of had to sit next to people, which made her at least look like she belonged. At lunch she would have no such consideration.

Bella was glad, at least, that she didn’t have to walk outside for her afternoon classes. The halls of the main building were filled with the typical high school din of chatter and laughter and the crash of locker doors. Students went by in pairs and groups, weaving in and out of the crowds. The sound washed over Bella as she navigated the stream of students, and she suddenly found herself feeling very alone.

She shook herself and dropped off her two new books—thankfully neither as massive as History—and then, wallet in hand, migrated towards the cafeteria.

It was easy enough to find; one only had to follow the general racket. The double doors were covered it bright blue butcher paper and decorated with a sort of wintery theme, with a silver border and lots of big paper cutout snowflakes (which always made Bella reflexively twitch at the wrong number of points). Inside, it was smaller than what she was used to, and there were definitely fewer students than back at Central, but it still sounded the same, the room packed near to capacity and the roar of the students echoing off the walls so that she could barely hear herself think. She’d dawdled enough that the lines had dwindled, and she maneuvered herself into the hot line for some pizza, and found herself behind Angela—Angela Webber, she reminded herself.

“Hi,” said Bella, when Angela looked around.

“Oh—hi, Bella. Making it through the day all right?”

Bella smiled dryly as the line inched forward. “Oh, as well as you can in a new place, I suppose.”

Angela’s face was sympathetic. “I bet. Must’ve been hard to leave all your friends,” she said, snagging a piece of pizza from the line and depositing it on her tray.

Shrugging her shoulders, Bella grabbed some pizza as well and said, “Yeah, but all I can do is make the best of things.”

Angela scooted her tray down to the cash register at the end of the line and paid. Bella slid into her place when she’d finished and opened her own wallet to flash her ID to the lunch lady and pay for her pizza and lemonade, and looked up at Angela’s next words. “Well, do you want to come over and sit with us?” she said, tilting her head towards the many tables in the room.

A surge of rather pathetic gratitude filled Bella’s middle, and she nodded and said, “Sure!” hoping she didn’t sound too desperately eager. She fumbled her change and her ID back into her wallet in a haphazard wad and rushed over to where Angela was waiting patiently for her. Bella followed her as she wove through the round little tables, feeling a bit like a lost puppy but not caring at this point, and finally stopped at one near the middle of the room. It was mostly full, with one empty seat left.

“Hey, guys—is there room for two?” Angela asked.

“Sure thing!” A dark and particularly young-looking boy with rectangular-framed glasses that Bella recognized as one of Varner’s antagonists from this morning hopped up and had dragged over an extra chair before Bella had a chance to say anything, and then he was back, and everyone scooted closer to make room before looking up at Bella expectantly.

Angela slipped into one of the chairs, and Bella followed. “Guys, this is Bella Swan.” There was a chorus of hellos, and then Angela went around the table, introducing everyone, “That’s Ben Cheney,” she said indicating the chair-fetcher, who gave a mock dashing look before smiling and waving, “Mike Newton,” a long, tall blond boy who turned out to be the other cutup in Trig and who grinned toothily.

“Eric Yorkie” was next, a slim Asian boy with longish hair who said, “Hey-a, hon,” at her smile, and Angela rounded out the cast with, “Jessica Stanley.”

“Hey,” said Bella, waving back to Jessica’s seemingly ever-present 100-watt smile. “We’ve met. And thanks for squeezing me in.”

“Oh, no problem!” Jessica bubbled. “Say, after lunch we’ll have to run over to the copier, so you can get my history notes!”

“Thanks,” said Bella sincerely.

“Uh-oh—don’t tell me that that Phoenix schools have been surpassed by the bustling metropolis of Forks?” said Ben, raising an eyebrow.

Bella gave a wry grin. “Well, in that case, I’ll just have to say nothing at all—at least with regards to History.”

She actually got some smiles for that, and then afterwards she had to give the same answers to the same old questions: she was here with her dad, who was Chief Swan, yes, she missed Phoenix and all the sun, but yes, she liked Forks too. “Really, it’s not too huge of a change—I mean, it is,” she clarified, “but I’ve lived here for a month every year—just in the summers. It’s not like this is all totally new.”

They asked a few more questions, and Bella did her best to answer, but she wasn’t very good at being the center of attention, and the novelty of the new student wore off rather quickly. The conversation flowed around her, and she tried to keep up and offer input here and there, but truth was, she didn’t really know these people or what they were talking about. But she gamely listened anyway—they were nice enough to talk to her, and she thought that maybe she could at least sit with them at lunch, and maybe make an honest friend or two. They all seemed nice enough, and more her type, rather than the obnoxious bunch of Neanderthals with their vapidly giggling entourage of girls across the way—clearly the football team and the cheerleaders—or the brooding, dyed-haired bunch wearing all black as they slumped silently in the far corner.

Mike, as it turned out, was on the basketball team. Eric seemed to be big in the journalism department from his mentions of working on the school paper. Bella had gathered that Jessica was on the student council, and Angela was apparently in band. Ben had an off-beat, quirky sense of humor, and he and Mike played off of each other much like they had when tag-teaming Varner this morning, and even though she didn’t have much to contribute, Bella found herself laughing along with them as she ate.

As she wasn’t talking much, Bella finished her lunch rather quickly and rose to take out her tray, grabbing her wallet with one hand and telling the air around the table that she’d be right back. She got a cursory smile from Jessica, who then they went back to Eric’s story of some drama that was apparently going on in the yearbook staff with someone named Lauren who Bella didn’t know but gathered was a bit of a prima donna.

She wove her way through the milling students and the raucous tables to the trashcan and tray return, dumping her paper plate and the empty lemonade jug and setting her tray down. She inched back around the line behind her, looking out the window (the rain hadn’t started back up, that was good), and then she turned—and abruptly stopped.

She blinked; her way was blocked by a wall of muscle, and she looked up. And up. And up.

Bella felt her mouth falling open, and she gaped helplessly at the mountain of a man that stood before her—and “man” was the only word that could describe him, this towering behemoth that would look more at home in the professional wrestling circuit than in high school, and who was looking down at her with a vaguely amused expression on his face.

His…startlingly attractive face. Bella felt her cheeks starting to heat up, but she was frozen in place, pinned by the almost frighteningly intense stare. She didn’t know how long she stood there, slack-jawed and trembling for no reason that she could possibly fathom, before he tilted his head a little at her, a slow grin quirking one corner of his mouth, and he dropped her a sly wink.

Bella’s face had gone white at the sight of that disturbingly predatory smile, but then went stupidly, helplessly red at his wink—and then went white again when she saw the face that suddenly peered around his elbow.

It was a girl, and she was gorgeous. No, she was beautiful, with her cascade of golden hair and pouting red mouth and pale, perfect complexion—just the sight of her made Bella feel like a complete frump. And there was no missing the obviously proprietary arm she slid through the crook of boy’s elbow. Any other time this odd bit of drama would have amused Bella—she didn’t know who these people were, didn’t have any interest in the boy (well, okay, he was good-looking—very good looking—like, really—there was no getting around that), and as if she was any sort of competition for the knockout who was with him even if she did, but at the warning flash of the girl’s eyes, Bella actually had to fight to keep from cringing.

And then the boy moved as if to go around her, and she jumped; the motion was so sudden she didn’t know it was coming, and she squeaked and her wallet fell from her nerveless fingers. She scrambled for it; her hands were shaking. A low chuckle sounded from above her, and when she looked up, the boy’s smile widened. “Excuse us,” he said, his voice low and rolling like the sea, and then the two of them sidestepped her with a fluid ease that was as mesmerizing as it was unsettling, the girl shooting her one last glare that nearly set her knees to shaking.

She stood, frozen, before all but bolting.

What in the hell had that been? Okay, so she bumped into someone, and he was big (and he was really handsome, some traitorous part of her whispered), and he had a pretty girlfriend. So why did she feel alternately cold and hot and shaky all over, like she’d just run a red light and narrowly avoided a head-on collision?

She fell back into her seat with a thump and clenched her hands under the table, squeezing her wallet tight. The others were laughing and thankfully didn’t notice what had to be the rather shell-shocked look on her face. Mike was loudly voicing his complaints about English—he was in the regular class, it seemed, and had started reading Faulkner and hated it. As I Lay Dying—Bella recognized it, and when he went off about “my mother is a fish,” she actually managed a shaky smile, starting to feel a bit more like herself.

At least until the shadow fell over the table.

“Pardon me.”

The voice was a leonine rumble that seemed to shake Bella down to her shoes, and she twitched helplessly—but she wasn’t the only one. Mike and Ben stiffened in their seats, and then the entire table looked up as one.

He loomed over them, a great hulking golem with a mane of dark curls, dwarfing not only everyone at the table, but the table itself. His eyes roved the table, sharp and calculating, stopping on each occupant for an instant—before settling on Bella.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and her breath sped up as he spoke. “Miss Swan?”

“Yes?” She forced her throat to unlock, but her voice still croaked a little, and she coughed.

He smiled, his teeth white and sharp behind his lips. “I think you dropped this.” And in one massive hand he held out her student ID.

“Oh.” It must have fallen out when she dropped her wallet. “I—thanks.”

He extended his arm, the muscles rippling tantalizingly beneath the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt, and it was with a trembling hand that she reached up and snatched her ID away as quickly as possible, grabbing it with the tips of her fingers so as not to touch him.

His smile grew wider, and he swept the table once more with his eyes. Bella tore her own away and tried to look inconspicuous—only to see near everyone else at the table watching him with a blank sort of expression, Ben and Mike’s obviously nervous, while Eric, Angela, and Jessica were looking up at him with a sort of breathless wonder.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and then he turned and loped away, gliding over the floor with an ease that belied his size; the other students parted before him, as though shying away as he passed, even thought Bella could see them watching him covertly. He walked not to the table with the football players and the cheerleaders, as she might have expected, but towards one on the far side of the room that was pulled away from the others and, now that she was looking, was given a wide berth by the rest of the cafeteria.

When he left, it was as if a heavy, suffocating blanket had been pulled off of the entire table, and everyone there seemed to straighten, but no one seemed to have much to say anymore. It was finally Mike who broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well—nice of him to drop in and liven up the conversation.”

The joke was weak, as was his voice, but the tension at the table broke with a nearly audible snap, and everyone smiled, even if it was a little forced.

“Who is that guy?” Bella wanted to know, casting a covert glance towards his table, plucking at her necklace as cover for her urge to press her hand against her chest to calm her heart. She was at least glad to see that she wasn’t the only one who seemed to feel the strange, almost sinister air that he exuded from his otherwise stunning shape.

“Emmett Cullen,” said Mike, making a face, “and he gives me the creeps.”

“Just him?” asked Ben dryly.

“No—all of them,” Mike agreed, jerking his head in the direction of the isolated table.

Bella’s eyes flickered over in that direction again; there were five people clustered at the far table, one of which was clearly the stunning blonde. “All?” she asked.

Jessica seemed to shake herself. “Yeah—Dr. Cullen, over at the hospital, he and his wife apparently adopted all those kids.” She frowned. “They’re a bit snobby; they don’t really talk much to anybody.”

“Why would you want to?” Mike demanded.

Jessica flushed a little, and Mike looked disgusted as Eric said snidely, “Gee, I wonder—maybe because he’s gorgeous?”

“But they’re kind of weird—I think they’re all stoned half the time, really,” Angela said confidentially. “They always look kind of strung out—pale, dark circles under their eyes, and always…kind of spacey.”

“Especially Alice,” said Jessica. “She’s nuts. And just as creepy.” She seemed to shake herself, and then looked up at the clock. “Anyway—lunch is over in a few minutes—Bella, did you want to go—?”

“Oh—to the office?” Bella finished for her. “Yeah—that’d be great.”

But they didn’t stand immediately, because just then a breath of cold air seemed to waft over them; all five occupants of the far table had risen as one and moved across the cafeteria and out, the students again clearing away before them as they stalked across the room and out of sight. But once they were gone, Jessica smiled, and Bella smiled back, and they got up and went to the office, the rain still holding off as they left the cafeteria and returned to the main building.

By the time they had copied Jessica’s notes over the years of history that Bella was missing, they were both back to themselves, Jessica prattling on about this, that, and the other thing, and Bella holding up her end by making all the right noises at the right times, courtesy of years of practice with Renée. They’d just finished by the time the bell signaling the end of lunch rang, and so Bella thanked her and went to drop the notes in her locker and get her backpack and find her next class.

The halls were loud and full again, and she rummaged around in her bag until she found her schedule—Biology II. She wasn’t really looking forward to this one. It was one thing to come down to a regular honors class from AP, but here she was going from an honors class to a regular one. And call her an intellectual snob, but she did hate regular classes—she hated the slow pace, the endless repetition, and the complete idiots that always seemed to fill them.

But there was nothing for it, so she just shouldered her backpack and headed down the hall, which was lined with pictures of the graduating seniors of years past. She found the Biology classroom; all the science labs were tucked down at the end of one corridor. The building was old, but these rooms had the feel of being recently renovated, with rows of shiny black lab benches that seated two for a pair to partner in labs. The bright white walls were covered with posters of cells and drawings of animal and human cross sections, and a periodic table and diagrams of the phylogenetic tree, and the shelves had stuffed animals and things in jars, and there was a glass tank on the far wall that looked to be holding something alive but she couldn’t see what it was.

Well—it looked like Mr. Banner at least tried to keep things interesting. And Bella saw Angela sitting near the front and waved, so she knew there was at least one student with a brain in here—although there was a big gorilla of a boy braying with laughter at his own apparent cleverness in having just kicked the chair out from under his skinny, sallow-faced neighbor, so the class clearly had its share of morons as well.

Mr. Banner was a long, thin fellow positively a-quiver with repressed energy, his eyes bright behind his glasses, and he gave every impression of being simply thrilled to have Bella in his class. “All right, Miss Isabella Swan!” he said, drumming on the edge of his desk and making a mark in his grade book before swiveling his chair toward the stack of textbooks behind him.

“I just go by Bella,” she said for the fifth time today.

“Okay—Miss Bella Swan it is,” he said, swinging back around with a book in hand, which he turned over to her after marking the number next to her name. Bella gave him her slip to sign, which he did with a flourish, and then looked up. “So, let’s see…there’s your book, and here’s your syllabus,” and he handed it to her, “and there’s an empty seat back there by the snake tank—back there next to Edward Cullen.”

Cullen?

It was with a sinking feeling that she looked to the back of the room by the aquarium, and flushed. Sure enough, it was one of those Cullens—the abnormally pretty ones, which to her consternation she could see that he definitely was, even from across the room. And, if the way he was sitting languidly in his chair with his eyes swinging slowly around the room as if waiting to strike was any indication, he was just as creepy. His eyes traveled briefly over her and then moved on, lingering for the briefest of moments, a tiny furrow creasing the smooth expanse of his forehead but otherwise without acknowledging her. She still let out a deep breath when his eyes finally passed over her and went back to lazily scanning the room. She swallowed once before wanly smiling at Mr. Banner and thanking him, and then squared her shoulders and made her way towards the back of the room.

She flicked her eyes from side to side as she walked down the aisle, nodding at Angela again, and oh, there was Mike too—apparently without an honors class to sequester the more dedicated students, the regular class didn’t consist of only stoners and cretins—and she smiled at him, which he cheerily returned. She refused to acknowledge the fact that she was looking anywhere but where she was going to be sitting until she arrived at her destination and dropped her bag with a thump and plonked into her seat.

She found herself sitting right beneath the air vent, and it blew her hair—gone limp with the rain, of course—all over the place; with a huff of annoyance she bundled it up into a staticky mess on top of her head and clipped it back. And then, as it was either now or never, she straightened up and, despite her reddening cheeks at the thought of talking to him, turned to introduce herself to her new lab partner.

And she froze, her mouth hanging open, the words lodged in her throat.

Edward Cullen’s face—which was even more stunning at close range—was no more than a foot away from her own, his body tense and quivering and half out of his seat, nearly hovering over her. His eyes were huge black holes in his bloodless face, and they were trained on her. His lips were trembling, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth; his breathing was staccato and irregular, his muscles knotted and his fists clenched as he stared at her.

Bella shrank down in her seat, and to her horror, he seemed to follow the movement, leaning down and in, looming over her, and a low, almost animalistic growl seemed to bubble up from his chest.

What—what was he doing?! Bella’s own heart was hammering wildly against her chest, so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear it. Dimly she heard the bell ring, but all she could see were the wide, burning eyes that pinned her to her seat, and all she could hear was the roar of her own blood in her ears.

Was he drooling?!

He was—a little runnel of saliva had dribbled down his chin, and she could see it, reflecting in the lights above her, and he was getting closer, and what was he going to do to her?!

“Okay, now, class, I know Christmas break was fun, and all, but now it’s time for SCIENCE!”

Mr. Banner’s voice seemed to break something in Cullen’s eyes; they went even wider than they had been, to the point that Bella could see the whites all around—the pupils were so dilated that all she could see was a thin ring of color around them. And then, as if he had to fight for every inch, he turned, almost in slow motion, until his back was to her, and she saw him swing up his hand and clap it over his nose and mouth.

Bella couldn’t hear anything, just sat frozen in her seat. What—what?! What was that?! What in the hell was wrong with him?! She seemed to snap back to herself, and for a moment all she wanted was to run. While she squashed the impulse, she did put as much distance between herself and the freak next to her as possible, and she didn’t try to hide it, either. Cullen gave no sign that he saw her, didn’t move an inch, didn’t even appear to be breathing as he trembled where he sat.

Flushed and shaking, Bella gripped her pencil and tried to pay attention to the lecture, but how on earth could she when she was sitting next to a madman? “A little spacey,” Angela had said? Try psychotic! He wasn’t just stoned—he had to be strung out on PCP or something!

Anger was crowding up around her fright, and her face flushed and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. What did he think he was doing, anyway, pushing up in her face and—and panting at her—who did he think he was?

Bella clenched her pencil and took furious notes, determined not to look to her left. She tried to keep her head in the class, but the lecture topic wasn’t helping; she was over a month ahead in this class, already knew the process of cell division forwards and backwards—had since Biology I, even. She wrote anyway, not really paying much attention to anything except not paying attention to Cullen.

But she couldn’t help it when the cycling heater kicked on again and she shrugged off her coat; a sudden movement caught her eye, and before she could catch herself she looked—and there he was again, one hand clenched on the back of his seat, and all of Bella’s righteous anger fled in the face of his near murderous expression, and she thought she heard the wood beneath his fingers creak in protest, and he was leaning towards her again, leaning in, and his hand was moving, and her breath hitched—

“Hey, there in the back—want to pay attention up here? You can introduce yourselves later!”

The long-fingered hand that had been reaching for her stopped midway, and then Cullen jerked it back and swung around—but not before Bella saw him jam it into his mouth and sink his teeth into the meat between his forefinger and thumb.

The class crawled by; the slightest motion from next to her made her jump. She was all but hanging out in the aisle trying to get as far away from him as possible. She didn’t hear a word of lecture, rather devoting her time to watching for the slightest sign that Cullen might try to—do whatever he was going to do—again.

She was poised to run, watching the clock with bated breath, and yet, when the bell finally rang and her heart leapt with relief—it was Cullen who moved. And he moved so fast that his chair was thrown backwards and away from him across the floor, and she jumped a mile at the sound as he flew around the bench and out of the room so fast that hardly anyone else had even managed to stand up yet.

Bella sat, blinking, and then a rush of relief so powerful that it left her limp in her chair surged through her. She gathered up her notes with shaking hands, and then stood and lurched toward the door.

“Hey, Bella—what did Edward—hey, are you okay?” Angela had come up behind her, and her slightly amused tone quickly gave way to concern when she got a glimpse of Bella’s face.

Bella turned to her. “Dear God—what was he on?!” she demanded, rushing out of the classroom, Angela following close by.

“Who—Edward?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

“Yes! He was acting crazy!” Bella exclaimed, her nerves making her shrill.

Angela looked bewildered. “Well—I told you, the Cullens are all kind of weird, but they don’t bother anybody—”

“‘Don’t bother anybody’?” Bella repeated incredulously. “Didn’t you see him? He was breathing down my neck!”

Angela’s dubious expression lifted a little bit. “Well, you know, there are a lot of girls who wouldn’t mind one of the Cullen boys breathing on them,” she joked.

Bella snorted derisively. “Well, I do! He was freaking me out!” she snapped.

Angela didn’t seem to know what to say. Bella was a bit indignant that she seemed to be trying to placate her, trying to gloss over Cullen’s spaz attack—didn’t she see that he looked like he was going to jump her?! Still shaken but getting angry again, Bella parted ways with Angela and went to her locker. She was so thoroughly rattled that she barely mustered up the outrage she’d felt last week upon finding out that she was going to have to take two more years of P.E., something that she’d thought she was done with after her two years in Phoenix.

She hurried out to the gym through the persistent drizzle, keeping her eyes peeled for that wacko and ready to run at a moment’s notice. She didn’t see him, thankfully—and he wasn’t in her gym class. Coach Clapp, the typical football coach-cum-teacher, scrounged her up a uniform that smelled of stale sweat and mothballs, but fate apparently decided to give her a break, because he didn’t make her dress down for class today, but said that she could wait to wash it and just sit this one out.

So Bella did, perching up in the stands and trying to regain her shattered equilibrium. Her eyes vaguely followed the four volley balls that were soaring over the four games that were going on at once, but she watched without seeing them.

And she had to sit by that nutjob again tomorrow—and for every day of the rest of the year! If it happened again, she was going to complain—get herself transferred out of the class or something. Or maybe she’d just report him to Charlie and get him busted for possession of whatever he was taking to make him act like that. Something—she didn’t think she could take that again. It would have been bad enough to be stared at like that by anyone, but that it was Cullen made it worse—the thick aura of menace around him robbed her of her sense. She didn’t know what it was, but just being near him made her want to run, to dash into a hole in the ground like a mouse that had just heard the rushing wings of a hawk above it.

Mercifully, the bell finally rang, and she fled the gym with her funky old uniform. She made it back to her locker in record time and gathered up her Trig and biology books and tossed them into her bag and then navigated the bustling hallways towards the main office. Mrs. Cope was still there, and she took her signed form and asked her how her day had gone.

“Great,” Bella said, with false enthusiasm of long practice. “Really great.”

She made her escape out of the closeness of the press of people on all sides and out into the cool air; it was just starting to really rain again. There was her truck, and she made a beeline for it, glad now more than ever that she had a close parking place, because that just meant she was that much closer the dry haven of the cab.

She jogged across the parking lot, but faltered mid-step. Just one row away, she could see a group clustered around an SUV, leaning inside as if in a huddle, and she spotted Emmett Cullen’s massive bulk among them. And before she could look away, something inside moved—

And she saw Edward Cullen lift his face from where he had it pressed against the passenger-side dash, and he looked up, and he saw her.

There was a flash of something terrifying in his face that robbed her of breath and sent her heart into her throat; in the next instant, Emmett had launched himself inside, almost tackling Edward and cramming the both of them in the back seat. The other boy with them followed, vaulting into the back as well, and the tiniest one, a girl, looked around and seemed to stare right at Bella for a moment before slithering into the passenger seat. The blonde Bella saw earlier sprang into the driver’s seat and slammed the door; the engine roared to life, and Bella jumped as the car went peeling across the lot and then right up over the curb and across the grass and out into the street.

Bella stared after them, gaping—as were several others—before going to her truck and wrenching the door open. She threw her bag in, and then threw herself in after it, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath, resting her head on the steering wheel.

Well. That was sure one hell of a first day.

Chapter Text

After that first day, the rest of Bella’s week was blissfully uneventful.

She’d gone home Monday afternoon, distinctly rattled—but in the safety of her own home, that psycho seemed a lot less menacing. She’d been surprised at how easily she’d managed to put him out of her mind, instead focusing on her math homework. Her new desk, as it turned out, was very spacious and good for work. She’d have to make sure to tell Charlie.

After finishing her Trig, she dragged out the plastic bins that contained her schoolwork from Phoenix for this year. She found that she didn’t feel too terribly guilty for fishing out her English papers, old notes and essays and response logs and such. Just for that little bit of “inspiration.”

As she was putting the bins away, a glance at the clock told her that Charlie would be getting off work soon, so she meandered downstairs to start dinner. Having been the chief cook and bottle-washer at home ever since she was old enough to be in the kitchen had given her a certain flair on the timing, at least. Charlie had seemed almost startled to walk into the house and find the kitchen warm and smelling of rosemary and garlic. But when she set down a plate of chicken and potatoes and green beans for him, he’d beamed at her and told her that he could definitely get used to this.

“So—how was your first day?” he’d asked as he tucked in.

“Oh, fine,” Bella replied easily. Charlie didn’t nag like Renée, but she could tell by his look that he wanted more detail than that. “Got in all my classes, and was pretty much caught up in all of them. Was actually ahead in most; the only one I was behind in was History, but I borrowed someone’s notes, so I should be fine.”

“Were the other kids all right?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded around a mouthful of potatoes. “All very friendly, and some made me a place at lunch, so I wasn’t by myself.”

Charlie seemed happy with that and so applied himself to his dinner in earnest, leaving Bella to scowl at her beans. She hadn’t said anything about Edward Cullen, because she didn’t particularly want to (actually, she’d just about forgotten about him until Charlie asked about the other kids at school)—but also because she didn’t know what she would say if she did. She couldn’t tell Charlie he was on drugs, ‘cause she had no proof, and…what would she say other than that, anyway? “Oh, by the way, Dad, there was this one nut in my class who got up all in my face and drooled and acted like he was going to grab me, but he didn’t.” Yeah, that’d do it, she thought dryly.

In the end she hadn’t said anything. They’d finished up, and after a brief standoff over who was going to do the dishes, they eventually compromised with Charlie doing the scrubbing and Bella drying and putting them away. Then she’d sent him off with a cup of coffee and an ice cream bar (a long-standing vice of his, one that Bella was happy to share) to watch TV. She’d wandered upstairs to send Renée an email detailing her day, emphasizing the good points and skipping anything bad, and then had gone down to plop in front of the TV with Charlie. She didn’t really watch it, but she didn’t have much else to do.

It had been a quiet evening, and after an hour or so, she had gone upstairs to shower. Her day had worn her out more than she thought, she’d realized, and so after puttering around on the internet for a little while, she’d just gone to bed.

The next morning had been alike enough to Monday’s to almost feel like déjà vu. She’d been awakened by Charlie taking his shower, had gone back to sleep, only to be jolted awake again by her alarm. She’d dragged herself out of bed and gotten ready like before, only this time she was alone in the house when she came down; she’d spotted Charlie backing down the driveway in his cruiser as she was packing up her books.

She’d wolfed down her breakfast, bundled up against that same cold, nasty drizzle, and made her way to school. The morning classes were the same, she said hi to the same people she’d met yesterday, took the same sorts of notes during lectures, used the same paths between buildings and classes.

It was only at lunchtime that something a bit different happened. She was alone in the line, paying for her sandwich, apple, and granola bar…when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her spine stiffened. She deliberately tucked her wallet away, picked up her tray, and turned around—

Bella nearly froze where she stood, pinned to the ground by four pairs of glittering eyes that watched her from the table to the side. The Cullens—every single one of them at their table—were looking at her. Staring at her.

Her heartbeat gave a thud that she felt in her ears, and she quickly turned away, propelling herself in the opposite direction and fighting the bizarre urge to run under the press of those eyes on her back. She squeezed in between Mike and Eric at the table from yesterday, nervously returning their smiles, but when she flicked her eyes once more to the other side of the room, they were all going about their business, talking to each other as if nothing had happened, and Bella was left wondering if she’d actually imagined their eyes on her.

It wasn’t until she had eaten half her sandwich that it had actually registered that there had been only four of them. A surreptitious glance over Eric’s shoulder revealed that they weren’t watching her anymore, and that one of their number was conspicuously absent. Emmett’s towering bulk was unmistakable, and next to him was his stunning blonde girlfriend. On the opposite side of the table was a lean and tall boy with tight yellow curls, and just visible on his other side was the top of a tiny dark head.

Edward Cullen was nowhere to be found.

That thought, she found, had a profoundly relaxing effect on her, and although she told herself not to get her hopes up, she was relieved enough to get into the gossip about the lab accident that the seniors had gotten into in chemistry earlier that morning.

Still, it had been with a certain amount of dread that Bella had gathered up her bag and books for Biology. She’d woven her way through the halls, her head down, and with a deep breath swung into the Biology lab—

Her bench was empty.

She hadn’t been able to help the tiny smile and sigh of relief that escaped her; she all but skipped to the bench at the back of the room to sit down, waving cheerily at Mike and Angela as she passed. She kept a weather eye on the door, tensing any time anyone walked in the door, but the bell rang and Mr. Banner called the class to order, and still, she was all alone at her bench.

She’d never thought she could be so cheerful while taking notes on cell division. Not even being forced to put on her newly-washed (but still funky) gym uniform and take turns shooting (and missing) layups all during her next period could ruin her mood after that.

And the rest of the week passed nearly the same. Bella found her stride, settled into her routine, and classes continued apace—with no Edward Cullen. Not any Cullens, really; after that first day, the others didn’t so much as glance her way. She found herself relaxing, joining the lunchtime conversations more easily, and by the end of the week didn’t even need her map and schedule and locker combination sticky-note any more. It was, all in all, a wonderfully boring week.

Well, almost. There was one thing. She couldn’t really call it a full-blown “event,” though. Just a little radar blip. It had been Thursday morning after Trig. It had actually been dry that day, if still overcast, and Bella’s mood had improved accordingly. The bell had rung, and she’d bundled her books up in her bag. Mike was up at Varner’s desk, arguing about something on his homework, and Varner informed him that he was a dingleberry, and Bella laughed. She was looking over her shoulder as she opened the door, something that she’d have thought seventeen years of near comical clumsiness would have taught her not to do, but apparently not. She pushed open the door with her shoulder, and unbeknownst to her, her backpack strap got caught in the crashbar and the resulting jerk as she tried to go down the steps nearly pulled her off her feet. Any normal human being would have simply turned around and extricated herself. But not Bella, no, she had to step backwards—and right off the edge of the short flight of steps that led to the building.

She’d had that brief, awful moment of clarity mid-fall, just long enough for her to realize that she was about to tumble two feet down into the damp dirt but not long enough for her to stop it—when with a sudden jolt, she had stopped.

Freezing mid-flail, she realized that she’d fallen against something, something like an iron bar against her side, propping up her entire weight to hover where she’d have otherwise gone down in what would have no doubt been a very embarrassing, very painful sprawl.

With an undignified flop or two, she managed to right herself, and it was as she sought for something to push off of to stand up, she realized that her entire weight was being held up not by the sudden appearance of a handrail, but rather by a tiny, slender arm, barely larger than a child’s.

She gave a chuff of surprise (she wasn’t exactly a featherweight) and felt a relieved smile start to spread across her face, turned—and froze.

The arm was attached to a tiny, doll-like little creature who Bella would not have recognized on sight save for one, critical detail: with her pale, ethereal beauty and dark-circled eyes, she could have only been one of the Cullens.

Bella was not particularly tall, but even she towered over this girl—why, then, did she feel like cringing as those mad orange eyes roved over her?

Her tongue a bit thick in her cottony mouth, Bella had pulled hastily away from her and said, “Thank you.”

The girl just looked up at her, unblinking, and cocked her head sharply to the side with a quick, birdlike motion. She made no other move, and certainly none to get out of the way, just staring up at Bella from where she stood on the steps beneath the tiger-striped umbrella resting on her shoulder despite the lack of rain.

Bella had felt a rather uncomfortable prickling breaking out on the back of her neck, and she jumped a mile when the door behind her suddenly swung open. It was Mike, having ended his argument with Varner one way or another, and Bella was profoundly glad to see him.

Until, at least, she realized that he wasn’t going to be any help at all. With the sudden sound of the door, the little Cullen girl had finally torn her unfocused gaze away from Bella, and when Mike had looked up from his paper to see her standing there, it was his turn to stop short.

Only he didn’t look frozen and uncomfortable like Bella must have, oh no—his jaw went slightly soft and slack, and his eyes wide and a bit dazed. And then he straightened up, and Bella blinked in bewildered incredulity to see that he was actually pulling himself up to his full height and puffing out his chest even as a dopey grin broke over his face and he said rather fatuously, “Hi, Alice.”

Alice, apparently, looked at him for a moment too, but then she grinned, her mouth stretched so wide over her rows of blindingly white teeth that it was nearly a grimace. “Hi, Mike!” she said, her voice odd and loud.

And there they stood, Alice grinning creepily and Mike grinning stupidly, until Bella loudly cleared her throat.

“Uh, excuse me,” she said, her voice loud. “I think we’d better get to class.”

“What?” Mike sounded like he was waking up from a dream. “Oh, yeah. Class.” He made no move to go, though.

Bella’s words had had the unfortunate effect of bringing Alice’s unsettling stare back to her. But this time it was short-lived, because Alice abruptly blurted, “Bye!” and then zipped around Bella and into the math building and was gone.

Bella shook her head as she stabbed her fork into the remnants of her salad (as a compromise with the carnivorous bachelor Charlie, Friday night was green food night). Weird people, all of them.

The clatter of Charlie dropping his fork onto his empty plate made her look up. He caught her look and smiled. “Well, Bells, got to hand it to you—for being rabbit food, that was a pretty darn tasty.”

She chuckled. “I told you,” she said, waving her forkful of lettuce at him with great seriousness, “anything becomes tasty when you add bacon.” She ate her bite for emphasis.

Charlie smiled, his eyes crunching up in the corners, and then heaved himself out of his seat. “Well, you finish up, then—I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Bella didn’t have much left and polished off the remnants of her dinner in time to help him wash up. After drying his hands, Charlie leaned back on the counter and looked at her with a speculative eye. “What’re you doin’ this evening, then?” he asked.

Bella looked up and then shrugged. “Dunno. I did my math today, but I still have some English to do.”

Charlie made a dismissive noise. “It’s Friday night—you have all weekend to do your homework,” he informed her.

She crossed her arms and gave him a wry smile. “Maybe when all you’re taking is typing and shop,” she teased.

He scowled at her, but then grinned. “Well, do you want to do more homework?”

Bella pulled a face. “No,” she admitted, caught.

Charlie grinned. “Well, then,” he said, sauntering over to the phone cabinet by the breakfast room table and sliding open a drawer. Bella watched him, and he turned around and brandished a deck of cards. “How about you come over here and let your old Dad clean the floor with you at cribbage?”

Bella blinked, and then a feral grin broke out on her face. “Oh, you are so on!” she laughed, and ran over to drag out the board and their beaten old pad filled with scores of games past.

Charlie had already sat back down and was shuffling; he always did, a holdover from their earliest games when she was little and still didn’t know how. The cards were a newer deck, she noticed, their edges sharp and their red backs glossy, not the battered old blue ones she remembered from last summer. Glancing down at the score pad as she returned to her seat, she noticed that it was open to a page that was dated just a couple of weeks ago and filled with columns of numbers and tallymarks pitting “C.S.” against “C.C.”

Curious, she flipped over the older pages and found several more with games against C.C. before getting back into their old scores from her visit last year. Charlie had often lamented to Bella that cribbage seemed to be a dying game; that was half the reason he’d taught her, just to pass on his knowledge (the other half being that he wanted someone to play with). “You finally find a new partner in town?” she asked, looking up at him as she flipped over the pages to a fresh one.

“Hmm?” Charlie looked up, then down at the pad. “Oh, yeah,” he said, offering her the deck; she paused to cut and then went back to putting the pegs back at the start. “Doctor Cullen, up at the hospital. He comes by now and again for a few games.”

The name brought Bella up short. “Cullen?” she asked.

“Yep.” Charlie started tossing out their hands. “Moved here a few years ago. His kids go to the high school, as I recall—you met any of ‘em?”

Bella smiled thinly. “I’ve run into a few kids with that name, yeah.”

Charlie laid down the crib and set the neatened deck to the side. “Anyway, kinda ran into him in our lines of work—filing police reports for accidents and stuff—and we sorta started having coffee from time to time. Found out that he enjoys cribbage too, but no one else in his family plays, so we started having a game now and again.” He gave an exaggerated grimace. “And he plays a mean hand, too, let me tell you,” he said, gesturing to the pad. “Good thing he stuck with our usual one cent per point, or else he’d take me to the cleaners.” He gave her a sly grin. “But now it’s my turn to whip up on somebody.”

Bella bared her teeth at him, and then grinned, and the subject of any of the Cullens was set aside for the evening in favor of their game.

The kitchen timer went off with a loud beep, and Bella hastily put down the devilled egg she was filling and grabbed her oven mitts. The chicken wings were crisp and sizzling, and she pulled them out of the oven and doffed her mitts to put them into the large bowl sitting to the side. As she poured the hot sauce over them and started tossing them, she heard a huge shout rise up from the living room, easily audible over the Thompson Twins piping through her headphones, and couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Jacob and Billy had told the truth—Saturday was game day at the Swan house, what with Charlie’s big new TV, and so here they were, grouped around the living room coffee table and swimming in testosterone. The Seattle Seahawks had made it into the Super Bowl playoffs this year, and tension was apparently high.

Bella really wasn’t all that interested in sports. She thought it might have been different if she was the more sporty type, but aside from her brief stint on the middle school basketball team (which ended when it became obvious that despite having a pretty good head for defense, she couldn’t hit the basket to save her soul—and even then, her defense was compromised by her tendency to fall on her butt when she tried to make a rebound), she simply wasn’t. So she’d volunteered to play the domestic type instead and provide the food while the boys sat out there and thumped their chests and roared at the TV.

Chips and dip and trail mix were already out there—the devilled eggs and hot wings would provide the more substantial lunch-like food (she had a small veggie tray too, but she suspected that she would be the only one to pay much attention to that). It was nearly half-time, so she was sure it would be in demand.

She gave one last dubious look at the enormous bowl of chicken wings before going back to her devilled eggs. She was doubtful they would all get eaten, and had expressed her reservations to Charlie when she’d gone shopping and he’d told her to buy so much food. He had dryly informed her that she only thought that because she hadn’t grown up with a brother—and then amended his statement, because apparently not even having a brother of her own could prepare her for the one-man trash compactor that was Jacob Black.

She finished up with the eggs and on the next crest of shouting, put away her MP3 player and made her way out into the living room with the chicken and the eggs. One look at the table told her that Charlie may well have been right—both the baskets of chips and trail mix were down to the dregs, and the dip and salsa were nearly gone, and yet when he managed to tear his eyes away from the screen, Jacob’s face broke out into a huge grin at the sight of her, and he exclaimed, “All right—soup’s on!”

“Yep,” she agreed, depositing her plates and picking up the bowls and baskets to refill them. By the time she came back out with more chips and the vegetables, the first half had ended and the wing bowl already had a significant dent in it.

“Thanks, Bells,” said Charlie as she dropped off the food and sat down to the side; the living room was noticeably cooler than the stuffy kitchen, which she definitely approved of.

“No problem,” she said cheerfully—and it wasn’t. She liked cooking, and liked cooking for other people even better.

“Ah—now this is a heck of a deal you’ve got going here, Charlie,” Billy commented as he dug into the chips. He looked up and smiled at her. “You’re going to spoil us.”

“Yeah—a woman who knows to stay in the kitchen—I didn’t think they made those any more!” Jacob said, smirking at her. Bella gave him a withering look but didn’t deign to reply, just dug around in the ice bucket for a beer. Charlie was the police chief, but he’d also been raised Catholic, and so as long as she was with him, he didn’t object to her having a beer now and again, or maybe a glass of wine if it was available. She hadn’t liked the taste when she was younger and had first been given permission, but she’d drank it anyway just for the thrill of feeling like she was doing something illicit—and because it always gave her a nice sense of camaraderie with Charlie, like he was treating her like a grownup. These days, though, she still didn’t precisely like it—but over the years the taste had grown on her and she honestly enjoyed having a cold one now and again.

Jacob seemed to have a similar arrangement, and he raised his own beer in her direction as she popped the top. “Seriously, Bella—this is great,” he said, smiling, and they tapped the lips of their cans together.

“Well, I aim to please,” she said, making herself a plate. She flicked a glance towards the TV. “What’s going on—how are we doing?”

“Rams are ahead, 14-10,” Charlie answered. “They took an early lead but Hasselbeck threw a touchdown in the second quarter—closed the gap a bit.”

Bella nodded, only half-comprehending. The volume was down over the halftime show, and for a while the only sounds were the low murmuring of the quiet commentators and the sounds of their chewing, punctuated by the occasional belch from Jacob (Billy had admonished him to mind his manners the first time, since there was a lady present, and Jacob looked abashed, until she’d grinned at him, taken a big swig of her beer, and managed a small but respectable burp right back at him).

Watching Jacob eat, Bella could only agree with Charlie’s previous assessment—with the possible modifier that there was nothing that could have prepared her for how Jacob ate. A spare paper plate in the middle of the table was turning into a veritable graveyard of chicken bones, and all picked gleamingly clean. He’d probably eaten half the eggs himself, and had actually dug into the carrots and the peanut butter-filled celery, too.

“Does he have a hollow leg, or something?” she was unable to help herself from asking Billy.

Jacob paused his voracious eating long enough to give her a sour look; Billy just laughed. “A hollow everything, more like it,” he answered. “Keeping that boy fed is a full-time job.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jacob said loftily.

Bella, whose love of sweets, general un-athleticism, and overly-generous hips and bust had left her solidly stuck at a size ten for the past two years, was rather jealous, actually. But she just shook her head and said, “Well, will you actually have room for dessert?”

Jacob let out another tremendous belch, grinning cheekily at his dad as he did so, and said, “What do you think?”

“I think I’d better get it out here before you start chewing on the upholstery,” she said dryly, standing and starting to collect plates, along with Jacob’s boneyard.

“Yeah, woman, get in the kitchen and get me my dessert!”

One whack upside the head from his father later, Jacob was up helping her take the empty dishes to the kitchen. Bella found herself blessing the ingrained bachelorhood inherent in these watch-parties; just tossing paper plates in the trash was a welcome shortcut for future cleanup duty.

Jacob was by her side like a shot when he saw her pull the big plate of brownies out from the microwave where she’d stashed them last night. His attempts to snag one immediately were roundly rebuffed with a nun-like slap on the wrist. After a bit of half-hearted whining that she ignored, he simply followed her out as close as humanly possible, hovering over her shoulder like a vulture all the way back to the living room.

“Dessert,” she announced, with an admitted dash of pride. “Man-catcher brownies.”

Billy gave a great guffaw of laugher. Jacob grinned as he snatched up two in one hand. “What, do you write your name and number on them in icing and then set them out as bait?” he asked.

“No need,” said Charlie dryly. “My house smelled so good last night when she was baking them that I was worried I’d have ‘em showing up on my doorstep.”

Jacob took an enormous bite, before his face went slack with rapture. “Oh, man, Bella,” he said, his voice muffled by a much-too-large bite of chocolate. “You’ve definitely caught me.”

Charlie gave a rather rude snort, but Bella just smirked at him. “Told you,” she said.

Billy had tucked into a brownie of his own. “So, Bella—was meaning to ask you about your first week of school.” He winked at her as he raised his brownie to his mouth. “You caught any boys up there yet?”

It was her turn to snort, in no small part because of the sudden scowl that crawled across Charlie’s face. “Right,” she said dryly.

Billy caught the crumbs from his brownie in the napkin that he’d wrapped around it. “Hey—just take some of these in,” he said, holding his aloft. “They’ll come a-runnin’.”

“I think they’d have to be ‘special brownies’ for that stoner weirdo in my Biology class,” she said without thinking.

Jacob laughed aloud, but even as Billy rolled his eyes, she saw that the frown on Charlie’s face was genuine this time. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Bella sighed internally—she’d avoided mentioning her exceptionally unsettling first Biology class for that very reason. Playing it as casually as she could, she said, “Oh, it was just some guy in my Biology class that first day. He was really weird, kinda getting up in my face—pretty sure he was high or something.” She kept her voice flippant, and deliberately joked, “Compared to him, Jacob might actually be worth catching with my brownies.”

“Hey!” Jacob’s indignation was undercut by his mouthful of said brownie.

The crease hadn’t disappeared from between Charlie’s eyebrows; Bella saw the question coming before he asked it. “Who is this character?”

Her tone vaguely apologetic, she said, “Just…just one of the Cullen kids.”

Billy looked up, surprised. “Cullen?” he asked, his voice lilting upwards. “You mean, as in Doctor Cullen, over at the hospital?”

Bella shrugged. “I guess so. They’re the only Cullens I know—but then, I don’t know too many people yet.” She smiled at him, and added, “I’ve only been there a week.”

Charlie looked a bit surprised himself. “One of the Cullen kids was acting stoned?” he repeated.

Jacob affected a wise expression as he helped himself to another brownie. “Looks like someone’s been dipping into the good doctor’s medicine cabinet,” he said knowingly, and Bella couldn’t help but laugh.

Charlie was fiddling with his empty napkin. “Maybe I ought to say something to Carlisle,” he said, sounding not terribly enthused about the prospect.

“No!” It came out more forcefully than she intended, and she felt her cheeks pinking as she was suddenly the object of three rather surprised looks. “I mean,” she hastened to clarify, “it was just that one day, and he—he was just weird, is all. But I haven’t seen him since, and I—I don’t want to start any trouble, or anything.” She smiled at Charlie with all the false reassurance she could muster. “Seriously, Dad—it was just my first day and I was nervous, so he seemed weird. Nothing to worry about.”

“He probably just has a crush on you,” Jacob said cheerfully, a veritable fount of un-helpfulness.

Bella rolled her eyes. “Is a bunch of staring and heavy breathing a symptom of a crush?” she asked wryly.

Jacob gave her a very sleazy look. “Oh, it can be,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Jacob.” Billy’s warning tone put an end to that line of conversation, and Bella couldn’t help but be grateful.

A rather uncomfortable silence fell over the table, but Jacob worked his way back into Bella’s good books almost immediately by suddenly sitting up straight, scrabbling for the remote, and ramping up the volume—halftime was over, and the game was on. To Bella’s relief, the lure of football proved a much more interesting subject than strange boys at school, and the attention of the three males was quickly diverted.

She sat with them for a bit, finishing off the rest of her beer. She didn’t pretend to understand football, but she couldn’t deny that the atmosphere was infectious, and she managed a belated cheer when Seattle scored early in the second half—although she derived much more amusement watching her fellow spectators than the game. Charlie always yelled at the TV, his normally phlegmatic temper giving way at the screen. Billy mostly waved his arms, but still always got to rocking in his seat—rocking the seat itself, really, a reminder that despite his legs he was still plenty strong. And Jacob more than made up for his father’s inability to stand; he was prone to leaping about and throwing himself across the couch and springing to his feet at the slightest provocation.

Bella tipped back the remainder of her beer, crushed her can like Charlie always did, and then heaved herself up from the table, clearing away the used napkins and empty plates and taking care to duck out of anyone’s line-of-sight—even she knew that making someone miss a key play was a Capital Offense.

As she began to make her way around the back of the chairs towards the kitchen, she caught Billy’s eye and smiled at him. He gestured her towards him. She leaned down, her eyebrows raised, and he smiled up at her, his eyes crinkling familiarly at the corners. “Don’t you worry about the nuts at your school, honey,” he said warmly. “You just make friends and have fun—you’ll be fine.”

She smiled at him, and freed one of her hands to pat the large brown one on her arm. “Thanks, Billy.”

Chapter Text

Bella found it was much easier not to worry about the nuts at her school when they weren’t actually around.

With her first week solidly under her belt, her classes not giving her too much trouble, and the fact she’d found a little group of students who didn’t mind her tagging along so she wouldn’t feel like a complete outcast, she was feeling much better about the move in general. She had a long phone call with Renée that Sunday, updating her on school, and she really hadn’t had to fake her enthusiasm too much. And after the sour mood in the house following Seattle’s defeat on Saturday and a long, slow day of nothing while Charlie was off fishing on Sunday, Bella was actually looking forward to getting back into her new routine of classes.

And so on Monday she did, and her day at school was actually quite pleasant—right up until her routine was unpleasantly interrupted.

She’d had a very nice morning, and an equally nice lunch. She was still the quiet one, stuck in amongst all these friends who’d known each other since grade school, but she’d started contributing more and more to the conversation around what she was starting to think of as “our table.” They’d somehow gotten on the subject of various woeful misfortunes of their younger days, and with Bella’s humiliating tendency to fall on her face at the worst possible moment, she had her fair share of those. She’d managed to crack up the whole table with her tale of when Charlie had taken her down to the beach at La Push; she had been trying to show off by climbing high on the rocks, and wound up not only falling into a tide pool, but also landing on a sea urchin, necessitating a trip to the ER and three stitches on her left buttcheek.

Bella left lunch a bit on the late side, waiting around for Angela and Mike so that she could walk to class with them. There was a vaguely pleasant feeling about it; walking alone through the halls surrounded by talking students last week had given her such a feeling of pathetic isolation. But now, she knew where Mike and Angela’s lockers were, and they walked together and detoured to their respective stops on the way. Bella was mostly just walking beside them, not contributing too much to their conversation, but she was at least an appreciative audience to Mike’s stories, and he genuinely made her laugh.

Bella trailed behind them as they walked into Biology, giggling probably more than warranted at Mike’s indignation about getting depantsed in last week’s basketball practice, when she looked up—and stopped dead.

Her bench was already occupied. By Edward Cullen.

Mike and Angela didn’t notice that they’d lost her and just went on to their own benches. Bella looked at her feet, shuffling out of the way of the doorway but not really moving much.

Edward was sitting sideways in his chair, one elbow propped up on the lab bench, looking out the window—it looked like it was trying to snow, she noticed, the occasional fleck of white darting past the glass. His back was to her seat, and he didn’t seem to have noticed her come in.

Scowling, she shook herself. Well, what did you expect? she demanded internally. That he’d just dropped out? She hefted her backpack up higher on her shoulder and resolutely started forward. You knew he’d be back sooner or later.

Well, this time, she was ready. And if he looked like he was even thinking about—about doing—whatever it was that he had done again, she was gonna tell Mr. Banner and asked to be moved. And she’d tell Charlie. So there.

She kept her eyes on anything but him as she walked, and when she reached her desk, she yanked her chair to the far end of the bench. Her bag hit the benchtop with a whump, and she slid gingerly in her seat, the corner of the bench poking into her sternum.

Despite herself, she flicked her eyes to the side, just once. Edward hadn’t moved.

A bit stiffly, she opened her bag to get out her notebook and pencil case, along with her pre-lab worksheets that they’d been given on Friday for today’s lab. She laid out her supplies with ridiculous deliberation—anything to have something she could focus on—but after she stowed her bag under her bench there really wasn’t much else she could do except uncomfortably sit there, so far on the edge of the bench that she was nearly out in the aisle, and look the other way.

There was a neat row of black microscopes standing at attention on the edge of Mr. Banner’s desk; they were going to be looking at cell slides today, identifying the stages of cell cycle. Bella couldn’t help a small surge of irritation. She’d covered this topic twice already in Phoenix, including looking at slides. She liked biology and hoped to study it at college—it figured it’d be the class she got set back the farthest in by the move.

“Hello.”

Bella nearly leapt out of her skin at the sudden sound of the voice so close to her. She whirled around, her heart pounding in her ears, and her elbow sent her pencil case flying off the desk. She swiped for it but missed and it fell—into a waiting hand.

She blinked—and looked up.

Edward Cullen had turned in his seat to face her. He was regarding her steadily, a small half-smile curling one corner of his mouth, and her pencil case held in his outstretched hand.

And there was no sign of last week’s psychosis.

His attempted smile dropped a bit in the face of her continued silence, and his eyes shifted to the side as he gingerly set her pencil case on the benchtop beside her, pushing it towards her with the tips of his fingers. Realizing that she was just sitting there goggling at him, she snapped to attention, her face heating unpleasantly. “Hi,” she said shortly, and swept the case towards her. “Thanks.”

He had drawn his hand away quickly, tucking his arms in close to his body. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” She busied herself by reordering her papers and taking out a pencil; after their last meeting, she didn’t trust herself not to let her skepticism at that statement show.

“I…didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last week,” he said, and there was no way she could help it now; when she involuntarily turned to look at him, she knew her incredulity was written all over her face.

Edward shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable, but only rather lamely added, “I wasn’t…myself, last Monday.”

She barely managed not to laugh in his face. Yeah, well, meth will do that to you, she thought snidely.

There was no way Edward hadn’t picked up on her disbelief at such a ridiculous, barely-acknowledged excuse for his episode last week, but he was still awkwardly pressing on. “My name is Edward Cullen.”

She gave him a brittle smile. “Bella Swan.” And then, because she couldn’t resist, pointedly added, “The police chief’s daughter.”

He didn’t seem to get her hint, just gave another one of those tight-lipped smiles and said, “Yes, I—my foster father has spoken of Chief Swan before.”

Well, there wasn’t much she could say to that, and so a positively oppressive silence fell between them. Frankly, though, she preferred it that way.

Edward didn’t, apparently.

“I, um, think it’s starting to snow,” he offered hesitantly. Automatically, her eyes slid to the window; the little white motes were coming more frequently now, invisible against the low-hanging sky but clear against the wet pavement of the parking lot.

Bella made some vague, non-committal noise in response and looked away again. He may not have been breathing on her, but he still gave her the creeps, with his pale, unblinking eyes with the bags beneath them following her every move.

“Is…is the weather here a big change for you? From—from where you were before?”

Bella took a deep breath through her nose—couldn’t this guy take a hint? “A bit,” she said tightly. “I was from Phoenix.”

“Ah—well, yes, that—that would be different.”

Mr. Banner’s calling the class to order could not have been more welcome. She turned to face the front of the room with a level of enthusiasm that cell cycles had never inspired in her before.

After taking roll, Mr. Banner gave a quick intro to the lab before calling them up to turn in their pre-labs and then get a microscope and slides, one per bench. A quick glance at Edward revealed that he was turned away again, looking determinedly out the window where wet, clumpy flakes were falling quite regularly now.

Half-grumbling, half-resigned, she picked up his completed pre-lab report along with her own (he didn’t even move, much less say thank you), and then got up and went to the front of the room to get their equipment and worksheets by herself. She hated labs in regular classes—it wasn’t bragging to say that she pretty much always got stuck doing all the work. It was better in her AP classes back home; students there actually wanted to learn, and so they didn’t just coast along when they found that someone else would do their work for them. But, here she was, back in a regular class, and sharing her bench with a nut-fudge-sundae to boot.

“Okay, guys—these slides are numbered, but they’re all numbered differently in each box,” Mr. Banner was saying. “So you get the box that goes with your bench number and do your own work—if you try to copy someone else’s, I’ll know, and so will you when you get all the wrong answers.

Bella, being in the back, was at the end of the line, and so got the last microscope. All of the other students had come up in pairs to get their supplies, but Mr. Banner didn’t say anything about her coming alone, just giving a quick glance to the back of the room before sending her along her way. Not having enough hands, she shoved the slide box in her pocket and carried the ‘scope and the worksheets back to her bench.

Edward still hadn’t moved, and didn’t acknowledge that she was back. Suppressing a huff of irritation, she plugged in the microscope in front of her own seat and sat down. He still didn’t move when she shoved his worksheet across the bench toward him (leaving it nearer to the middle of the bench, ‘cause she didn’t want to get that close to him), and so she just rolled her eyes skyward and pulled out the first slide.

Flicking on the ‘scope and twiddling the stage, she snapped the slide into focus at the highest mag. The neat rows of squarish cells were stained a rather orange color, with the nuclei in bright blue. Bella blew out a slightly exasperated sigh; these were child’s play. The first time she’d studied cells like this, she’d had to go through and count and quantify all the cells in the field. This time, there was only one cell she was supposed to be looking at, and it had a small black arrow pointing to it right on the slide.

Turning away from the microscope, she wrote “prophase” for question one and then muddled her way through a rough sketch of the cell in question; she was not known for her artistic abilities.

“May I see?”

Bella jumped again; Edward had decided to once more grace her with his attention, and was looking between her and the microscope with a hesitant expression.

She forced her face into a pleasant mask. “Sure,” she said blandly, and pushed the scope in his direction, before going back to her work.

Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t help but peek over to see what he was doing. Rather to her surprise, he looked at the slide himself, flicked his eyes once in her direction, and then just went about doing his own work. Huh. She’d have pegged him for the type to want to see what she had.

He finished about when she did, pulling the slide from the stage and asking, “Ah—may I have the next…?” trailing off as he held it up.

Pinching her mouth a little—she did want to do her own work, and in this case, she’d much rather do it alone—she pushed the slide box across the table. He watched her, or rather, seemed to watch her hand, only reaching for the box when her own arm was safely tucked back by her side.

Weirdo.

He took his turn, looked at her, and seemed about to say something, but then just diffidently slid the scope back her way with the tips of the narrow fingers that were just visible beneath the long sleeve of his sweatshirt, snatching his arm back quickly and going back to his worksheet with studied concentration.

That’s how the rest of the lab went; there was a general hubbub of talk and rustled papers from the rest of the class, but the two of them worked in stony, uncomfortable silence. They didn’t take long—this was old hat for her, and he seemed to need to look at the slides for even less time than she did. There were six total, and she wound up taking the last turn, peering into the lenses despite having already guessed what she would see by process of elimination.

“Mr. Banner?” came a loud voice from the middle of the room. Bella looked up; it was D.J. Garret, a very tall, broad-shouldered guy who was regrettably partnered up with a thin, rather angsty looking boy whose name she wasn’t sure of and who seemed to be a frequent target of torment from his partner. D.J. was usually making noise and being generally disruptive (harmlessly so, mostly), and from Mr. Banner’s dry comments to him over her first week, Bella had gathered that this was not his first time to take this class.

“Mr. Banner, I think my cell has a penis,” he said loudly, beaming, clearly impressed with his own wit.

Bella rolled her eyes and looked back down at her slide. “Jealous?” she asked under her breath.

There was a sudden choking sound to her left; she looked up to find Edward looking away from her again, but this time he was hunched down and his shoulders were silently shaking.

She felt her eyebrows crawl downwards in confusion—and no little wariness, after last week. It took her a moment to realize that he was laughing.

Ooooooookay. So he’s on nitrous oxide too. Bella shook her head and went back to her work while Mr. Banner told D.J. to quit fooling around and get to work. Edward seemed to get a grip on himself shortly afterwards and looked up at her. Despite his pallor, there were two spots of color on his hollow cheeks, his eyes were bright, and the lingering smile on his face was the first real one she’d seen out of him.

To her dismay, she felt her cheeks heating up in response. Rather gruffly, she said, “It wasn’t that funny.”

He looked a bit embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it—it’s just that you…you surprised me, is all,” he finished. As he spoke his embarrassment seemed to fade, and he was left looking at her with an odd expression.

Edward’s intent gaze was making her uneasy, but she managed a weak smile before quickly going back to her lab write up with an unnecessary clearing of her throat.

The thick silence fell again over their table. It only got worse when Bella finished the questions at the end her worksheet. It was easy, and now she was done and without anything to occupy her, nothing to keep her mind busy and her eyes front.

“Ah—do you—did you want to…compare answers?”

Bella stiffened a little in her seat. Ah. There it was. Well, she had to give him credit for at least pretending to have done his own work before wanting to see hers. She wasn’t about to let him outright copy, so she smiled wanly and then just rattled off her answers to the slide questions. His drawings could stand (or fall) on their own.

After listing the phases, she was mildly surprised to find that he had all the same answers she did. Maybe I got one of the smart stoner types. “Well, looks good,” she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible and still not sure that she managed it.

A few more groups seemed to have finished. Mr. Banner was winding through the tables and stopped by theirs. “All done, you two?” he asked, picking up Bella’s paper and scanning her answers.

“Yeah,” Bella replied. “Do we need to return the microscope?”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” he answered. “Go ahead and take the ‘scope and the slides back up to my desk, if you’re done.” He smiled at her and then moved on.

Bella flicked the switch on the scope and then stood so that she could lean forward and unplug it. The slide box was in the middle of the bench, and when she reached over to get it, she found Edward yet again facing away, utterly still as he looked out the window and once again not even acknowledging her presence.

With a slight shake of her head, she gathered up the slides and the ‘scope and returned them to the front desk. On her way back she smiled at Angela when she caught her gaze, and her roving eyes spotted Mike’s blonde head leaning down as he peered at his slides.

Edward was in that same position when she got back, stiffly unmoving, his shoulders hunched, his face averted. Bella guessed she’d have to get used to looking at his back for the rest of the year.

There were still nearly fifteen minutes of class left. She didn’t see how such a simple lab could take so long. Check that—yes, she did. Anything done by thirty high school students in a group was bound to take three times as long as it should, she thought wryly to herself.

She heard a dismayed exclamation from the other side of the room; apparently, the snow was giving way to rain again. She turned to look out the window for herself—and found herself looking Edward right in the eye.

She managed not to jump this time; he, on the other hand, looked a little startled at her sudden movement. Both of them sat there, frozen, and Bella felt her face heating up again.

Edward cast his eyes about for a moment, and then licked his lips and haltingly asked, “Ah, so, why—what brings you to Forks? Brought,” he corrected himself immediately. “Brought you to Forks. I mean, your move here. Why you came. Uh, moved.”

It was hard to stay too jittery under his creepy gaze when his attempts at conversation were so painful, she discovered. So, if he’s not crazy, he’s chatty. Fine. “I came for the waters,” she quoted, deadpan.

He blinked owlishly at her, and she stifled a sigh. “I moved up here to live with my dad,” she clarified, trying to give him a smile to let him know that she’d just been joking.

“Oh.” He still looked uncertain, but tried again anyway. “Did you live with your mother before? In Phoenix?”

“Yeah,” she answered. She’d had this conversation plenty of times last week, so she trotted out the same old answer from before. “My stepdad has to move around a lot for his job, so I came up here to have a permanent place to live and go to school.”

“Oh.”

Not much of a conversationalist, this one. That didn’t stop him, of course.

“So, ah—how do you find Forks?”

“Well, I’ll spare you and won’t say ‘wet’,” she joked, and this time he seemed to get it, smiling a little. “S’all right,” she went on. “I was born here, even though I haven’t lived in Washington since I was four. But I always came up here in the summer and at Christmas, so it’s not totally unfamiliar, or anything.”

“Well, that’s—that’s good, then.”

She nodded gamely and then reached around to slide her arms into her jacket sleeves; science labs were always chilly. An abrupt movement caught her eye and she looked up, half-in and half-out of her coat, in time to see Edward spin in his seat and go back to looking in the opposite direction, his shoulders tense.

Okay, it was official: Edward Cullen was completely bizarre.

Bella’s attention was snapped forward when Mr. Banner hollered over the din of rustling papers and chatting students. “Okay, guys—lab worksheets are due tomorrow at the start of class. We’ll go over the slides in class afterwards, and then I want you all to have read through section four of the chapter, ‘cause we’ll cover it next.”

Bella wrote down the reading assignment in her notebook, and then hauled her bag up from the floor to put it and her pencil away. She let out a large sigh and leaned her chin on the rough canvas of her bag. She didn’t want to go out in the cold rain just to go to gym (actually, she didn’t want to go to gym at all). Her eyes roved over her classmates, who were putting away their own books, and Mr. Banner was directing the last few ‘scopes up to his desk. Her eyes flicked to the left almost automatically, and she straightened, feeling an unpleasant shiver trickle down her spine. Edward was looking at her again.

He looked surprised to meet her gaze again, but then closed his eyes briefly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then opened them again and gave her a tight-lipped, rather shaky smile. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat when his words came out a bit roughly, “uh, welcome to Forks.”

Bella just looked at him for a moment, nonplussed, but politely returned his smile and said, “Thanks.”

And then the bell rang, and without another word he was gone.

Bella scurried around the kitchen, heating some soup on the stove while throwing together a couple of sandwiches.

She was not a morning person. At all. So, naturally, she took advantage of the weekends to sleep late. Sundays in particular were her day of indulgence; since Charlie had lapsed in taking them to church in favor of fishing all day, Bella felt much less guilty about lazing in bed until all hours, knowing he wouldn’t be around in the house while she snoozed.

She was jolted out of a light doze this morning just a little before eleven by the telephone; it was Charlie. She’d been surprised, and he rather tiredly told her that his fishing trip had been abruptly cancelled, so early that he’d not even been out of bed yet when he got the call; he’d been needed in his official capacity and had been out canvassing the woods all morning. He was tired and damp and hungry, and he’d be coming home soon, so would she mind having some lunch for him?

Well, that was no problem. The problem was that her long shower habit had caught up with her, and she’d come out of the bathroom to find that it was not long before noon, when Charlie said he’d be back, so she’d had to dash. Luckily, soup-and-sandwiches was quick and easy and always welcome, particularly if the latter were grilled.

She heard the rattle of the key in the lock, and then the creak of the opening door. Well—looks like I timed it all right after all, she thought as she slid the hot sandwich onto a plate as Charlie shuffled into the room.

“Hey, Bells,” he said tiredly, and then sniffed the air. “Mmm—smells good,” he said, sinking into his chair at the table.

Bella squirted mustard on one side in a smiley face and sliced the sandwich on the diagonal and then took it over to set it down in front of him. “I hope turkey’s okay,” she said.

“Sounds great.”

She dropped another pat of margarine into the skillet and put her own sandwich on to cook, and then poured the now hot tomato soup into the two waiting mugs.

Her sandwich didn’t take long, and after a liberal smear of mayo, she took her plate and mug to the table as well and sat down opposite Charlie. For a while the only sounds were the steady munching on fried bread and slurping from soup mugs, until the edge seemed to be taken off of his appetite, when she asked, “So—what’s up?”

Charlie sighed, and polished off the first half of his sandwich. “Got a call this morning around three thirty,” he said, and Bella made a reflexive face of sympathy. “A ranger out in the national park didn’t clock out from duty last night.” He paused to take a drink. “His family hadn’t heard anything and couldn’t reach him, and eventually went out and found his car still at the main entrance. He never picked it up,” he went on. “Put him out on the wire, and they needed people to start canvassing the woods. People can get hurt out there and not be able to get back to where they can get help.”

“Did you find him?” Bella asked, rather unpleasantly suspecting she knew the answer from Charlie’s demeanor.

“No,” he said heavily. “But we did find some of his bloodied clothes.”

“Oh, no,” she said.

Charlie sighed. “Yeah. Looks like an animal got him. They’re keeping volunteers out there still looking, but chances are he’s not coming back.”

Bella’s mouth twisted as she swirled her spoon in her mug. “Well, maybe they’ll still find him,” she said, trying to be a little upbeat.

Charlie took a gulp of soup and wiped his mouth, and then sighed again. “I hope so, but I doubt it. I’ve seen animal attacks before, and this looked like it—and you’d be surprised, but a lot of times, a few bloodied scraps of clothes are all we ever find.” He tipped back his mug, draining the last, and set it down heavily. “Poor guy—he had a wife and two kids, too.” He picked up the other half of his sandwich and set to eating, looking unseeingly over Bella’s shoulder.

Bella chewed rather morosely on the corner of her own sandwich. Forks was a pretty quiet town, and so it was rare during her summer visits that she was ever confronted with anything from Charlie’s job less pleasant than a few speeding violations.

Charlie washed down the last of his lunch, and then looked up at Bella. He seemed to shake himself. “I’m sorry, Bella. I don’t like bringing shop talk home to you like this.”

She smiled back at him. “No, it’s okay—I don’t mind. Will you be going back out?” she asked.

Charlie leaned back in his seat. “Nah. They said they didn’t need me anymore, and I’m beat.” He patted his stomach and burped softly. “Now that I’m all full of a hot meal, I’ll probably just go take a nap.”

“Good idea,” Bella agreed. “Your couch is waiting.”

He smiled, but didn’t move, and the two of them sat in silence until Bella finished and took out the dishes. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some ice cream,” he said to her as she loaded them in the dishwasher.

She chuckled. “Is it ever a bad time for ice cream?” she retorted, and Charlie grinned at her as she went for the freezer.

Charlie took his ice cream bar with a look of pleasure, as Bella plonked back down across from him with her own. “What about you?” he asked, his wrapper crinkling as he slid it off. “Any big plans for today?”

“Nope,” she said, blowing her wrapper open before tugging it off to wrap it around the stick. “We cleaned up the kitchen after Billy and Jacob left yesterday, so I was just going to clean the bathroom today, but since I finished all my homework Friday night, so after that was just gonna make a lazy day of it.”

“What about tomorrow?” he asked. “Long weekend,” he reminded her; Monday was MLK day and so they were both off.

“Nah,” she said. “Nothing going on.”

Charlie looked inquiringly at her. “You don’t, I dunno, have any plans with some kids from school?”

Bella shook her head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I don’t really know anyone here that well, yet,” she said.

“People are still being friendly, though?” he asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“Oh, yeah,” she was quick to reassure him. “I’m just not really a social butterfly, and it’s only been two weeks,” she added. And she wasn’t—that had always been Renée’s department, going out and about and meeting all kinds of new people and making friends with them, spending her weekends hanging out with everyone from firemen to rock-climbing instructors to baseball players and even one reformed ex-con. Bella was dragged along for the ride and hadn’t minded, but if there was no one to do the dragging, chances are she would just stay home. “But everyone’s still nice; I’ve met people in my classes and I have people to hang out with during lunch,” she said, “so I’m not lonely.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” He frowned momentarily. “Didn’t you say there was some kid bothering you in one of your classes?” His frown deepened. “It was one of Carlisle’s kids, wasn’t it? Dr. Cullen,” he amended.

“Oh, him.” Bella couldn’t help the wry twist of her mouth. Edward Cullen had been in class all week, and seemed to have settled into a routine of alternately making the most awkward attempts at conversation that she had ever heard in her life, or simply ignoring her all together. In either case, while he still gave her the creeps, he didn’t seem to be lapsing back into…whatever that had been that first day. “No,” she told Charlie. “He’s fine, I guess—just really weird. He hasn’t bothered me again. We just do our work and that’s all.”

Charlie looked rather relieved. “Well, that’s good—you don’t need that at school,” he said decisively. “And I’d hate to think that one of Carlisle’s bunch had gone bad,” he added. “They’re good people. He and his wife—” Charlie gave a little cough, “—uh, Esme, she’s a nurse up at the hospital—they adopted all those kids out of, you know, bad homes and such.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said with a nod, balling up his wrapper and stick and chucking them across the room towards the trashcan; he always made it in. Clearly Bella hadn’t inherited her lack of hand-eye coordination from him. “Carlisle’s a bit strange sometimes too, I suppose, but he really is a decent guy,” he said, taking a drink. His eyes twinkled at her over the rim of his cup. “Taught me a thing or two about cribbage,” he teased.

Bella scowled at him. Their tournament last week hadn’t been so much a game as it had been a rout. Her little cup of loose change that she used for their friendly wagers was woefully depleted. “I will get my money back,” she said warningly around the ice cream stick she was sucking on.

Charlie laughed. “Maybe we’ll play a little this evening, then, what do you say?” He smirked. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Bella mock-snarled at him, but then smiled as she got up to toss her wrapper.

“Hey—I have an idea for tomorrow, too,” Charlie suddenly said from behind her.

Bella turned to cross back to the table. “What? I thought you’d make up your lost fishing day,” she said, sitting down.

Charlie waved that away. “I go fishing every weekend—missing one for work isn’t going to kill me. No,” he went on, “I thought maybe, since you’re not doing anything, maybe we could make a day of it?” His voice turned the sentence into a question, and he looked up at her with a hint of hopeful anxiety. “I know it’s not summer, but we could still have a Movie Nite.”

Bella felt herself beginning to grin. Movie Nite was something she and Charlie had always done when she visited; they’d go out, stock up on all manner of junk food, and then rent a handful of old movies and plop themselves in front of the TV all evening. She’d never had cable growing up, so that was the way she’d seen all the old classics. “Can we get a Marx Brothers?” she asked.

Charlie laughed. “Well, of course—just so long as I get a John Wayne.”

“It’s a deal,” she said, and she grinned, and Charlie grinned back.

“Well,” he said, “I think it’s time for me to go hit that couch,” he said, and stood.

“Okay, Dad—I’ll keep it down.” She gave him a big glower. “And tonight, I’m gonna be the one wiping the floor with you, and don’t you forget it.”

Charlie just chuckled and ruffled her hair, before ambling off into the living room.

It took Bella a moment to realize that the persistent sound of the phone ringing was not part of her dream. Jerking herself awake, she looked confusedly around the room towards the phone on her desk; squinting at her alarm clock, she found that it wasn’t even seven yet.

The phone was still ringing. She threw back her covers, wincing at the blast of cold air that hit her, and then heaved herself out of bed and lurched toward her desk.

She sat heavily down in her desk chair (which she regretted immediately upon the feel of the icy seat pressing against the backs of her bare thighs) and picked up her cell phone. “Hello?” she rasped.

“Hi, Bella—sorry to wake you.” It was Charlie.

Bella swallowed, her mouth still tasting of sleep. “No, it’s okay—my alarm was going to go off in a bit anyway—what is it?” she asked hoarsely.

“I’m guessing you haven’t looked out your window,” Charlie answered, a bit grimly. “We had a freeze last night.”

Bella reflexively looked at her window, but the curtains were drawn. Charlie was still talking. “I just wanted to call to tell you to be careful. We’re sanding the roads where we can, but we really don’t have the best equipment up here—we don’t get this kind of weather very often,” he said, sounding frustrated. “The roads aren’t terrible, but they aren’t good, either, and people can start driving like nuts when it gets like this.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, still a bit muzzy with sleep.

Charlie cleared his throat into the phone. “Well, anyway, I put some snow chains on your tires this morning,” he said.

“Oh—thanks, Dad,” Bella said, perking up a little in appreciation.

“That doesn’t mean you can drive like normal,” Charlie warned. “You still have to be careful.”

“I know—I will, Dad—but thanks.”

“Well, okay.” Charlie’s voice was gruff. “You should leave early, so you can take it slow. And I mean it about watching out for other drivers—we’ve already had two accidents this morning.”

“Okay, Dad—I will be,” she promised. “And thanks for the chains.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he said, and then coughed into the mouthpiece. “Listen, I need to go—be careful, Bells, and I’ll see you this evening.”

“Okay, Dad,” she said. “You be careful too.”

“Right. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bella clumsily dropped plonked her phone back down on the desk, looked rather vaguely around her room, and then yawned hugely. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes in an effort to wake up, and then grimaced as her alarm shrieked to life. “Yeah, yeah!” she growled, standing up to shut it off, which she did, and not at all gently. She was of the opinion that electronic alarm clocks had in fact perfected the World’s Most Annoying Noise. They certainly seemed to seek out her spinal cord and make her legs jitter every time she heard one. Scratching her hip and yawning again, she looked over to the window, where pale white light was filtering through her curtains, and then crossed the floor to peek outside.

Her breath caught. The trees were coated with a delicate sheen of ice, their details all picked out in white and silver in the soft light of early morning, gleaming like fantastic statues cut from crystal. She admired them for half a second more until she realized that driving—or in her case, even walking—was going to be an absolute nightmare.

Letting out an irritated breath, she shuffled out into the hall and towards the bathroom.

She did as Charlie suggested and did not dawdle this morning. His call had actually jump-started her morning, so she was scrubbed up, dressed, and downstairs earlier than usual. Today was the end of her third week at Forks High School, and she felt that she had settled into a nice, orderly existence. Bella liked routine.

She shook out a bowl of cereal and opened the fridge to get some milk. She’d have to go to the store tomorrow; despite the Seahawks dropping out of the running for the Superbowl, Billy, Jacob, and Charlie were still hot for the playoffs. Game day was going to be Sunday this weekend and the next, and all the boys were torqued up. Bella would have to cook them up a feast to keep them at bay.

She quickly gulped down her breakfast, put her dishes away, and then bundled up and steeled herself to face the elements.

The trees were even more beautiful without the foggy glass of the windows blocking the view. The drapes of greenery overhead had been transformed into enormous branching chandeliers hanging from pillars of ice. Crossing the porch, she looked at the steps and was relieved to see that Charlie had apparently sprinkled them with salt; the ice was patchy and largely melted. All the same, Bella clung to the handrail on her way down, determined not to slip.

She successfully navigated the stairs, to her relief. Smiling with victory, she turned and headed down the driveway towards her truck—and promptly slid on a frozen puddle in the gravel of the driveway and fell right on her butt.

A whoof of air escaped her as she landed hard on the cold ground. By this point she was so used to pulling stunts like that that she didn’t even have the impulse to swear. She just called herself a lot of good names in her head, and then gingerly slid around until she could get her feet under her and shakily stand.

Rubbing her now cold, damp, and sore behind, she resumed picking her way through the slick spots to her truck. She made it this time, and when she spotted the metal crisscrosses covering her tires, and couldn’t help but smile.

The drive to school was quite uneventful, but seemed to take forever as Bella, knuckles white on the steering wheel, inched her way through the streets at the lowest of speeds. After living her whole drivers’ licensed-life in Phoenix, she had pretty much zero experience driving on the ice, so she wasn’t taking any chances. She didn’t see any accidents, but she spotted someone fishtailing as they tried to go too fast. She was sure that anyone who got caught behind her was cussing her snail’s pace, but she wasn’t about to go any faster than that—bad driving conditions made her exceptionally nervous.

She let out a huge breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding when she finally oozed into the school parking lot. She skated across the slicked asphalt to her usual parking spot, and pulled into it with a sigh of relief.

Her heater had managed to get quite toasty on the way, so she didn’t move to get out of the cab immediately. Instead she watched the slow but steady trickle of cars filtering into the parking lot. With the long drive, she’d arrived pretty much at her usual time, but it was still on the empty side of things compared to how it usually was this time of morning.

Sighing, she figured that there was no reason to stay here, and so reluctantly shut off the car, along with her lovely warm air. Slinging her bag across her shoulder, Bella resolutely grabbed the door handle and popped the latch.

The door swung open, and in came a blast of cold air. Hunching her shoulders, she stepped out, keeping a firm hold on the door as her feet encountered the icy ground; she was determined not to slip on her way into the building. Holding tight to the frame, she shifted around the cab, her eyes scanning the lot. As her eyes moved, she spotted a familiar rangy figure standing next to a silver SUV, and as Edward’s tousled head turned in her direction, she reflexively looked away, so as not to meet his eyes. She shut her door but kept one hand braced against the truck, and starting moving towards the building.

Afterwards, Bella was never quite sure what had happened. It wasn’t in slow motion, like the movies, nor was it a blur like it always was in books. It was just…sensations. A series of remembered snapshots, and herself merely a spectator, not a participant.

She heard the sudden blare of a horn, which startled her into looking up, and there was a strange, low shush which she later guessed must have been sliding tires. She didn’t see it moving, but she remembered the sight of it, a frozen image in her eyes of the van, tilted at an odd angle on the ice, its broad side facing the side of her truck. There was a shout, or a scream maybe, but it was distant, and then there was the van again, larger, closer, and that sliding swish seemed to fill her ears even as the van filled her vision, brighter and clearer and larger than life.

And then there was a sudden, icy grip that closed like a vise on her arm, and she was jerked—no, yanked aside, and she gave a helpless grunt as her breath was snatched away, her feet leaving the ground, and she remembered so clearly looking upward at the low white clouds, she heard the sound of crashing glass and crumpling metal and felt the strange sensation of weightlessness as she sailed through the air but all she could remember seeing was the sky—

And then with a thump and a great explosion of pain, Bella came to a sudden stop as the ground slammed into her from behind, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

“Bella?”

Dimly, Bella realized that someone was calling her name.

“Bella? Can you hear me?”

The voice was low and urgent, and as sensation began to seep into her brain, she became aware that she was very cold and was lying on something hard. Blearily, she opened her eyes, and was rather alarmed to see two identical faces swimming blurrily above her. She snapped her eyes shut again, squeezing them tight, and when she heard her name again, she opened them, blinking rapidly until the two faces coalesced into one.

And her traitorous cheeks promptly heated up as she realized that it was Edward Cullen’s worried face that was hovering over her.

He smiled at the sight of her, a look of relief spreading over his face—which, at this close range, had just struck her anew with how ridiculously pretty it was. He should have been born a girl, she thought rather disjointedly. “Stay still, Bella,” he said, his voice warmer than she’d ever heard it. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah,” she said, still blinking against the brightness of the watery morning light shining down into her eyes. Slowly, she became aware that there was a babble of talk going on around her, something about a Tyler Crowley, and herself, and it really was very cold and uncomfortable right now, and—she was lying on the ground!

She started to move, only to feel a hand press firmly on her shoulder. “No, no,” Edward said. “Don’t move, not yet.” He leaned close, looking into her eyes with a furrowed brow, and she felt herself holding her breath. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked suddenly. “Your full name?”

What? “Uh, Isabella Marie Swan?” she answered, bewildered.

“And your birthday?”

Her brows drew together. “September thirteenth.”

“Good.” One gloved hand appeared in her vision, the long index finger extended. “Look here,” he instructed, and her eyes followed his fingertip involuntarily as he moved it slowly back and forth in front of her eyes. “All right, now close one eye,” he ordered, but this was too much—what was going on?

“Edward, what—?” she tried to move again, which was a mistake; her head suddenly exploded in throbbing pain. There was a rush of babbled voices from all around telling her not to move, and she obeyed them quite readily, even without the two hands that came down on her shoulders to hold her still.

“No, Bella,” he said firmly, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pounding that had erupted in her skull. She was starting to get very upset when Edward finally told her, “You’ve had an accident—you hit your head pretty hard, and until the ambulance gets here, you shouldn’t move.”

“Ambulance?!” she said in alarm, her eyes opening wide even as his words made her freeze faster than the icy hands she suddenly felt pressing into her temples, holding her head still. She flicked her eyes up and felt suddenly like cringing as she realized that there were now two creepy pairs of eyes pinning her down from above; Alice Cullen was kneeling at her head, her upside-down face blank beneath her fuzzy lime-green chullo, the tassels on the earflaps brushing against Bella's forehead.

“Yeah.” Edward exhaled the words as he looked up. “I think she’s okay,” he said to someone outside of her field of vision. “How’s Tyler?”

Someone called something back, but with Alice’s mittened hands over her ears she couldn’t quite hear what was said. Moving only her eyes, she saw that she was surrounded by a ring of bent-over people; she recognized Angela and Mike’s worried faces among them. “Wha—what’s going on?” she demanded. “What happened?”

Edward blew out a breath through his nose, and when he turned back to her, he couldn’t quite seem to meet her eyes. “Uh, well—someone tried to pull out of a parking place without looking. They nearly hit Tyler, and when he tried to turn, he lost control and hit your car.”

“What?!” Bella nearly sat up before she remembered that that could be a very bad idea.

“It’s okay—everyone’s fine,” Edward soothed. “Tyler knocked his head on the door frame, but he’s awake and okay. I don’t know about the cars,” he said, peering to the side, “but I doubt it’ll be anything serious; he wasn’t going that fast.”

Bella heard the wail of an approaching siren. She moved her eyes to Edward. “What happened to me?” she asked, her memory slowly filtering back with his words; she remembered seeing the van coming, and it was with a sick, shaky feeling in her middle that she realized it had been heading right for her. “How—how did I get here?”

Edward glanced at her and then looked away, one hand coming up to tug on his scarf at the back of his neck, and she saw a spot of color on his cheek. “Uh, well, I—I was coming over to—to ask about…about class, and…well, I…kinda grabbed you,” he finished in a rush. “Uh—pulled you out of the way.”

He suddenly jumped to his feet, rushing to wave away the gathered crowds; they parted quickly before him, and Bella squinted in pain at the shrieking sirens in her ears, which made her head pound like a kettle drum, and with the rumble of an engine and the crunch of tires on the ground, she realized that the ambulance had arrived.

Alice kept her cold hands pressed tight to Bella’s head, not saying a word (which was just as well, as far as Bella was concerned), looking intently down at her with her weird eyes (which wasn’t so good) until she was suddenly hustled aside by an EMT.

“She landed hard and hit her head on the pavement,” she heard Edward saying. “But she’s awake and talking and knows who she is.”

Of course I do, she thought with reflexive irritation, until her still-confused brain caught up with what was going on and she realized that she might have a concussion. Tensing up probably wasn’t the best thing to do, but she couldn’t help it, trying to hold herself as still as possible as the EMT crouched down beside her with a brace for her head.

Things were suddenly moving very quickly—a stretcher materialized next to her, and she was efficiently manhandled onto it like she weighed nothing. Her first instinct was to tell them she was fine, but it didn’t take much thought to realize that she couldn’t say that with any certainty, not with the dull throb radiating from the back of her skull.

She hated head injuries.

Her stretcher was slid into the back of the ambulance, and then another holding the prone body of who she guessed was Tyler Crowley, a boy she hadn’t met before. She’d never actually witnessed anyone with skin as dark as his look that pale, but he did right now, the red runnels of blood stark and bright on the side of his ashen face as he hoarsely whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she answered back, taking pains not to move as the EMTs clambered into the back. She winced as they slammed the doors shut, and then the sirens started up again and the ambulance began to move.

“I—when I lost control—I thought—” Tyler’s Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively, and Bella felt a sympathetic shudder ripple down her spine. That sick feeling in her stomach had been horrible when she realized that she could have been smashed by the oncoming van, but she could only imagine what she would have felt like if she’d been the one driving it.

“It’s okay,” she said, reaching out to brush her hand against his; he hooked her index finger with his own. “We’re both in once piece.”

Tyler gave her a shaky smile, and then his face was obscured as the EMTs filled her vision and she pulled her arm away.

The hospital was not far, and the trip went very quickly with one of the EMTs—Brett, he said his name was—sitting close to her and peppering her with questions, both about how she felt and all sorts of other random things that she guessed was his way of checking her memory. She found she didn’t mind too much; Brett was pretty cute. In what felt like no time at all the ambulance rolled to a stop, and then was flooded with light as the doors were swung open, and then they were wheeling her out.

Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Brett’s arm as he turned her over to the nurses. “Has someone called my dad?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he reassured her, glancing toward the other stretcher. “They’ll get in touch with both you guys’ parents.”

And then he was gone, and she was left to watch the lights on the ceiling sail by overhead (she’d seen it before, but it always struck her that it really did look just as cool as it did in the movies, no wonder they always used that camera angle) as she was wheeled down to the ER.

The new nurse by her side kept up the steady stream of questions, much the same as Brett had asked, and by this point Bella’s nerves were starting to fray. The shock of her near miss, along with the realization of just how near it had been, had finally settled in, and she felt weak and shaky and her head hurt worse than ever. But she did her best to answer everything, and was barely in the ER long enough to look at the room before she was wheeled right back into the hall and down to radiology.

Bella well remembered this drill from her last car accident three years ago. That one, however, had been a decidedly more dramatic and painful experience that had just about shattered her right arm and given her a depressed skull fracture. She’d required surgery from that one, from which she now had the rod in her arm and the plate screwed to her skull as souvenirs—which had also resulted in her already dubious balance going so bad that she’d required physical therapy (to say nothing of having to learn how to write again). She prayed that this wasn’t anything serious as she laid under the lead apron while they shot her X-ray. She really, really didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

It didn’t take long, though, and when she was wheeled back down to the ER, a white-faced and frantic Charlie was waiting for her.

“Bella!” He rushed to the side of her stretcher. Her head was still being held immobile, but she still managed a smile for him.

“Hi, Dad—I’m all right,” she said.

He was holding her hand in a tight grip. “Is she okay?” he demanded from the nurse. “What happened to her? Is she hurt?”

“No, Dad,” she protested, as the nurse made soothing noises. “I just hit my head.”

Given her past experiences that she had just been thinking of, that might not have been the best thing to say; he went even paler and started demanding detail from the nurse.

“Dad!” she tried again. “I’m okay!” She tugged on his hand, a bit ineffectually. “There was just an accident in the parking lot, on the ice, and I just fell down and hit my head when I—when I was pulled out of the way.” She felt a bit embarrassed for no good reason at that last bit, and covered it by going on, “I’m okay, really—I don’t think I have any symptoms of a concussion or anything—just a headache.”

“Well, don’t diagnose yourself, hon,” the nurse warned. “Wait until the doctor gives you a clean bill of health.” She patted her shoulder and then bustled off as another stretcher came in and was wheeled to the opposite side of the room; Bella looked over and saw that it was Tyler.

He had a bright white bandage on his temple and was cleaned up and looking alert. He spotted her, and called, “Bella! Are you okay?”

“I think so—waiting on my X-rays,” she smiled back at him.

“Me too—I don’t need stitches, at least,” he said, pointing up to his bandage and looking generally relieved at her cheerful answer. His expression suddenly wilted; Bella glanced to her side to see Charlie swelling where he stood, his Chief of Police Persona draping over him like a cloak.

“What is your name?” he asked briskly.

“Uh—Tyler. Tyler Crowley.”

“Were you involved in this accident?”

Tyler looked a bit desperate. “Yes—I was just driving through the parking lot, and someone pulled out in front of me—I was just trying to keep from getting hit, but I lost control on the ice…”

“Dad,” Bella said, to which Tyler looked even more alarmed. “It was just an accident. You said so this morning that the roads were bad,” she added, remembering, even though it felt like that phone call had been much longer ago than just a few hours.

Charlie seemed to have relaxed a bit, although he was still regarding Tyler with a steely look. “We’ll need to get a full statement from you for the report,” he said firmly. He looked to Bella. “I got the call over the radio and told Mark to go to the school to cover it while I came up here.”

The nurse reappeared then with a clipboard, and Charlie gave Bella’s hand one last squeeze before sitting down next to her to muddle his way through her paperwork.

It was quiet for a while. Bella’s range of motion was restricted by her temporary brace, so she was left to pretty much look at the ceiling and listen to the hubbub of hospital sounds surrounding her. There was a brief kerfluffle when Tyler’s panicked mother arrived, but he hastily reassured her that he was okay, and she settled down to talk to him in quiet tones.

“Ah, Charlie.”

Charlie’s head had popped up at the sound of his name, and then he was on his feet, crossing the room. “Carlisle,” he said, and Bella flicked her eyes to the side to see Charlie shaking hands with a blond man in a white coat.

“It’s good to see you, though I do wish it were under happier circumstances,” he was saying, and then he drew near, moving to stand over her. “This must be Isabella. I’m Dr. Cullen.”

Bella’s mouth fell open.

A god was standing over her, and he was gorgeous.

He looked down at her with a gentle smile, his blond hair lit all around with a corona from the light above him. His mouth was soft and beautiful, and his eyes were rimmed with long lashes like ferns.

Bella just gawped up at him.

“Well, how do you feel?” he asked, his voice soft and lilting, with the barest hint of some kind of accent.

Her first attempt at speech came out as little more than a squeak, so she swallowed noisily and managed to croak, “Fine.”

His smile widened, and he patted her shoulder; her cheeks immediately flushed. “That’s good,” he said, and turned away and pulled out an X-ray from the folder he was carrying. “I am happy to say that your X-ray is clean,” he informed them, holding it up to the light. “Not a bit of damage—well, no new damage,” he corrected himself. “I did see that this isn’t the first time that you’ve had a head injury. What was this one?” he asked, turning to her as he pointed to her plate, an obvious white patch on the film.

“Huh?” Bella, who had been staring at him with goggle eyes, snapped back to reality when she realized that he had addressed her, and felt her face burn.

“Another car accident,” Charlie supplied, thankfully. “She and her mother were T-boned by a drunk driver.”

“Well,” said Dr. Cullen, tucking her X-ray away and moving towards her again, “it looks like this time you were a bit more fortunate.” He leaned over her, and Bella felt her pulse pound in her ears at the sight of him so close. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny penlight and told her to follow the tip of it with her eyes, which in watching him she almost forgot to do. Afterwards he flicked it on and used it to peer into her eyes. “Any dizziness or nausea?” he asked.

Bella shook her head dreamily—or rather, she tried to, but the brace prevented her, so she coughed a little and managed a “no.”

“I’d imagine that you do have a bit of a headache, though,” he said, snapping off his light and smiling sympathetically at her.

Said smile made her forget the brace, and she tried to nod again before she caught herself and said “Yes.”

“I think this won’t be necessary,” he said, removing the temporary brace, and then he held one graceful hand out for her. “Let’s have you sit up, now.”

She managed to put her shaking hand in his; his cool fingers closed over hers, and her face glowed as he gently helped her to sit up on the edge of the stretcher. He let her go to reach into the pocket of his coat, at which point her shoulders slumped, her head listing to the side as she watched him. She barely noticed the taps to her knees with the rubber mallet, but her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly reached around her, his fingers sifting lightly through her hair as he cradled her head in his hands.

But then she winced as his fingers came in contact with the painful lump on the back of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking his hands away quickly. “I take it that didn’t feel very pleasant?”

Bella shook her head no, her voice still gone. Dr. Cullen held out his hands again, and she took them, and he coaxed her down from the stretcher to stand and then asked her to walk in a straight line. He watched her while she did so, and then smiled and patted the stretcher. She hopped obediently back up on it, falling immediately into her dreamy slouch again.

“Well, then,” Dr. Cullen said, turning to write something in the folder resting beside her stretcher. “I think at this point that it is fairly safe to say that you don’t have a concussion, Isabella. You will merely have to suffer the rather painful effects of an impressive goose-egg.” His head came up, and his eyes twinkled. “Or, perhaps I should say, a Swan egg?”

To Bella’s utter horror, the most brainless giggle she’d ever heard in her life escaped her; she clapped her hands over her mouth in mortification, and her face was so hot that she thought she would catch fire, particularly when she had the misfortune to catch her father’s eye.

Dr. Cullen was, mercifully, oblivious (although it might have been deliberate—which would just make it worse), merely going back to his writing. “I will want to schedule a follow up; Monday would be best,” he said, looking up to Charlie. “Keep her on acetaminophen only for her headache, and only light activity at most over the weekend—what she needs now is rest. I’ll want you to keep an eye out for any additional symptoms: nausea, flashing lights in her vision, difficulty concentrating, that sort of thing. If she experiences any of them, bring her back into the ER immediately.”

Charlie was nodding seriously. Dr. Cullen snapped the folder shut and said, “All in all, I think you were an extremely fortunate young lady,” he said.

Bella could only nod in rapt agreement. “Edward saved me,” she said breathlessly before she realized it.

Dr. Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he, now?” he asked.

“You didn’t say anything about that,” came Charlie’s voice from the side, and she could hear the frown of surprise in it.

Bella managed to tear her eyes away from Dr. Cullen. “He was the one who pulled me out of the way,” she said. She looked down at the stretcher, picking at a bit of lint on the sheet that covered it.

“Well, I think we’re all quite happy that he did,” Dr. Cullen said. He then smiled at her, and Bella thought that if he did that again, she was just going to slide off the stretcher and into a puddle on the floor. “I think you can check out, now, Isabella—just make sure you schedule a follow up for early next week,” he said to Charlie, and then he excused himself to go have a look at Tyler.

Bella watched him go and couldn’t help the wistful sigh that escaped her…but was promptly snapped back into reality when she found Charlie looking at her with raised eyebrows and a sardonic expression.

Her face burned. “Shut up, Dad,” she said petulantly.

Charlie just gave her one last amused look before going back to the clipboard, filling out the rest of her forms and leaving her to stare rather dippily across the room at Dr. Cullen putting Tyler through his paces.

Not long after, a nurse came in with a wheelchair, and smilingly told Bella that she was her transport out. Relieved to be able to leave, she quickly hopped down and parked herself in the chair, and Charlie rose to accompany her.

She stared at her knees when Dr. Cullen paused and turned to shake Charlie’s hand on the way out. She imagined all sorts of dreadful fates for Charlie when, with a sly laugh in his voice, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll have her back in to see you next week.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing you happy and healthy when next we meet, young lady,” he said, smiling down at her, and she could only smile helplessly in response.

“Is he okay too?” Charlie asked, turning back to Tyler.

“Yes, indeed,” Dr. Cullen answered. “It seems that everyone was extremely lucky; nothing but a few bumps here and there, and nothing permanent.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Charlie said. “I’d ask if you wanted to get a coffee, but, well.” His hand closed over Bella’s shoulder.

“Of course, Charlie,” he replied. “You take your daughter home—and you let him spoil you,” he instructed Bella, who blushed and nodded rather stupidly.

“See you around,” Charlie called over his shoulder, and then Bella was wheeled out. Just before she turned out into the hall, she twisted to look over her shoulder and waved goodbye to Tyler; he grinned and waved back.

They stopped off at the nurse’s station outside so Charlie could turn in her paperwork and schedule an appointment for next week. After her last accident, he wasn’t one to take head injuries lightly, and he got her down for the following Monday afternoon (skipping gym, a bonus).

“Oh! Charlie Swan!”

Charlie seemed to jump where he stood, and Bella did too when she looked up and was confronted with a small but very pretty woman with her brown hair up in a snood and wearing dark green scrubs—because prettiness aside, she was moving through the halls with smooth, quick motions that were very near to a prowl, and her intensely focused eyes made Bella want to shrink where she sat.

Charlie, on the other hand, had abruptly straightened, his papers forgotten, and he cleared his throat. “Oh—uh—hello, Mrs. Cullen,” he said roughly, and at a sharp look from her that made both of them cringe, he corrected himself with, “Uh, I mean, Esme.”

“I heard that you were here—that your daughter had been injured. This is her, I take it?” she said briskly, raking her pale eyes over Bella in a way that made her want to hide—or maybe to stand at attention.

Charlie coughed again. “Uh, yeah—er, yes, this is my daughter, Bella. Bella,” he said, and she looked up, “This is Mrs. Cullen.”

Bella blinked. Charlie was standing up very straight, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his cheeks were a little red and…was he pulling in his stomach a little?

Her hand was suddenly seized in a firm, cold grip, which made her start, and she looked up. “Nice to meet you, dear,” Nurse Cullen said, and then eyed her critically. “Are you all right, then?”

“Yes,” Bella answered immediately. “Just hit my head.”

“Your boy pulled her out of the way of a car accident,” Charlie said, almost eagerly, and Mrs. Cullen turned to look at Bella in surprise.

“Which one?” she asked. “Not Edward?”

“Uh, yeah, it was Edward,” Bella said haltingly, not wanting to admit it but equally not wanting to contradict her.

Mrs. Cullen’s full mouth pursed for a moment, but then she smiled. “He always was a good boy.” She patted Bella’s shoulder. “Well, you should go home, now, dear—and take care not to overexert yourself,” she ordered.

“No, m’am,” Bella replied meekly.

“And you take good care of her,” she commanded, rounding on Charlie and seeming to grow to twice her height when she said it.

Charlie actually seemed to puff up a little. “You can count on that, ma’am,” he said, and when Mrs. Cullen beamed at him, he beamed back.

And then she was bustling off, Charlie watching her go with a slightly dazed expression on his face, and Bella felt her eyebrows crawling up her forehead even as she had to bite her lip to keep from grinning.

Charlie seemed to shake himself, and looked down—and when he spotted Bella looking at him, he scowled furiously even as his cheeks flushed. “Shut up, Bella,” he said warningly, and then she simply couldn’t hold in the giggles that seized her as Charlie stomped towards the doors, with Bella rolling along behind him.

Bella’s weekend had been quiet and restful—as enforced by the Forks Police Chief.

Charlie had driven her home and had called the school to let them know that she would be gone for the rest of the day, after which Bella was force-fed Tylenol and unceremoniously bundled upstairs to rest. She felt badly for worrying Charlie so, but her head was hurting and the shock of the day had left her limp and wrung out, so she really didn’t have much time to feel too bad about things before she fell asleep.

She remained in bed for the rest of the day; Charlie stayed home as well, and brought her chicken noodle soup for a late lunch and sat with her to keep her company. When she finished, Charlie had produced the handset to his bedroom phone and, almost apologetically, told her that they needed to call Renée.

Bella had sighed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to talk to her mom, but she knew she was going to have to brace herself for the incoming storm when she heard what had happened. Renée had lost her older sister to a car crash before Bella had been born, which would have been enough to give anyone a bit of a complex about it, but ever since their accident in Phoenix, Renée could get down right hysterical regarding car collisions. Bella privately suspected that it was in part motivated by guilt, in that Renée had walked away from it with barely a scratch on her, while Bella had taken the brunt of it. After a short discussion, Charlie ended up being the one to make the call, on the grounds that with Bella’s lingering headache, Renée’s initial bout of shrieking upon hearing the news would not be good for her.

Bella was glad they’d made that decision; despite Charlie having first reassured Renée that Bella was fine, upon being told that she’d been involved in minor accident, Bella had been able to hear Renée’s screech of “What?!” from across the room.

Wincing, Charlie had hastily reiterated that she was fine, that she hadn’t been touched, that it was only a near miss, and then had promptly pawned the phone off on Bella.

“Hi, Mom, I’m okay,” she’d greeted her, and then patiently answered all her panicky questions, reassuring her again and again that she was fine, that she’d gotten out of the way, and that the other car hadn’t even touched her. It had taken a while to talk Renée down, but Bella had eventually managed. By the end of the conversation, her head had begun to throb again, so she guiltily but gratefully passed her teary mother back to Charlie, so he could offer his own round of reassurances, and Bella went back to sleep.

With all phone calls made and no homework from school, Saturday had been spent in quiet boredom. Charlie had been planning to go fishing that day, since Sunday was game day, but he instead stayed home again. By then Bella had felt fine and had wanted to get up, which Charlie had categorically forbidden. She managed to at least talk him into letting her go downstairs and sit on the couch so she could watch TV; he gave in only under pressure (and a bit of calculated whining), and even then had escorted her down the stairs like she was about to break. He did loosen up when she asked for a movie, and the two of them ended up watching Some Like It Hot together.

He very nearly cancelled game day without telling her. He would have gotten away with it if Billy hadn’t called while she was sitting right there and she overheard him saying that he didn’t think it was a good idea to have all the noise and commotion in the house while Bella was recovering.

“No, Dad!” she had protested. “I’m really fine. I don’t mind Billy and Jacob coming over. And it’s the playoffs, too. If it’s too much, I’ll just go upstairs.”

“Bella.” Charlie’s voice was overly-patient. “You have a head injury, and all that mess and noise will only make things worse. They’ll understand.”

“I only bumped my head,” she argued, “and I feel fine. Seriously, Dad,” she pled. “I’m okay, and there’s no need for it.” She grimaced. “Honestly, I’m bored to death sitting around all day, and some company would be fun—for both of us.”

Charlie had been very stubborn on the issue; Bella had grabbed the receiver on the end table and inserted herself into the conversation, telling Billy that she was fine and that she wanted them to come over and that Charlie was being a fusspot. She managed to wear him down, but it had taken a great deal of time and wheedling on her part. He’d continued to waffle on the issue for what felt like an unnecessarily long time, but in the end he’d finally relented, on the condition that Bella not have to do any work and that she would go upstairs if her head started to hurt. She’d agreed, sealed the deal with a Witch’s Honor, and they’d arranged it so that Billy and Jacob would bring the food.

So it was that Sunday that Billy and Jacob came over as usual, bringing an enormous pot of chili, a big pan of cornbread, and a gallon of ice cream with a bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream. Jacob had been vastly disappointed to find that Bella had no outward signs of her accident (other than the ring of dark, finger-shaped bruises that had come in on her left upper arm). “You could have at least tried to get a cool scar or something,” he reproached her.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she said dryly. “Would it help you to know that I do actually have a plate in my head from a different accident?”

Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Oh, man, yeah—that’s just cool!” he gushed. “You’re the Six-Million Dollar Woman!”

“And you,” said Billy, his voice dry, “are the Brainless Wonder.” He smiled at Bella where she was reclining on the sofa, ignoring his son’s outrage. “We’re glad you’re all right, honey,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” she said with a smile.

And she was, particularly after she’d found out the details of her accident. On Saturday she’d been awakened by the usual banging of the pipes; Charlie had showered and gone out early while he thought she was still asleep. She’d drifted back off again, but been jarred away by the sound of the door when he came home. He’d come upstairs and peered in at her, and smiled to find her awake, even though he looked a bit shaken. “How are you, Bells?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she’d answered, sitting up but keeping the warm blankets tucked around her. “Feeling much better today.” She regarded him, all clean and dressed so early on a Saturday morning. “Where did you go?”

Charlie looked a bit uncomfortable. “Well, I—Mark called, and he had the report for your accident all written up, so I went to go have a look and add yours to it.” He looked at the floor, but then had come over to sit on the edge of her bed. “You saw that your car is okay when we brought it home, but…” he trailed off for a moment, looking at his hands, and then haltingly spoke again. “That van slammed right up against it broadside. If you’d still been standing there…”

Bella hadn’t been able to help her shiver, and took Charlie’s hand as much for her own comfort as his. “Well—I guess all we can say is that I wasn’t.”

He gave a small, humorless chuckle. “Guess so.” He was quiet a moment, and then rather to Bella’s surprise, said, “I had to call Carlisle—so I could say thank you to the Cullen boy.” He looked up. “He might have saved your life, Bella.”

Bella felt her face heating uncomfortably, and she let Charlie’s hand go to tuck her arms under the blankets. “Yeah, I—I need to say thank you too,” she said.

“They asked after you—I’m sure they’ll want to see you at school on Monday—if you’re feeling up to it,” he’d added hastily, and Bella had assured him that she was.

And now it was Monday, and here she was. She’d felt fine, and her car was fine too, if rather battered on the driver’s side (Jacob said he would take it back home and beat the dents out of it the next weekend), but Charlie insisted in taking her to school himself, and would pick her up for her appointment this afternoon.

Bella found, rather to her chagrin, that her popularity had spiked since her accident. Well, not popularity, exactly, but definitely her notoriety; she found herself being stopped in the halls to get well-wishes from people that she only vaguely recognized. In class her friends were overly-accommodating, and she felt like she’d been thrown back to her first day at Forks High, what with everyone asking her the same questions and her parroting back her disappointing stock answer. At least she managed to get all her missed assignments from her teachers, and Jessica once again let her copy her history notes.

At lunch, Ben and Jessica, who hadn’t been there, had wanted to hear all about her adventure, and all at the table seemed faintly disappointed at Bella’s lackluster recounting of the events. She could only apologetically tell them that as far as she could remember, one minute she’d been standing by her car, and the next she’d been on the ground. No life-flashing-before-her-eyes or anything interesting like that. She’d been rather relieved to let Mike take over the storytelling—and rather interested to hear what had happened from his point of view. He’d actually been interviewed as a witness; he hadn’t been close enough to see who had been involved, but he’d watched the action from a distance and seen how the entire accident had played out, and was quite proud to have been able to aid Deputy Gillespie with his account.

Tyler stopped her in the hall as she walked with Mike and Angela to biology. “Hi, Bella,” he said warmly, and she smiled back at him.

“Like your war wounds,” she said, gesturing to his bandage. “Good stories for the ladies,” she joked.

Tyler laughed. “Yeah, guess so. I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he said.

“Great,” she answered. “Just a big knot on the head, but that’s nothing I haven’t had before. You?”

“I’m good too.” He looked slightly sheepish. “I—I’m just really glad no one was hurt.”

“Oh, believe me, me too,” she said with a wry smile, and he grinned back, and at a bit of a loss of what else to say, she wished him a good day and said she’d see him around, and then trotted off to biology.

She slowed a little as she approached, a vague feeling of discomfort settling in her belly. She hadn’t seen Edward since Friday morning, and now that she was about to, she didn’t really know what to say.

Well, she knew what she needed to say: she was going to thank him for what he did. But she felt like she should say something else. Yeah, he’d been a total freak on her first day, but since then, while he’d definitely been peculiar, he’d never done anything like that again. He would have his weird little bouts of staring out the window where he seemed to forget that she existed, and he was still just generally kinda creepy, but whenever he’d spoken to her, he’d always been polite, even if he was a bit stiff and awkward about it. He really hadn’t deserved her near-hostility for that.

And now he’d gone and saved her from what might have at best been some very debilitating injuries, and at worst, much worse, and she was left feeling like something of a heel.

Well—weird, creepy, or otherwise, she was going to say thank you, and she was going to be nice from here on out.

Bella marched into the lab with new resolve, although she was waylaid by several of her classmates brightly asking after her. D.J. even grinningly told her that she was pretty badass for playing Chicken while outside of the car, and she just laughed.

She eventually made it back to her bench, and rather than the usual urge to roll her eyes, she actually felt a tiny giggle in her throat when she saw that, yes, Edward was having one of his episodes, hunched over and stiff and staring out the window without even acknowledging her presence. Well, she’d just have to wait him out, and so she did, settling into her seat and then turning a little to face him, so she would see him when he finally rejoined reality.

He eventually did, just a minute or so before the bell was to ring. He swung around in his seat, his face composed—and then he seemed to start when he found that she was looking at him, like he always did when he found her looking at him. And then he blinked at her, looking a bit bewildered when she gave him her friendliest smile. “Hi, Edward,” she said.

He stared, and then darted his eyes around, as if looking for an escape route or something, before he finally wet his lips and said, “Hi,” back.

Feeling her cheeks warm a little, she plunged forward all the same. “I didn’t—I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” she said. “For Friday.”

“Oh.” Edward’s cheeks darkened a little too, and he looked down at his lap, fiddling with the cuff of his shirtsleeve. “It—uh—it wasn’t anything special.”

“Well, it was to me,” she retorted with a little laugh. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d have been smeared all over the side of Tyler’s van.”

Her smile faltered as his head snapped up, and for a moment she swore she saw that terrifying gleam in his eyes from the first day of class—but then it was gone, and he was just looking at her warily.

“I—well, I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, a bit hurriedly, fiddling a little with the Kokopelli charm on her necklace.

Edward looked away for a moment, tugging a distracted hand through his hair and seeming to cast about for a moment, but then looked back at her and hesitantly said, “Well, you…you’re welcome.”

Every conversation with him somehow turns awkward, she reflected rather wryly, but she didn’t say anything about it, didn’t roll her eyes, and did her best to keep her annoyance off of her face. He was still looking at her like he half-expected her to hit him or something, and on impulse, she said, “Maybe…maybe I can get you lunch sometime?”

He looked startled, and her felt her cheeks heating up as she realized how that might have sounded, but she pressed on, “Or you could, I dunno, let me buy you a coffee or something. I feel like I owe you something—for my own conscience, at least.”

Edward was just staring at her, and Bella was just about ready to give up. But then suddenly, he smiled. It was just a little one, and it was almost shy. “I—all right,” he said tentatively. And then, almost timidly, he added, “Your conscience can buy me a coffee.”

Bella almost did a double-take—had he just made a joke? From his suddenly anxious expression, as though worried that he’d offended her, she guessed he had and that he had surprised himself as much as her with it, and she couldn’t help smirking. “All right, then,” she said. “‘Cause I can tell you now, I’m definitely not fast enough to really return the favor and save you from any kind of peril you might get yourself into, so coffee is probably the best you’re ever gonna get back from me.”

He blinked, and then slowly, that smile came back, and it was wider this time, and even though her cheeks were warming again, she smiled back, and was still smiling when Mr. Banner called the class to order.

Chapter Text

“You know what we oughta do? We should get together next weekend or something and have a bonfire out at the beach.”

It was Monday at lunch; Bella was tucked in between Eric and Angela at their usual table. She’d been tired this morning, but she was awake now, so there was no way she’d misheard what Mike had just said.

“The beach?” she asked incredulously. “In February?”

Mike nodded enthusiastically. “We’re supposed to have a few clear days coming up. We should go out and soak up some rays while we can,” he said.

Bella scrunched up her nose. “I’m sorry—I’m having trouble with the idea of February being any kind of month to go to the beach.”

“That’s because you’re an out-of-state pansy,” Ben informed her. “A real Washington native gets sun in the winter any chance they can.”

“What? Hey, I’m not out-of-state, I was born right here!” Bella protested. At the collective eyerolls she got, she added, “And anyway, the chief of the Quileute tribe is my godfather—I’m practically a member, which makes me more native than any of you! But that doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause normal people generally don’t go to the beach in the middle of winter!”

“Spoken by someone who lived in a desert her whole life,” remarked Eric, and then he winked at her.

Mike grinned at Bella’s huff, and said, “Anyway, it’s not like we’re going to be out in the water or anything—the beach just has great scenery, and we can get a fire going and hang out. Let’s get something going,” he said to the table, “and you’ll see what we mean—it’s fun,” he added to Bella.

“Yeah, let’s,” Jessica jumped in. “We can have a cookout down there, if the rain’ll let up.”

“Great—why don’t we all ask around, see if we can’t get a big bunch of people to go?” Mike answered.

Bella felt a pleasant warmth in her middle; she’d heard people making plans for the weekends all around her, but this was the first time she’d been included. She happily listened as names were tossed around, people they could ask to join them, plans for getting hotdogs and chips and drinks, and Angela wanted s’mores. By the time lunch was over there were pretty solid plans for a big bunch of them to head out to First Beach either this weekend or the next.

Their table started to break up a few minutes before the bell would ring to send them to class. Bella rose with the rest of them and trailed along at the back of the bunch as they threw away their trash and headed out.

The cafeteria was something of an obstacle course today. It was the dreaded Singles Awareness Day, otherwise known as Valentine’s Day, and it was more than obvious. The student council ran a yearly fundraiser selling valentines consisting of cards, candy, and one to three balloons each, and the cafeteria was a veritable forest of red, pink, and white balloon bouquets. They were especially thick at what Bella thought of as the “jock” side of the room. StuCo members had been popping in and out of the classrooms all day today making deliveries, and she suspected that they would be in her afternoon classes too—well, maybe not gym, but probably biology.

Bella, of course, hadn’t gotten one. Just as well, really; Lent had started particularly early this year, and even though she didn’t really go to church anymore except on Christmas and Easter, she still did the old Lenten fast routine. She’d given up chocolate this year, which kind of ruled out enjoying your typical valentine very much. As far as she was concerned, wearing a heart-shaped locket and a red shirt today was all the acknowledgement of the holiday that she needed to make.

After weaving their ways through the cafeteria and out the red, pink, and white heart-covered doors (apparently StuCo decorated the gym and cafeteria doors with a theme for every month), they split up to head to class, with Bella following along after Mike and Angela as usual. More balloons were sticking out of lockers all down the hall like bizarre floating bunches of grapes. They slipped into the classroom, and Bella was amused to see that Mr. Banner had put up a slide on the overhead projector with micrographs of Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, HIV, and the like, and had scrawled in red marker across it “HAPPY VD.” The three of them had a chuckle before going to their respective seats, Mike and Angela veering off to the left, and Bella going on towards the back—

Her steps stuttered a little, but she kept walking, although a bit slower as she tried to take in what she was seeing.

Her bench was swarming with balloons.

And buried right in the middle of it was Edward.

He wasn’t looking at her; that was normal, except the way he wasn’t looking at her was quite different than his usual stare-off-out-the-window routine. No, he was wrestling furiously with the tangled ribbons that were the strings, trying to wrangle them into some sort of order to tie them together into a knot. Soft squeaks and bounces filled the air above the bench as mass of balloons gently shook and bumped as he grappled with them, keeping his eyes deliberately on the wad of valentines in his hands and most definitely not on her.

Bella slowly let her bag drop to the ground and made a small show of very deliberately trying to clear a space above her seat. “Well, I was going to wish you a ‘Happy VD’,” she said dryly, “but from the looks of this, you don’t need it from me—seeing as you’re apparently the biggest pimp in Forks.”

Edward’s pale cheeks darkened and he shot her a rather dirty look. “I am not,” he muttered defensively, finally managing to tie his haul together so he could push them roughly out of the way and onto the floor. “Rose got way more than I did,” he added, with the air of proving something.

Bella snorted. She hadn’t really met them—aside from that very unsettling run-in on her first day—but she’d gathered from gossip and from Edward himself that Emmett Cullen, the man-mountain, was dating his foster sister Rosalie. Bella found that to be quite weird and slightly gross, no matter that they weren’t really related, but it was their business—except how the two of them were apparently quite publicly affectionate. Bella had also gotten the impression that Edward was irritated by this, furthered by the note of exasperation in his voice just now when he mentioned Rosalie’s valentines.

“I don’t think that counts if she gets them from her boyfriend,” she informed him. “Your, ah, harem, on the other hand…” she trailed off with an amused smirk at his flushed, sullen expression.

“I don’t have a harem,” he said peevishly. “They’re just—they’re just nice girls.”

Bella snorted again. “Uh-huh,” she said, taking out her books. He may have had a very disconcerting stare and strange mannerisms, but in general she noticed that when Edward Cullen had come up in conversation with her female classmates, they really didn’t seem to mind those all that much.

She rather wryly reflected that she was getting used to them herself; she kind of had to, what with the way he always seemed to put his…oddities on display for her. Like now—she’d just shaken out her hair to put it up in a clip, and there he went, whirling abruptly in his seat to stare fixedly out the window.

He got over his little episode in time for lecture to start. They’d moved on from cell reproduction, thank goodness, and now were into metabolism. Of course, they were studying it on a much less in-depth level than Bella would like—she was still annoyed that one of her sciences had been dropped down to a regular class instead of AP—but it could be worse.

Just as she had suspected, midway through class there came a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal two girls with heart-shaped StuCo badges on their chests, carrying more bunches of balloons.

She heard Edward give a tiny, resigned sigh when one of the girls—June, Bella thought her name was—gigglingly called out his name from the bundle in her hands. He raised his arm, and she skipped over to where he sat and just handed off the whole bunch to him, her cheeks pink as she did. Edward gave her a kind smile in return, and she giggled again before going back to her friend.

Bella watched as he dutifully opened and read his new cards. Ever helpful, Bella offered, “I think you should get a big purple hat with a wide brim and a long feather.”

“Shut up,” he shot back petulantly, his cheeks coloring again, and she just snickered.

She was intrigued when she saw that Angela was getting a valentine too—from the look on her face, Bella had a pretty good idea who it was from.

“Isabella Swan?”

Bella’s head snapped forward in surprise; the other StuCo girl, one last valentine in her hand, was looking expectantly around the room. Flustered, Bella managed to say, “Uh—right here,” and raised her hand a little, only to find herself duly presented with the last valentine. After making eyes at Edward, the girl bounced back to her friend and they both skittered out of the room.

Her face flushing, Bella looked down at the valentine in her hands like it was going to bite her. It was the same coarse red paper that they all were, folded into quarters to make a card, with hearts and the words "Be My Valentine" printed on the front. There was a simple red-and-white, heart-shaped sucker taped to the front, and from a hole punched in the upper left corner stretched a piece of pink curl ribbon that tethered the single white balloon that bobbed over her head.

Feeling like there were eyes on her from all directions (which was ridiculous, nobody was looking at her—well, except Edward, but he was always giving her those creepy looks of his and didn’t count), she opened it up.

The words “Happy Valentine’s Day” had been printed inside. But below that there was a written message:

Bells:

Just wanted to let you know that your old dad is happy to have you around. The food is certainly better now that you’re here. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Dad

The handwriting was wide and loopy and with hearts dotting the i’s, obviously filled out by one of the (female) organizers, but the words were Charlie’s. Touched, Bella found herself smiling down at the card—how on earth had he known that they were selling valentines at school?

Still smiling, she leaned down to tuck the card away in her backpack, leaving the balloon to stick out from the zipper, and then sat up and went back to taking notes.

Following lecture, Mr. Banner passed out the ubiquitous worksheets, giving an oblique warning about a “possible” quiz tomorrow over the steps they studied in the Krebs Cycle; Bella penciled in a note at the top of her worksheet to remind herself to study tonight—maybe she’d go spend half an hour in the library after school to go over it.

As she put her worksheet away in her folder—she always used a green one for biology—she looked up and found herself meeting Edward’s eyes. Fighting her usual urge to blush when she did, she noticed that his expression had a faintly superior air. “I see I’m not the only ‘pimp’ in Forks,” he said, pointing almost accusingly at the balloon floating lazily over her bag.

Bella made a rude noise. “Oh, yeah, my one valentine with my one balloon. I’m a real player,” she sneered. “How many do you have, again? I mean, I saw the two you got this hour—how many is that total?”

The superciliousness dropped off Edward’s face pretty quickly, and he hunched his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck before muttering, “Six.”

Bella gave him a very pointed look and went back to putting her book and papers away, and then slung her bag up on the benchtop to wait for the bell. Edward was doing the same, she saw, only he was rather hindered by the wad of balloons he was struggling with.

It was a ridiculously display, and Bella couldn’t help but remark, “You know, you’d probably have an easier time of it if you put those in your locker, instead of carrying them around like a trophy all day.”

Edward flushed again. “It’s not a trophy,” he said after a minute. “I just—I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” When he glanced over at her and saw her puzzled look, he added haltingly, “They were—nice enough to send me a card and I want to let them know that I—that I got them, and that I, uh, appreciate it.”

Bella looked at him, faintly surprised, while he picked at a frayed thread on his backpack. She gave a small chuff and said, “Well—that’s nice, then.” And it was, really, if a little odd. “Do you run into those girls a lot or something?”

Edward scratched his head, fidgeting a little; his tugging caused a cowlick to flip up in the back. “Uh, well, they’re, ah, mostly anonymous,” he admitted, “but they know they sent them, and I wouldn’t want anyone to think that I, you know, brushed them off or anything.” His eyes flicked in her direction. “I mean, you don’t want the person who sent yours to think that, do you?”

Bella chuckled. “Oh, he won’t,” she said. Charlie, after finding out that Bella was giving up chocolate for Lent, had painfully sacrificed his beloved ice cream bars for the duration as a show of solidarity. She was already modifying her dinner plans for tonight to include a batch Valentine’s Day red velvet cupcakes; she could run by the store for a box of cake mix and a tub of frosting after school, and they’d be ready by dessert-time.

Edward was frowning at the loose thread on his bag; his tugging was causing it to unravel further. Bella turned to look at the clock, and in doing so, she met Angela’s eye. She was a bit pink in the face, and when she saw Bella looking her way, she gestured her over. Mr. Banner didn’t mind the students milling around at the end of class, so Bella shouldered her bag and slid out of her seat and across the aisle.

Angela was holding her Valentine, and Bella’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of it. Feeling a grin start on her face, she leaned in and said, “Dare I ask?”

Angela muffled a tiny giggle. “It’s from Ben,” she whispered, and Bella let out a quiet giggle of her own. “He—he asked if we could do something sometime.”

“Nice,” she congratulated, her suspicions confirmed. Ben was a bit flirty with everyone, but even Bella had picked up on the fact that it was a bit more intense where Angela was concerned. “I take it you’re gonna?”

Angela beamed. “Yeah. I—I’ll have to see if I can find him after class and—and see what he wants to do,” she bubbled.

“All right—high-five,” Bella said, and Angela gave her raised palm a little smack with her own. “For a successful turnaround of Singles Awareness Day.”

“What about you?” Angela asked, gesturing with her chin to the balloon over Bella’s shoulder. “You have a secret admirer?”

Bella opened her mouth to answer, but the bell abruptly went off and anything she would have said was drowned out in the sudden clamor to leave. She waited until Angela had grabbed her bag, and turning to walk out with her, went to answer again—when she nearly ran right into Edward, who had appeared right next to her.

He jumped back just as much as she did, and her hand flew up to her chest. “Good Lord, Edward, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He looked abashed. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Hello, Angela,” he added over her shoulder, and Bella looked back to find Angela blinking a bit dippily up at him, but then she shook herself and coughed.

“Um, hi, Edward,” she managed, and then looked meaningfully at Bella and started towards the door. Bella followed—only to have Edward fall in step next to her. This is strange, she thought, looking up at him with knitted eyebrows. He was looking off and didn’t seem to notice—at least until he glanced down at her, met her eyes, and then looked quickly aside again.

“Who sent you your valentine, Bella?” Angela suddenly asked again, her voice insistent.

“What? Oh—that was just from my dad,” Bella answered with a smile that was only slightly sheepish. “I have no idea how he knew he could send one.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Angela said. She’d stopped outside the hall and was craning her neck around, no doubt looking for Ben. “I don’t…”

Bella looked around too but didn’t see Ben’s dark head anywhere. “I don’t see him either—I guess you can go on to your locker. He might be waiting for you,” she added, and Angela turned pink but headed off in that direction with a wave.

Turning the other way, she caught sight of Edward, still standing next to her, only now he was smiling faintly. It dropped off his face when he saw her looking curiously at him, and he harrumphed. “So—ah—you have gym next, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, bemused, as she started down the hall and toward her locker, only to have him trail along next to her. “You?”

“Spanish,” he said, with a clear lack of enthusiasm. “Ben Cheney is in class with me,” he offered, and Bella looked up at him in surprise. “If you wanted me to, um, ask him—”

“Hey, Bella!”

Speak of the devil—Ben was zipping down the hall in their direction. His steps faltered briefly when he saw Edward, but he kept coming. “Hey, Ben,” she said, unable to help the knowing smile on her face.

“Hi—ah, did you see where Angela went after you got out?” he asked nonchalantly.

She had to admire his coolness. “She went to her locker—she was looking for you,” she added slyly.

He just grinned at her and winked. “Thanks,” he said.

“Go for it, man,” she said, and he laughed. His face sobered quickly for a moment, he rather tersely said, “Edward,” to which he was answered with a polite, “Ben,” and then he was dashing off in the other direction.

Bella watched him go, smiling, and then turned. “Guess you won’t have to ask him anything,” she remarked to Edward, who actually grinned, which had the unfortunate side effect of making her flush a little.

“Guess not,” he agreed.

As she started towards her locker again, Edward still walking along with her. She wondered if Ben and Angela would still want to waste a weekend at the beach, if they were going to be an item now. She didn’t see why not, though, since it was going to be a big group and all—it would be fun. And she suspected Eric would tease—he was always jokingly hitting on Ben, since he was always happy to flirt back, unlike so many boys their age seemed to be (Eric had mentioned at lunch that he thought it would have been a grand joke if he’d sent a valentine to some guy on the football team who was considered terribly good looking but apparently was also a complete jerk who would be outraged at the suggestion that he might be into “that gay shit;” Eric had refrained only from the very real possibility that he’d get beaten up).

And while she was on the subject of going to the beach…

She’d just arrived at her locker, stopping and turning to face Edward, who had suddenly seemed to have lost whatever motivation he had to be following her and was looking vaguely trapped. Well, why not? Taking a breath, she just went ahead and said, “Speaking of Ben and Angela, at lunch we were talking about getting a group together to go out to La Push to hang out on the beach on a weekend soon.” Edward was blinking down at her, and she felt her face heating up but went on anyway. “Did—did you have any plans for the weekend? This one or the next? Would—would you like to come?”

Edward looked startled, which did nothing to ease her own discomfort. He opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips, and then tried again. “Well, actually I—we do have plans,” he said slowly. “I—my family—we go camping on the weekends. Out in Olympic National Park.”

“Oh.” She felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. “Every weekend?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Edward answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We were just there yesterday, and we’ll be going again next Saturday.”

“Oh. Well, maybe next time,” she said, smiling anyway.

“Probably not,” he muttered, then flushed when he looked up, but he smiled a little. “I can’t swim. And I don’t tan at all.”

Bella laughed. That she could believe. “Me neither,” she said, sticking out her arm and flashing the pale underside of her wrist. She regretted it, though, because he got a very weird look on his face and looked sharply away; she dropped her arm rather uncomfortably. She was about to just go back to her locker when Edward’s head suddenly shot up, and he spun around, and—

“Edward!”

A pink streak was flying down the hall. It came skittering to a halt right next to Edward, who was looking both vaguely panicked and pained at the same time. Bella blinked to find Edward’s other sister, Alice, standing right up next to him, grinning her strange grin and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was wearing an eye-blindingly bright pink sweatshirt sprinkled with rhinestone hearts, her jeans had sequined heart patches sewn all over them, her pink tennis shoes had sparkly magenta laces, her short black hair was crowned with heart-shaped deely boppers, and she was wearing a big pair of pink heart-shaped novelty glasses with pink lenses. “Look what Emmett showed me!” she squealed, and Bella’s eyes widened a little to see her hold a red balloon aloft like a weapon, before bringing its untied end to her mouth and sucking down the helium until there was nothing left.

“He says I sound like Minnie Mouse!”

Bella stifled a snort. Emmett wasn’t quite accurate—no way Minnie’s voice was that shrill.

“Isn’t that the funniest thing ever?” Alice squeaked, hopping where she stood, the glittery pink hearts on her head dancing wildly.

“I don’t know about ‘ever’,” Edward sighed, smiling wanly. “But yes, it’s very funny—and Emmett needs to stop telling you these things.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s obnoxious, that’s why,” Edward replied firmly.

Alice suddenly seemed to notice Bella. This wasn’t necessarily a good thing, because now she was staring at her, grinning fit to split her face. And she kept just staring at her, not moving, until Edward loudly cleared his throat and said, “Bella, have you met my foster sister Alice?”

“Not officially,” she said, grateful for his inserting himself. “I, uh, sorta ran into her a while back—literally.”

Alice was still just beaming, her face seemingly frozen that way, and it was getting very creepy—well, more creepy than she was already. “Well, then—Bella, this is Alice, and Alice, this is Bella Swan,” Edward said.

Alice’s hand shot straight out, and Bella was rather absurdly reminded of a scene from Fern Gully, but she gingerly took the proffered hand. Her fingers were immediately clamped in an icy grip, and her hand pumped three times, very precisely; Charlie would have called it a politician’s handshake. “Hello, Bella!” Alice trilled, her voice back to its normal (if weirdly flat) pitch, and her every word precisely enunciated. “It is a pleasure to meet you!”

“Uh, you too,” Bella said, faintly disconcerted as she took her hand back. Alice was still standing there, smiling toothily up at her, and she was relieved to have the chance to look away from her when she heard Edward calling someone over.

Her relief didn’t last long; he was calling to someone named Jasper, and Bella suddenly found herself confronted by yet another Cullen, and she shrank back against her locker, feeling cornered.

“Jasper—Alice needs to get to her next class,” Edward was saying, his voice tight. Bella glanced up to see a tall pale boy with a tumble of blond curls and a West Point hoodie reach down and take Alice by the hand.

“Come along, Alice,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a faint Texas drawl that, while out of place up here, Arizona-raised Bella found somewhat familiar. His eyes flicked upwards, and he nodded politely to Bella as he tugged Alice away.

“Bye, Bella!” Alice chirped, and then skipped along after Jasper.

Bella watched them go and then shook herself, only to find Edward looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, sorry about that. Alice can be a little overwhelming. She’s hyperkinetic,” he added.

“Oh. Well, it’s all right. She—she’s just friendly,” Bella said, trying to smooth things over, although she rather privately thought that might explain a few things about Alice.

Edward gave a wry chuckle. “Yeah—she’s definitely that.” He looked down for a moment, and then back up with a small smile. “I guess I’d better get to class,” he said.

“Yeah—me too,” Bella said, smiling again. “I’ll see you around.”

“You too,” he said, and then he turned and started down the hall, gliding around passing students with his bevy of balloons bobbing along behind him.

As it happened, the weather decided not to cooperate and put paid to the idea of a beach trip, and so their plans were pushed back a week. But Bella made it out to La Push that weekend anyway.

The last Swan-Black get-together (she refused to call them Black-Swan get-togethers—categorically refused) had been the next weekend after her accident, back at the first of February for Superbowl Sunday. She had been fine, and had gotten a clean bill of health from her follow-up doctor’s appointment, but it had still taken her a great deal of reassuring Charlie that she was up to entertaining. He’d finally given in, and they’d gone all out. Bella had recruited Charlie as a grunt, and they’d whipped up a feast: pigs-in-a-blanket, barbecue wings, devilled eggs, tortilla wraps filled with a mix of cream cheese, shredded chicken, and salsa, and Bella made vanilla cupcakes decorated in the team colors. When Billy and Jacob had arrived, they’d come bearing stuffed peppers, chips and dip, cheese and crackers, potato salad, and sodas and beer. They’d hung out the whole day, watching all the pre-game show, the game itself, and all the after party, and had just gorged themselves.

Bella had had a blast; she didn’t care about the game, but the commercials were a hoot, and Billy and Jacob were a barrel of fun, as usual. She and Jacob had been given permission to have two beers each, rather than their usual one apiece, and looking back on it, she was pretty sure they both drank them too fast and subsequently got a little goofy.

Jacob had been very annoyed to find that the halftime show was Paul McCartney. “Aw, man, no, gross!” he’d yelled at the screen, waving a half-eaten wrap in the direction of the TV. “I don’t wanna watch his wardrobe malfunction! Where’s Janet Jackson?”

Bella had smacked him, and in trying to retaliate he’d dumped his plate all over the floor, which sent them both into fits of giggles for no reason until Billy amusedly told them to settle down and clean up their mess.

Since nobody particularly cared who won or lost, Bella and Jacob had set themselves up as rivals, picking their team to support at random and making disparaging remarks about the other just because. Jacob backed the Patriots, who won, and had gloated enormously over it afterwards. Bella had huffily told him that he shouldn’t be so full of himself, because now the team was just gonna move west and steal all his land, and then he'd threatened to burn her wagon, and things had degenerated into general silliness by that point.

The fun kept on pretty late, only breaking up at the reminder that certain parties did have to go to school the next day. But since then, with football season done, there was nothing else to occupy them until March Madness, so they hadn’t had another party.

But that Wednesday evening of the week of Valentine’s Day, they’d gotten a call after dinner from Billy, and he’d invited them both out to a get-together at their place. He’d played dirty; he said that he was planning a fish-fry, which meant there was no way Bella was going to miss out on that. Charlie promised to bring some of his catches, and his fishing buddy Harry Clearwater and his family were invited too, and between the two of them they could supply enough fish to feed an army (or at least Jacob). So on Thursday Charlie had thawed and cleaned a string of fish, and that Friday night the two of them had driven out to the coast in the pouring rain.

She’d expected good fish and good company—she wasn’t quite sure how she wound up on the periphery of a belching contest, though.

Harry Clearwater she knew; he was one of Charlie’s fishing compatriots along with Waylon Forge, and she would usually see him on her previous summer visits. But he was accompanied by his wife Sue and his kids Leah and Seth. Charlie knew everybody and was right at home, but after Harry had wanted to hear all about her move and how she liked living in Forks, Bella had found herself hanging back a little. She tended to when she was meeting new people, and just sat back and listened and laughed at all the stories and ate way too much fish and french-fries and hushpuppies (Billy was the undisputed king of the fryer).

The group had kind of split in two after dinner; the adults didn’t precisely close ranks on them, but their conversation sort of took a turn for the uncomfortable: Billy had also invited Harry’s sister Mrs. Young and her daughter and son-in-law, Emily and Sam Uley, but they hadn’t shown up and hadn’t called either, and now all the adults were talking somewhat seriously about the latter two. With the mood rather souring at the table, the four kids had taken their bowls of ice cream and wandered out into the living room, where Bella found herself sitting mostly quietly while the others talked. She didn’t mind, although she had thought that she’d have a bit more to contribute, what with Jacob being there, but turned out that the other three had pretty much grown up together, so Bella kind of wound up in the same position of The Outsider that she was at school.

That, and Jacob wasn’t quite…himself tonight. And Bella had a very good idea why.

Seth Clearwater was in eighth grade, and he was adorable. He was dwarfed next to the mile-long Jacob, and seeing as how he pretty much idolized him, his bouncing energy reminded Bella of the old Looney Tunes cartoons, with the eager little wiener-dog yapping all around the big swaggering bulldog. And the adulation had definitely put a something of swagger in Jacob’s step.

And then there was Leah. She was a senior in high school, and Bella had already felt slightly uncomfortable upon meeting her. She was older, she ran track, had an athletic scholarship already waiting for her in the University of Washington—and she was gorgeous. Long, lean, and dark, she looked like—well, like the perfect idealized image of the Indian Princess. Not that Bella had anything against people who were pretty and sporty, but they just generally ran in a much different crowd and usually didn’t gel with her somewhat nerdy, sedentary self.

Jacob, on the other hand, seemed to have no objections to Leah. At all. Leah hadn’t said much this evening either, really, and Seth’s eager chatter didn’t seem at all out of character for him, but Jacob was being rather…loud. And self-important. And obnoxious. And Bella could only sit back and wince in embarrassment at how he was puffing up in such a painfully obvious way.

Leah didn’t even seem to notice. She was coiled up in an armchair with her empty ice cream bowl and flipping idly through the TV Guide. Well, her lack of attention was quite unacceptable to Jacob, and so after he and Seth ran into the kitchen to get them all some sodas, Jacob had chugged half of his can in one go and let out a belch.

Seth had grinned, and then tossed his back and answered in kind, and before long the two of them were duking it out, ignoring Sue and Billy’s occasional reprimand from the kitchen.

Jacob had just let fly with a big one, and now was grinning smugly down at Seth. Seth furiously drank the remainder of his can, took a deep breath—and, no, he couldn’t quite manage anything as loud as Jacob.

“Ha!” Jacob crowed, and put Seth around the neck and proceeded to give him a noogie, despite his flailing. “I win!”

“Oh, yeah, a major victory,” Bella said dryly.

“Hell yeah, it is!” he smirked at her.

“Not for long.”

There was a pop and a hiss, and they all three looked over in surprise to see Leah, her face challenging, holding a newly-opened pop in her hand, and then she just threw it back, her throat working until she’d drained it, and then she dropped her head, took a breath—and then let rip with a world-class belch straight out of Revenge of the Nerds.

Jacob gawped; Seth just punched the air and hooted, and, even better, there came a loud laugh from the kitchen as Harry called, “That’s my girl!”

Leah smirked, and then crushed her can with one hand and tossed it right at Jacob, where it bounced off his chest. “Try again when you grow up, kid,” she said lazily, and as Bella burst into giggles, Leah winked at her, and her face made it clear that yeah, she knew exactly what Jacob was doing.

And, well, it turned out Leah and Bella did gel all right after all. While Jacob was sulking and taking it out on Seth, Leah leaned over and asked, “So—how do you deal with him?”

Bella giggled. “I run the kitchen when he comes and visits—he doesn’t behave, he doesn’t eat,” she said, and Leah laughed.

Bella, who was already awaiting hearing back on her PSAT scores from the fall and planning to start applying for scholarships in the spring, asked Leah what she was going to major in.

“Math and accounting,” she replied, rather to Bella’s surprise. “I’m good with numbers, and I’d like to get on with a company as a CPA. You have any plans?”

“Biochemistry,” she answered.

Leah made a face. “I suck at science,” she confessed. “Nixed any idea of a medical career or anything—which is no big loss, ‘cause I’m no good with people, either.”

Bella chuckled. “Yeah, me neither—I’m hoping to go into research. Maybe with a drug company or something,” she said.

“You looking at University of Washington?” Leah asked. “Or somewhere else—you’re lucky, having two in-state tuition options, here and wherever your mom lives.”

“Maybe,” Bella said. “Right now, yeah, UW looks good. My mom’s living in Texas now, but she and my stepdad might move again, so I’ll have to wait and see where they end up for what other schools I can get. I do want a full four-year education, and my grades are good so I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting admitted, so it’ll pretty much come down to where I can get the best deal money-wise.”

Leah nodded. “Yeah—I got offered a spot down in USC, but it wasn’t a full-ride, and neither me nor my parents could afford the difference,” she said. “But it’s cool—U-Dub is a good school. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

Bella smiled in agreement, but then noticed Leah furrowing her brow. Bella looked back over her shoulder, past where Jacob and Seth were horsing around on the other end of the sectional, and realized that the conversation seemed to have stopped around the kitchen table. Billy and Charlie were looking concerned, and Sue was watching Harry, who was standing in the far corner with his back to the room, talking urgently into his cell phone.

Leah shifted, making to get up, when Harry suddenly whirled around, putting away his phone, and leaned down to talk to Sue; Billy and Charlie looked shocked, and then Harry was charging out into the living room. “Kids, come on,” he said tightly. “Your cousin Emily is in the hospital.”

“What?!” Leah leapt to her feet. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, his voice grim. “That was your aunt; she didn’t know what happened either, just that Sam called her earlier and that he’d taken her in. She’s all right, that’s all I know, but she’s been hurt.” He snapped his fingers at Seth, who’d been sitting on the floor gaping, his roughhousing forgotten. Seth jumped to his feet, and Jacob scrambled up after him. Bella stood too, sliding past them to quickly go into the kitchen with Charlie.

There was a quiet, tense rush for coats and purses as the Clearwaters packed up. “We’re sorry to run out like this, Billy—” Sue started, but Billy hushed her.

“Don’t you worry about it, Sue,” he said firmly. “You go see Emily—and Sam. We’ll be thinking of you all.” Sue nodded gratefully as they four of them bundled out into the rain, dashing for their car.

Billy’s face was dark as he watched them go. The warm, happy mood in the house had fled, and Charlie suggested that he and Bella should probably go too.

“Yes, probably—I’m gonna have to start making some calls, to find out what happened—see if the police are getting involved,” Billy said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I hate that tonight turned out like this, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Charlie said easily. “And it was still a good night, before. Come on, Bells,” he said, and she obediently gathered up her coat and the Tupperware they’d brought the fish in.

Bella gave Billy a hug goodbye and thanked him for dinner, and when she saw Jacob looking still a bit befuddled by the sudden shift in the tone of the evening, she gave him a hug too, which he returned. “Hey—I meant to tell you,” she said, putting on her coat, “I think me and some friends are going to be down at First Beach next weekend—you should come hang out.”

Jacob made a pshawing noise. “That’s where the tourists go,” he said dismissively, albeit with a little smile. “Gonna do the whole bonfire thing?”

“Yeah,” Bella shrugged. “But it sounds fun anyway. And there’ll be food,” she added enticingly, and Jacob chuckled, seeming to recover a little of his usual good humor.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I just might drop by,” he said, and smirked, looking over to where Charlie was waiting patiently for her in the doorway, and then dropped his voice to his best gruff Chief of Police impression and said, “Go on, Bells.”

She left with a laugh, and then she and Charlie ran out through the downpour—Bella refused to go out without her umbrella, which Charlie still sometimes made fun of her for, since he was a “real” Washington native and just ran through the rain in his slicker—and got into the cruiser.

He started the car to get it warming up but didn’t pull out right away. “Man alive,” he said, exhaling. “What a mess—I hope Emily’s okay.”

“They didn’t hear at all what happened?” Bella asked, wondering if maybe Harry had censored his conversation, but Charlie just shook his head.

“No—he just heard that the poor gal was in the hospital. She and Sam are good kids—they don’t need this kind of thing, not now,” he said heavily. At Bella’s inquiring look, Charlie sighed again and said, “They—they’ve been having some trouble these days. They were both working their way through the community college up in PA, when all the sudden Sam drops out, starts getting all involved in tribal business—it’s been a rough patch for the both of them. We thought that might have been why they didn’t show tonight,” he said. “Trouble at home.” He frowned out at the water sheeting down the windshield. “I hope—I hope this wasn’t some kind of domestic situation, or something. I’d hate to find out Sam had gone as bad as his old man.”

Bella didn’t have much to say; she didn’t really know these people, and it was still strange to her, these small-town dramas that seemed to draw everyone in. She was just quiet, and after a moment, Charlie kicked on the heater, put the car in gear, and backed out of the driveway to head home.

Bella carefully slid the foil-covered dish into the hot oven and closed the door, straightening up to set the timer on the microwave. Then she sighed, turning off her music and wadding up her headphones, and with nothing better to do, plodded into the living room and flopped down on the couch.

It was late Sunday afternoon; Bella had danced her way through her chores, finished her homework, didn’t have any upcoming tests, and now that the lasagna was in the oven, she didn’t have anything to do until Charlie came home from fishing. Sighing again, she listlessly grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, wincing at the sudden blare of volume and quickly mashing the mute button. Then she flipped through the channels until she got to the TV Guide station and just watched the hypnotic scroll of the TV listings.

Nothing was appealing. She felt all bored and lazy and just sort of slouched back against the cushions, her eyes not really seeing the TV. Well, she had to give herself a little credit—she’d lasted a month and a half in Forks before it really hit home how dreary and dull she found this town. It was cold and wet outside, there were no good stores to run to, and she didn’t really feel like she knew anyone well enough to call someone up to hang out. She thought up to the closet in her room; she hadn’t looked at any of her old craft projects in a while, not since the move, but she really didn’t feel like doing anything now. If she was going to cross-stitch, she liked to do that watching TV with someone, not just sitting here by herself. She didn’t have any new jewelry projects in mind, doubly so since there weren’t really any good craft stores nearby that she knew of to buy anything she might need. And she had too many necklaces anyway.

The mood around the house had lifted a little, at least. Charlie had called Billy yesterday to ask about what happened to Emily Uley. Turned out it wasn’t any sort of domestic dispute, which Charlie had been glad to hear. What it had been, apparently, was some kind of foiled home invasion. Billy said Sam had come home in time to chase off an intruder who had been threatening Emily with a knife, but that he’d slashed her as a diversion so he could get away. It was only superficial, though, and she was going to be fine. Charlie had immediately been itching to do something in a professional capacity, to which Billy had only amusedly reminded him that they did have a police force out at La Push. Charlie had conceded, if grudgingly, but Bella could tell that he still was happy to hear that Emily would be all right and that she and Sam weren’t having marital issues.

That didn’t do anything to alleviate her boredom, though. She switched off the TV and meandered up the stairs. She didn’t have anything she wanted to do on the computer, so she passed it by and went over to her bookcase. It was new, a laminated particle board, quick-assembly kit sort of thing that Charlie had bought to dress up the room for when she moved in. She’d been more or less limited to reading books for English these days—they were just wrapping up Hawthorne, and to Bella’s disgust were moving on to Kate Chopin, who she despised—but now that she had a lazy afternoon to herself she figured she could lapse back into something more her style. She rather wryly noted, as she tended to since starting American Lit, that anyone could easily tell the shelf of her school books from the shelves of the books she bought for herself. School was full of depressing stuff, and lots of it from modern authors. Her personal shelves consisted of fantasy fluff, ancient history, and her beloved Dead White Guys, of course.

Most of her fantasy was modern sword and sorcery nonsense, very much a guilty pleasure. There was some good stuff in there too, though—Tolkien, of course, and Peter S. Beagle, C.S. Lewis and J.K. Rowling, and her collection of the original fourteen Baum Oz books. Her mom’s mom—Granny Marie—had been a huge fan of the series and had read them to her when she was little, and then Bella had inherited her collection when she passed away; Bella was not above feeling slightly smug in being one of the few people who knew that there wasn’t just a book behind the Judy Garland movie, but rather books.

Her history shelf wasn’t quite so full, but it was respectable; growing up in Arizona, she’d been exposed to a lot more American Indian culture than the average person in this country. Given that she’d enjoyed reading about ancient mythologies like the Greeks and the Egyptians since she was little, it wasn’t surprising that she’d expanded her hobby to include the legends of the Hopi, Navajo, and Zuni. Hmm. Now that she thought about it, her little collection was sadly lacking in the Northwestern tribes—doubly so since she actually had a little drop Quileute blood from her dad’s side of the family. She’d have to ask Billy if he knew any good books. Or heck—just ask Billy. He was the chief of the Quileute tribe, or what little remained of it, anyway. He was practically a primary source.

And there was her lit shelf—she really did favor older British and early American authors. She was the only person in her class last year who had voluntarily tackled Moby Dick for one of their book critiques. But she definitely wasn’t in the mood for that stuff. She wanted something a little lighter—maybe “light and sparkling,” even, she thought as she tipped out her fat copy of the Collected Works of Jane Austen. A little Pride and Prejudice never failed to improve her mood. It had to be good when even Charlie admitted to enjoying the BBC miniseries.

Bella had just made it downstairs with her book when the phone rang. She went into the kitchen to the main set; a quick look at the caller ID told her that it was Charlie. She picked up the phone, saying, “Hi, Dad—what’s up?”

“Hi, Bella.” She straightened; his voice was grim. “I’m not gonna be home for dinner tonight—you go on ahead without me,” he said.

“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked, growing alarmed.

“I’m fine,” he said. “But I’m out in Olympic National Park—some hikers found a couple of bodies.”

“Oh, no,” Bella said, a sinking feeling in her middle.

“A couple of campers. Some kind of wild animal must have got ‘em. They—well, they were torn up pretty bad,” Charlie said heavily. She heard him shout something to someone on the other end, and then he was talking back into the phone again. “I’m gonna be late tonight, sweetie—you go ahead and eat, don’t wait for me.”

“Okay, Dad—I’ll save you some leftovers.”

“That’ll be fine. Listen, I gotta go—I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Okay—bye, Dad,” she said, and he echoed her farewell, and then was gone with a click.

Bella sat the receiver back down in its cradle and wandered back out into the living room. Already the smell of tomato sauce and basil was starting to fill the house. She slid back onto the couch, and after a moment pulled the afghan from the back cushions and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Forks was a lot more violent than she remembered.

Chapter Text

The van was noisy, filled with laughter and chatter as they headed west. Bella laughed along when she could, but didn’t have too much to contribute, as usual. There were a couple of her classmates that she didn’t know as well as her usual lunch coterie—who, even then, she’d only known for two months—and as often as not she really didn’t have much to add to their conversations.

Not that she minded; she was content to look out the window at the scenery, the trees gradually thinning away and opening up to reveal the wild, rugged beaches of La Push.

Despite Mike making fun of Bella’s thin skin about what constituted beach weather, nobody had wanted to go out there last weekend in the pouring rain. Not to mention that test that had been scheduled for that Friday in Trig had been bumped to Monday, and everybody who had that class had agreed that they could use the extra time to study. And, of course, Ben and Angela had had their first official date that weekend—nobody wanted to break that up. The two of them had been the objects of a great deal of half-concealed cooing and snickering at lunch, which made Angela blush, while Ben bore it with his usual aplomb.

The two of them were sharing the back seat of Mike’s parents’ SUV along with Bella, talking and laughing with everyone else as usual; the only change in either of them was the way their hands were sitting clasped on the seat between them. Mike was driving, and Tyler Crowley was riding shotgun. He and Bella had both been a bit awkward around each other that morning when they’d all met up in the parking lot of Newton’s Olympic Outfitters, but he’d broken the ice with a small crack that when he found out that she was coming, he’d decided not to volunteer his van for the trip, and Bella had laughed, and everything was okay. In the middle seat were Lee Stephens, the weedy boy who had the misfortune to share a lab bench with D.J. in Biology, and Connor Rawlins, who Bella hadn’t talked to much but did know after a fashion from gym and her history and Trig classes—he liked to sass Mr. Varner in much the same fashion as Mike and Ben. Mike’s car had sort of become the de facto guys’ car but for Angela; Bella had volunteered to take the last seat in the back so she wouldn’t be drowned in all the testosterone.

That left Eric to ride in the “girls’ car,” which he was of course totally fine with. Jessica was following them in her car, with Eric and three other girls that Bella again only sort of knew from class. Lauren Mallory was in her English and History classes and was also on the yearbook staff with Eric—he’d told stories about some of her occasional dramatics over lunch. Samantha Wells was also in English with Bella, and she and Jennifer Ford were both in Spanish and gym with her.

When the plans for previous weekend had fallen through, Mike had undauntedly pressed them forward to the weekend after. With the extra time to get the word out, the group had swollen from the original six at their lunch table to the twelve that were now on their ways. The weather had thankfully cooperated; after all the endless cloud-cover, the pale watery sunlight that Bella woke up to could not have been more welcome.

Charlie had been, Bella thought, inordinately pleased by the fact that she was going out this weekend. “Well, I worry about you, Bells, shut up in this house with just me for company,” he’d told her. “I know you had to up and leave everything you called home down in Arizona, but I still want you to make friends and have fun now that you’re here.”

The whole bunch of them had coordinated to meet up at Mike’s parents’ store that morning around ten-thirty and head out from there. They figured that would give them time to scout the place out and find a good spot to set up in time for lunch. Everyone had chipped in to supply the food for the day. Angela, Ben, and Bella’s job had been dessert; since Angela had been so adamant about s’mores, she and Ben had supplied the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars. Bella had baked some oatmeal-raisin cookies the night before (a triple-batch, so that she and Charlie could selfishly hoard some for themselves).

For a bunch of high school students, they’d gotten moving fairly quickly, piling into the cars and heading out only about fifteen minutes late from their original ETD. Despite being in the back, Ben had commandeered the radio and given Mike a CD from some indie band that he was wild about at the moment, which had provided their soundtrack for the whole drive. Bella was happy enough to sit quietly in her back corner and listen to the music and the talk around her, laughing with the others now and again and dropping in a comment where she could. She didn’t mind being the quiet one, though—she may have been a homebody and wouldn’t have thought to make such a trip on her own, but she was honestly pleased to have been invited.

She still thought it was much too cold to be visiting a beach, even if it was a warm day for the time of year at a little over fifty degrees—but she supposed Mike was right that that was just her Arizona blood talking. Besides, she reflected as they swung around the last curve that led them out of the forest and down towards the shore, First Beach wasn’t exactly like the kind of stereotypical beach that her mind conjured up. Wild, windblown, and rocky, the surf pounding on the stone spires that jutted up from the sea, it looked more like some kind of fantasy landscape than her imaginary sunny seaside getaway. She hadn’t been out here in forever, not since she was little—well, she had been there at Billy’s for dinner the week before last, but they were a little ways inland and not on the actual beach, and it had been dark and rainy to boot. Today she could see everything—and even though she was pretty sure the scenery hadn’t changed much in the years since she’d seen it last, it was still enough to take her breath away.

The road was good all the way down to a beachfront parking lot, and while it wasn’t full, the number of cars in the lot made it clear that there were plenty of people up here who had no problems going to the beach in the middle of winter. Mike whipped into an empty spot and turned off the car with a cheerful, “All right, then!” and then promptly opened his door and swung out. The car was filled with rustling as they all gathered themselves up, zipping coats and such, and then Connor slid the door open. Being in the back, Bella was the last out, and she shivered and burrowed down into her jacket against the wind. She was used to high desert winds, but she’d been spoiled by staying in town up here where it was blocked by the trees and the building; the cold, wet wind off the ocean made her want to scurry for cover.

“Come on, guys, let’s unload!” Mike was swinging open the back of the van as Jessica pulled up and maneuvered into the space next to them, the sound of shrieky giggling and some kind of movie soundtrack clearly audible over the wind and the sound of her engine. Bella slid around the side of the van to grab the bags of sweets, while the boys started jostling around to manhandle the two coolers out. The five passengers in Jessica’s car came spilling out right after she cut the engine, all loud talk and laughter as they went around to get their half of the supplies for the day that was stowed in their trunk.

They were all loaded and ready to go in short order and began the trek down to the beach proper. Bella hung back a little as she carried her cookies and one of the big blankets, not quite sure who she could walk with without looking and feeling like she was intruding on something. It was okay, though, and this way she got to take in the sights of the beach and listen to all the conversations at once—and watch the path for any marauding sticks or rocks that were out to trip her.

Mike seemed to know where he was going. His family store was quite appropriate, and probably no accident; Mike was on the basketball team and ran track and cross-country, and Bella had gathered from talking with him that he ran a lot of trails up in Olympic National Park and down here on the beach. He and his parents also went hiking and camping a lot, so he had all the supplies to start a fire and to cook their food for them.

Their little group wound their way down the beach, bypassing other groups that had the same idea, until they managed to find a relatively flat spot that was more or less sheltered by a massive fallen tree, the knotted, gnarled tangle of upturned roots easily twice as tall as Bella. Mike got to work on starting a fire—he’d brought a sack of firestarters and some dry kindling—while the rest of them began to spread out blankets and gather up the drier bits of driftwood they could find.

Mike clearly knew what he was doing; given the wind and the general wet, Bella wouldn’t have thought he could manage much of a fire, but he had a very respectable blaze going in not too long at all. He kept an eye on it while they started breaking out the food: bread and lunchmeat and hotdogs and buns and several bags of chips, and plenty to go around. Ben and Tyler started up an impromptu fencing match with their hotdog skewers, to the giggling approval of Lauren, Jennifer, and Samantha, while Angela, who was with Bella grabbing napkins, just rolled her eyes.

Everyone settled down after not too long, conversation dying down in favor of food. Bella offered to cook some hotdogs for Mike since he was still busy minding the fire, but he said he’d do it himself, as he thought it could be left to burn on its own pretty soon. He didn’t turn down her offer of a quick sandwich, though.

Bella hadn’t roasted a hotdog over the fire since she was very little. It was always a fun treat for when she visited her Granny Marie, who had a real fireplace, unlike Bella and Renée when she was growing up. She still remembered how, taking a nostalgic pleasure in watching the skin darken and bubble, and she was very pleased to find that she could still grab the wiener off the toasting fork by using a bun without burning her fingers.

The wind blasting off the water aside, Bella had to admit that Mike was right—this was fun.

They were all obviously pretty hungry—Bella herself hadn’t had any breakfast today—and so they put a good-sized dent in the food. They all agreed to save the s’mores for later tonight with dinner—the only good time to enjoy s’mores around a bonfire, Angela said—and so they dipped into Bella’s cookies for dessert, and she was quite pleased by how well they went over. Which was really well in some quarters; Tyler went nuts over them and probably ate about half a dozen at once.

They all sat in a circle around the fire after lunch, talking and laughing, and Bella listened happily, occasionally looking off at the pounding surf on the beach. La Push had always been her favorite place to go when she was little and staying with Charlie in the summers; they’d come out here, spend the day, and sometimes visit the Blacks. But they’d fallen out of the habit as she’d gotten older. Billy’s wife Sarah, Charlie’s cousin and her godmother, had died when she was nine, losing a long battle with breast cancer. Between that and Billy’s diabetes and decreasing mobility, visits in either direction had fallen off pretty dramatically. Bella’s blood got thin from the move to Arizona and coming out here in what was to her such cold got to be a bit of a pain, and she started limiting her sporting activities to just the occasional fishing trip with Charlie. When she was older, Charlie had started scheduling his own vacation time around her visits, and so she’d spent her last couple of summers travelling to various national parks, rather than staying here. But now, sitting out here on the beach for the first time in years, in amongst the town like she never had been, back in touch with Billy and Jacob, and here with Charlie, she wondered why she’d ever stopped coming.

Mike kind of broke things up by announcing that the tide was on its way out, and asking if anybody wanted to go hike around and see what there was to see. She was probably the least athletic of the whole group, but Bella volunteered immediately—she wanted to look around and keep cultivating those fun childhood memories. Angela and Ben were quick to join in, and Connor and Jessica too. The other girls and Eric, who was huddled up in a blanket with them like a big four-headed monster, shivered theatrically and said they’d much rather stay by the fire. Tyler and Lee decided to stay too, although Bella wondered if that decision had to do with presence of the fire or the girls.

Since the tide was still pretty high, they’d trekked up into the surrounding woods first. There were some very nice little trails in there, easy to walk, and Mike was obviously familiar with them. Bella was struck anew by the woods up here—she sometimes forgot that it was a genuine rainforest up here, but once she got back up into the towering, moss-draped trees, it was impossible to miss.

Partway through their walk, Jessica had fallen back from where she’d been laughing with Mike to walk between Angela and Bella. “Hey, guys” she said, “I was talking to Samantha in the car on the way up, and she said that she and Jenn and Lauren had all been up to Port Angeles last week for the movies, and that Phantom of the Opera is still playing in one of the theaters up there!” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my God, Gerard Butler is so gorgeous!” she gushed. “And he sings—Jenn brought the soundtrack and we listened to it on the way up, and I have just got to see it. My family’s going down to Olympia for my grandad’s birthday next weekend, but are you guys doing anything the weekend after that?”

Bella really didn’t have too much interest in seeing Phantom, but she appreciated the invite, and as she didn’t have anything going on that she knew of, she said she’d be happy to go. Angela was game too, so in short order they had a girls’ day out planned for the Saturday after next. Charlie would be pleased, Bella thought amusedly as she picked her way around a fallen log. She was in fact turning into quite the social butterfly.

Bella was starting to puff a bit when Mike finally led them back out of the forest and down to the beach; she appreciated getting back out on the flat ground. Of course, “flat” did not mean “smooth,” and that she was starting to get a little tired also meant that she didn’t pay as much attention as she should have, and she managed to catch her foot on a tussock of eel grass and promptly fell down.

She caught herself on her hands and knees at least, saving herself from the utter humiliation of a faceplant, but her cheeks were still hot as she hove herself up and dusted herself off, her hands and knees stinging from where she’d landed, and her pride smarting equally so. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she’d said with sorry good humor to the rush to find out if she was okay. “I do it all the time—I’m used to it by now.”

She was extra careful for the rest of the way down the beach and absolutely refused to fall into a tide pool and skewer her butt on an urchin again. But since she avoided climbing around on the rocks like she had back then, she could enjoy just looking into the little pools they found. There were plenty of mussels and barnacles, of course, all closed up, but they would occasionally find a brightly-colored starfish tucked up under the rocks, or a small, scuttling prawn, and in one of the larger pools they passed she spotted what she thought was a small sculpin.

She had missed coming to the beach.

She didn’t know how long they’d been out wandering around. Mike was as fresh as a daisy, of course, but most of the others, Bella included, were starting to feel generally cold and sore and tired, and so began to wend their way back to the fire. The others who had stayed behind had not merely kept it going, but had built it up into a blaze, which was most welcome to their little band of explorers. They huddled around it, warming their hands and feet after their long, damp walk, but Bella didn’t get to enjoy it for too long.

She had just warmed up her hands enough that her scrapes from falling were making themselves known again, when she’d been startled by the distant sound of a deep bellow:

“Bella!”

Her head popped up in surprise, and she looked down the beach to see three figures walking in their direction. She craned her head and squinted; they were all indistinguishable in their jeans and jackets and hats…but the tall one in front had a long tangle of black hair that whipped around his shoulders in the sea wind, and Bella felt a smile start on her face.

Cupping her hands together, she leaned out and yelled, “Jacob!” down the beach back to him. She felt like the wind swallowed up her words, but he must have heard her, because he started waving his long arms like a windmill. “I’ll be right back,” she told her curious companions around the fire, and then dragged herself to her feet and hurried down the beach.

She waved as she walked, and Jacob started an easy lope towards her, leaving his companions behind, yelling her name and rather startling her when he reached her by seizing her in an enthusiastic hug that lifted her clean off the ground.

“I was hoping you’d come,” she said around a mouthful of his coat, wheezing a little against the arms tight around her belly

“Well, you did say there’d be food,” he smirked as he set her down and pulled away, and Bella snorted. She looked over his shoulder; his two friends had caught up to them. “Guys, this is Bella—Charlie Swan’s her dad,” he said. “Bella, these are Embry Call and Quil Ateara.”

“Hi,” Bella said, holding her hand out to shake. They both had clearly American Indian features, although Embry less so and with fairer skin, and Jacob was taller than both of them.

“Hey, Bella—we’ve heard a lot about you,” Quil said, laughter in his voice and his words clearly insinuating, although about what Bella didn’t know. She looked inquisitively up at Jacob, only to see him sticking his middle finger out at the both of them, and then she jumped when he draped a heavy arm around her shoulders and started leading her in the direction of the fire, turning their backs on Embry and Quil.

She didn’t have a chance to ask him what on earth he was doing; he leaned down and whispered, “Those two assholes have been making fun of me for my ‘older woman girlfriend’ since I mentioned that you’d invited me out here—just play along.”

Bella snorted, and after hesitating only a moment, swung her arm up around Jacob’s narrow waist in return, making him chuckle. “You’re short,” he informed her, and then just laughed at her scowl.

As silly as she felt, Jacob was very warm, and she was half-sorry to let him go when they reached the campfire. Only half, though—some of the looks she was getting from her fellow hikers made getting out from under Jacob’s arm seem like a very attractive prospect. “Guys—this is my friend Jacob Black; his dad’s my godfather—the chief of the Quileute tribe.”

Jacob struck a very solemn pose and raised his right hand. “How,” he rumbled, and then flashed a grin, and the circle around the fire erupted into snorts and giggles.

Bella jabbed him with her elbow, rolling her eyes, and introduced Embry and Quil and then rattled off the names of all her friends back to the three of them. “I mentioned to Jacob we’d be here this weekend, so he’s come to crash the party.”

With a bit of wiggling, the circle around the fire expanded enough to accommodate the three boys. Lauren, fluttering her eyelashes, asked Jacob where he went to school, and Jacob started puffing up in a rather familiar way as he answered. Eric also batted his eyes when he asked Jacob what year he was in, to Bella’s amusement, although Jacob didn’t seem to pick up on that.

It didn’t take Jacob too long to have the whole group at his feet with his story of how he’d almost been grounded this weekend. Apparently he’d been working on his dad's truck and had gotten so frustrated with a part that was giving him trouble that he’d eventually just lost it, cussing a blue streak and beating the wall to death with his ratchet. Only after he’d finished did he realize that his dad was right there in the doorway watching the whole thing. In the end, though, he’d only had to putty and repaint the side of the garage wall that he’d torn up, and so here he was.

Bella giggled along with everyone else; Jacob did have a way with a yarn, and she could just see Billy calmly watching Jacob having his tantrum and waiting until he was finished to speak. It was also good to see him back to himself after last weekend—Charlie had kept up with things with Billy about what had happened to Emily Uley. From what he’d gathered, the tribe in general was a bit rattled by the attack on her. But Jacob had obviously shaken off any upset from the news and was in fine form—better than fine, really, dialing things up and showing off a little (with a corresponding deterioration in his language), like he had been around Leah Clearwater that night. From the looks on the other girls’ (and Eric’s) faces, they didn’t object to his slightly over-the-top-ness.

“So how long have you two known each other?” Angela asked in the bit of a lull after Jacob’s tale.

“Oh, pretty much since we were born, I think” Bella said, looking over at Jacob with a smile. “Our dads are best friends, my dad and his mom were distant cousins, and my dad is Jacob’s godfather too—I guess he’s my godbrother?” she shrugged. “We hadn’t seen each other for the past few years, but we used to play together a lot when we were kids.”

Jacob looked down at her with a positively evil gleam in his eyes. “I’ll say we did.” He grinned up at the group around campfire. “I’ve totally seen her naked.”

“Jacob Black!” she screeched, blood slamming into her face as she rained ineffectual punches on his arm, her outrage lost in the chorus of hooting laughter that bubbled up around her.

Jacob just laughed unrepentantly and roughly messed up her hair before she could jerk away, leaving it crackling wildly with static and no doubt completing her look of a puffed-up cat. She glared ferociously at him, which had zero effect on his smug face, and she silently vowed to get him for this. “I was seven,” she said loudly. “And he was six. We were playing in the mud and I fell down in it and Charlie made me strip off my muddy clothes so he could hose me down before I went inside.” Her lip twisted, her cheeks still hot. “What, you have to tell that story ‘cause it’s the closest you’ve ever gotten with a girl?” she sneered.

Jacob was like one of those inflatable punching dolls; he’d bounce right back up in your face no matter what you hit him with. “Well, with that as my high point, how could any other girl measure up?” He threw his arm around her shoulders again and gave her a friendly shake; she stayed stiff with her arms crossed and glared at him.

“I am telling your dad on you,” she said petulantly, and everyone laughed.

It was still winter, and the sun was already sinking low out over the ocean; Bella was vaguely concerned by the low cloud cover that had started rolling in, but no one else seemed to be. After their trek all around the beach, all that was really of much interest was dinner. Jacob, Embry and Quil were all duly invited to join, and naturally accepted—that being their primary reason for coming, as Bella reminded them. Mike had packed potatoes wrapped in foil, which he buried down in the coals at the base of the fire, and soon the smell of baking potatoes filled the air along with the sizzle of roasting hotdogs and the sharp tang of mustard.

It was a good thing there was plenty of extra, because Jacob did not scruple to help himself to their provisions with his usual gusto, and his friends weren’t far behind. After dinner, Angela was hopping to get her s’mores, and Mike had brought an outdoor popcorn popper; by the time night had fully fallen, the fire was surrounded by a great deal of crunching, sticky fingers, and rather gooey laughter.

Bella was helping Mike put things away when there was a shout over the fire of, “Hey—who knows any good ghost stories?” At the laughter and a couple of noises of derision, Lee defended himself. “Come on, guys, we’re out her around a fire at night, eating s’mores and hotdogs—it’s what we’re supposed to be doing!” He waved his hand up at Mike. “Gimme that flashlight, Newton—let’s do this!”

“Hang on, hang on—we’re putting the rest of the food away!” Mike grumbled. “Why don’t you get off your butt and come here and help out, and then I’ll give it to you?”

Lee actually did come up and help pack away the remaining bread and buns and meat; Bella’s cookies were long gone, and she suspected what remained of the makings for the s’mores wouldn’t last much longer either—particularly not with the way Quil was shoveling them in. They got everything tucked away in the bags and coolers, and then picked their ways back to the fire, where Lee had settled in a cross-legged pose with the flashlight under his chin in the traditional storyteller’s pose.

He proceeded to adopt a low, mysterious voice as he told the story of his grandmother’s haunted bed, and the ghost of the old man who had visited her one evening to see who was sleeping in it. Not to be outdone, Jennifer had grabbed the flashlight next and told how her uncle had seen the ghost of Princess Angeline, the daughter of Chief Seattle, who supposedly haunted Pike Place Market, which was built over her old cabin where she died.

After this, Connor loudly declared these kinds of “real” stories lame, and affecting a spooky voice, leaned in and told the urban legend about the girl with the dog that licked her hand in the night, which freaked Lauren out in particular. Then Lee, who seemed put out that his thunder had been stolen, took the flashlight back and told a very creepy tale about the Karkers, the monsters that you always just saw out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked they weren’t there, and he told it about a bunch of campers around a dying fire with the Karkers closing in on them…and he ended on a very effective jump scare, which sent most of the girls into shrieks of terror. Bella didn’t yell, but she could admit that she jumped. Lee just seemed satisfied that he’d made Connor jump too.

“God, I’m going to have nightmares tonight,” Samantha complained, shivering under her blanket. “All these monsters—I hate scary stories.”

“Aw, that’s no problem,” Jacob suddenly piped in. “Just stay out here on the rez—no monsters here.” At Samantha’s look, he added ponderously, “As long as the Quileutes live on this land, no monster will harm the tribe.”

Bella looked interestedly at him. “Is this some of the tribal lore, or are you just making it up?”

Jacob gave her a look of mock-effrontery. “Moi? Make up a story like that?” he asked, full of indignation, and then he grinned and said, “Gimme that flashlight. I’m gonna tell all you palefaces some real monster stories.”

“Watch who you’re callin’ pale!” Tyler called across the fire as the flashlight made its way from hand to hand around the circle, which got general laughter.

Jacob chuckled, but just got the light and put it under his chin, taking off his hat so that his long hair hung in curtains around his face. Bella spotted Embry rolling his eyes at Quil on Jacob’s other side.

“Long, long ago,” Jacob started, his voice deep and even, and then smirked before adding, “In a galaxy far, far away,” and Bella wasn’t the only one to snort before he resumed his tale, “before there were people, Q’wati the Transformer arrived in these lands. He saw that they were beautiful and full of plants and food, and he traveled up and down the rivers and the shore, but when he came to the Quileute lands, there were no people, only the monsters that lived in the forest. The only animals brave enough to live so close to the woods were the wolves, and when Q’wati saw them, he took the alphas of the wolf pack and made him into the first Man and Woman—the first Quileute Chief and his wife. And then he transformed the rest of the wolves into humans to be his tribe, and he said, ‘Because you come from wolves, you will be brave and strong.’ And he taught the Quileutes to build houses and make boats, how to fish and to hunt, and drove all the monsters into the forest, so that all the Quileutes were safe.”

Bella listened interestedly; you’d have thought she’d know more Quileute legends, what with Billy being her godfather and Charlie being related to the tribe through his mother’s side, but for some reason she’d just never picked up on these things.

The rest of the circle around the fire was listening intently, and Jacob seemed to be enjoying the attention. He kept going with his story. “But even though the shores and beaches were safe, all the monsters that used to live here were still nearby in the forest, and most terrible of all of them was the Dask’iya.” Jacob twisted his face into a leer as he said, “She was an evil cannibal who lived in a cave full of bones; her eyes were red and her skin was white like a dead body, her hair was like dead grass, and her huge long teeth came down to her chin, and she drooled all the time,” he said, hunching his back and gesturing to his chin. “She would wait on the edge of the forest and watch for children who went too far from their parents—and the instant they saw her, they would freeze with fear, and she would take them back to her cave and blind them by putting tree sap on their eyes, and then cook ‘em alive,” he intoned.

“Then,” he said, sitting up, “one day when she was hunting the Quileute children, she found a group of them playing by the river, but this time, one of the kids didn’t freeze with fear. She was the oldest, and since she was supposed to be watching the other kids, she went along with the Dask’iya when she took them all away. When they got to her cave, the Dask’iya started her fire under her roasting spit, and she was so sure that the blind and frozen children couldn’t do anything to her that she turned her back on them. Then, the girl who wasn’t afraid warmed her hands by the fire so she could get the sap off her eyes, and then crept up behind the Dask’iya, grabbed the spit from the fire and stabbed her through the heart and pushed her into her own fire.” Jacob was smiling now, as he finished, “And then the brave girl who wasn’t afraid led all the children back home to the village.”

He paused, just long enough for everyone around the fire to start looking at each other, when he suddenly jumped back in with an ominous, “But…” When he had all their attention again, he picked up his story. “The Dask’iya wasn’t alone—she had a husband just as horrible and bloodthirsty as she was. And when he came to her cave and found her burned body in the fire, he went crazy and swore that he would destroy all the Quileutes in revenge.” Jacob was really hamming it up now as he went on: “He came out of the forest, all the way down to the shore, and started to kill all the whole tribe, men, women, and children, and he was so strong and so fast that nobody could stop him.

“When he killed the chief, it seemed like they had no hope, until the chief’s son—” Here Jacob had to pause, and quickly shed his jacket. “—who was a tall, handsome, muscular beast—with fantastic hair—” and he struck a bodybuilder’s pose, and there were titters from the opposite side of the campfire, and a rude snort from Embry.

Bella just rolled her eyes. It looked like Jacob had been working out or something; he was starting to fill out a little across the shoulders, and Bella suspected that he’d been just itching for an excuse to flex for the giggling girls across the way. She elbowed him. “Any time you want to get back to the story, there, Conan,” she said dryly.

Jacob smirked and picked the flashlight back up. “Anyway—when he saw his father die,” he started again, “the chief’s son could only pray to Q’wati to save them, to drive the Dask’iya’s husband back into the forest. And Q’wati spoke to him, and told him to remember that the Quileutes came from wolves, and that they were brave and strong.” His voice was rising, and he straightened and said on the crescendo, “And then the chief’s son remembered that he used to be a wolf and so he turned into one, huge and powerful and strong, and he called his warriors and they transformed too, and they jumped on the Dask’iya’s husband and ripped him to shreds and saved their tribe.” Jacob rocked back where he sat, grinning again. “And that’s why no monsters from the forest will ever come onto Quileute lands: Because if they do, the Quileute warriors will remember that they come from wolves again and change their shape and tear them apart.”

He grinned across at Samantha as he lowered the flashlight. “So don’t worry about any of these stories—any Karkers or shit show their ugly faces around here, and me ‘n’ Embry ‘n’ Quil will fuck their shit up.”

The three girls huddling under their blanket giggled appreciatively. Bella just gave him a look and said dryly, “I can’t tell you how much that fills me with confidence.”

Jacob gave her a stern look. “Watch it, woman,” he said warningly, shaking his finger. “Don’t you make fun of the legend—in all the movies, the one who dies first is always the one who made fun the legend.”

“Uh, dude?” said Embry, “you don’t think all that crap you threw in there about the chief’s son counts as you mocking the legend?”

And with a sudden flash of brilliance, Bella had the perfect answer. “Oh, don’t worry about Jacob, Embry,” she said loudly, keeping her face blank. “He’ll be safe: the virgins never die.”

Jacob’s mouth fell open even as a loud laugh rose up all around the fire, and Embry crowed, “Oh, you got burned!” and Bella just smirked smugly back. Take that.

Jacob had a pinched look on his face, but she could tell he was fighting a smile but didn’t have anything else to say—and then she yelled when he grabbed her in a headlock and gave her a furious noogie. She flailed until he let her go and tried in vain to smooth down her hair. “Man, don’t stick me in your nasty old armpit,” she complained, but then she paused. “Aren’t you freezing like that?” she had to ask; Jacob hadn’t put his jacket back on after taking it off for his earlier little bit of posturing.

He glanced down at his crumpled jacket. “Nah,” he said. “I’m hot-blooded.” Nonetheless, he picked it up and put it back on, but when he was done he told her, “I’m tough.” He thumped his chest a little. “Me Tarzan—you wuss.”

Bella rolled her eyes but smiled. Talk seemed to be starting back up around the fire, and no one else volunteered a story, and Quil was making himself another s’more. Figuring she wouldn’t be interrupting anything, she asked in the general direction of the three boys, “So, do you learn all your tribal legends at school?”

“Yeah,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes. “All the legends, and the elders make us take Quileute language classes now too, trying to keep it from dying out. Dude, there are less than four hundred of us—what’s the point?”

“You just say that ‘cause you suck at it,” Quil remarked, and then fired off a long string of incomprehensible syllables. Jacob must not have sucked too bad at the language, though, because he clearly understood whatever Quil had said, and it made him turn and punch him right in the chest while Embry snickered.

Bella smiled but then tried to bring things back around to her original topic. “So is—uh, however you say his name, the Transformer—”

“Q’wati,” Embry supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, him,” Bella agreed. “Is he your central ‘Great Spirit,’ like Spider Woman in the Hopi?”

“Yeah,” answered Jacob. “Made all the people, taught us how to live, all that jazz. ‘Spider Woman’ sounds cooler, though—can she shoot web?”

Bella ignored him and just asked, “Do you guys have the Thunderbird in your stories? I know he’s from up here in the Pacific Northwest.”

Jacob was giving her a half-amused, half-mocking look, and so it was Embry who answered. “Yeah, the Thunderbird and Raven are our other two big characters in the myths. Raven is the trickster,” he clarified at Bella’s questioning look.

“Oh, yeah—like Coyote!” she said. “He’s big with all the tribes down in Arizona—there are always all kinds of souvenirs and stuff all over Phoenix with Coyote on them. I know about tricksters, but what’s the story of the Thunderbird?”

“If I’d have known there was going to be a quiz on it I never would have told that story!” Jacob exclaimed. “Hells Bells, woman, you’re more into this stuff than I am!”

Bella gave him a withering look at the terrible pun on her name. “I like mythology—no fake, Jake,” she added dryly, and Jacob laughed.

“S’not hard to be more into our legends than Jacob,” Embry smirked. “He’s always blowing off that class—some chief’s son you are.”

“My granddad would whip your butt if he heard you screwing around with the old Dask’iya stories like you were,” Quil informed him.

“Can you tell me some good books about your stories?” Bella asked. “I have a lot on all the tribes down south, but not any up here.”

Jacob pulled a very stupid, cross-eyed and slack-jawed look. “Books?” he asked idiotically. “Whut’s books? Them those thangs whut yous use fer readin’?”

Bella shook her head; Embry took pity on her and suggested the book they used in class might be a good one if she wanted to read up on it—and Jacob too, he added, since he flunked his quiz last week, which prompted a wrestling match.

It was getting late; a low fog had been creeping in off the water since the sun had gone down, and now the entire beach was dark and damp, and there were no stars out. Bella spotted some rather sleepy blinking around the fire, and she knew she certainly felt sore and gritty and worn out and could use a hot shower. Ben made the motion to adjourn, and there was a general agreement all around. Mike used the melted ice from the coolers to douse the fire and then buried the remains like a good little Boy Scout; he received an obnoxiously ponderous commendation from the Quileute boys before they started their long walk down the beach toward home. Blankets were duly folded up and stowed away, trash cleared out, and before long they all hoisted up their gear and started to straggle back towards their cars.

It was twelve damp and tired travelers who piled into their cars to go back to Forks, but all in all, Bella felt that today had been a very good day.

Chapter Text

In a tidy bit of coincidence, Embry’s suggestions about books on Quileute lore became a lot more relevant the following week.

That Monday morning in history, Mr. Jefferson announced amidst a great many moans and groans that it was time for everyone to start picking topics for their term papers. Turned out his favored style was a sort of “living history” assignment—they were to choose their topic such that they could interview someone as an actual primary source of information on significant parts of history such as the Great Depression or World War II. His suggestions were grandparents (which Bella didn’t have any left), visiting nursing homes to interview elderly people about their experiences (the idea of which made Bella recoil in uncomfortable-with-strangers horror), or maybe even going down a local branch of various service organizations, like the Moose Lodge or the Kiwanis Club (which had about as much appeal as the previous suggestion).

However, as she had a mad mental scramble to think of who on earth she could interview, she had the brilliant notion to ask if Billy Black would work. He was, after all, the current Chief of the Quileute Tribe, and would probably know all about the relations and policies of the government dealing with the tribe and how the reservation system was set up. If Mr. Jefferson would give her the okay on using him, then she could do her whole report on the history of the Quileute tribe since first contact with white settlers or, barring that, just do a broader report on Indian policy as a whole.

After class let out, she went up to his podium on her way out and broached the idea. She was very pleased when it turned out Mr. Jefferson was quite enthusiastic about the topic—she could cover Quileute culture as well as their dealings with the Federal government, and he loved the idea of her interviewing the chief and bringing that information into class.

Feeling like she’d averted a crisis (she was self-aware enough to acknowledge it was only a crisis inasmuch as she’d been over-dramatizing it), she skittered out through the foggy morning towards the math building. She was already plotting on what research she could do; after the bonfire last weekend, she’d idly poked around online looking for the books Embry had mentioned. There weren’t really any touristy-type places in town that sold them, but most of them were available at the gift shop on the reservation or in book stores up in Port Angeles. She’d kind of written them off at the time, but now they were for school, so she knew she’d be buying one or two for sure now.

The paper wasn’t due until the next nine weeks, though, so Bella knew her initial burst of eagerness to get cracking would quickly fade. First things first, she’d have to ask Billy about it; March Madness would be starting up soon and she and Charlie should be getting back on track with the Blacks for sports nite, and she could ask him then.

The new assignment she got that afternoon, however, wasn’t quite as pleasant. She walked into Biology to find that Mr. Banner had his usual slides on the overhead to start the class off, only it wasn’t the genes and Punnett squares they’d tested over last week, but neither were they the proteins and enzymes that were the next section in the book. No, he had up pictures of the circulatory system and blood cells—that section was way ahead in the book from where they’d been the week before.

A little puzzled, she made her way back to her bench; she’d gotten so used to Edward staring out the window and not reacting to her presence until a few minutes after she sat down that she barely even noticed it anymore. She just went about her business until he straightened up and turned around and said hello, as always like everything was perfectly normal. Then she was free to say hi and ask, “What’s up with all the veins?” pointing towards the front of the room.

Edward’s face was somewhat strained as he said, “I think we’re jumping ahead in the book a little.”

She didn’t get a chance to ask anything beyond that; Edward had spent enough time spaced out at the window today that Mr. Banner called things to order (as orderly as this class could get, anyway) before she could continue the conversation.

“Okay, guys!” he said. Bella was at a loss how a high school teacher could always be so brimming with enthusiasm—especially for a non-honors class. “If any of you have been paying attention to the bulletin boards or the school newsletter, you’ve seen that next Friday StuCo is putting on their annual blood drive. So, we’re gonna be skipping ahead in your books to study blood and the circulatory system to get ready for it, and we’re even going to be doing a lab where you all can find your own blood types.”

Bella cringed at his words. Studying blood was all well and good—but actually having to see it? And to stick herself with a needle to do so?

Crap.

A quick glance over at Edward in an attempt to make her displeasure known revealed that he was already back into his stiffly-staring-out-the-window mode, so she was left to sourly open up her book and start taking notes on her own. The theory wasn’t bad, and she didn’t mind looking at pictures and stuff on the handouts…but she really didn’t like actual blood. And she didn’t like needles any better.

Edward was particularly unresponsive today, actually getting rebuked by Mr. Banner for not paying attention. It was so extreme that Bella was actually somewhat surprised to find that he had been paying attention after all; Mr. Banner’s sarcastic admonishment to pay attention involved asking him to answer a question, which he fielded easily, barely even moving from his position to do so.

That didn’t stop Mr. Banner from annoyedly telling him to quit staring out the window and actually participate in class, which he did very stiffly, staring straight ahead. Bella privately shook her head at him; his very bizarre behavior on her first day really was a dim memory by this point, and now all that was left was his much more run-of-the-mill strangeness, which was now just amusing. Doubly so in that Mr. Banner seemed to be trying to catch him all through today’s class with questions, but never could.

He stopped lecture a bit early to pass out permission forms for the blood-typing lab, which Bella had been able to mostly put out of her mind until then and did not appreciate the reminder. “Now, you have to bring these back signed by your parent or guardian to be able to participate in a lab that involves blood—and you have to sign it too, to acknowledge that you’ll follow proper hygienic procedures. Which, by the way, if you don’t,” Mr. Banner added, giving D.J. a pointed look, “then you’ll get a zero for the lab, and I don’t need to tell you what that can do for your grade. And anybody who forgets—or who is trying to get out of doing the lab at all by not having it signed—well, then you’ll get to spend the day answering all sixty review questions at the end of the chapter.”

Bella sighed, taking the last two forms that were handed to her and passing one to Edward while she scanned over her own. Or rather, she tried to hand it to him—after a few seconds of holding her arm out, she looked up from her form to find him starting intently out the window again and not looking at her. Unable to help from smiling a little, she set the form down next to him and then dutifully signed her own where she was supposed to. Although as she did, she couldn’t help but think that even the sixty review questions sounded better than having to stab herself.

She finally heard a tight sigh from next to her and saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked over to find Edward stiffly turning and gathering up his permission form. From the look on his face, he felt about the same way about the lab as she did.

“Well, I’m not looking forward to this,” she tossed out.

He jumped, like he tended to do when she spoke to him, and then flicked his eyes briefly up to hers. “Nor am I,” he said tightly.

“Maybe I can get out of it because I already know my blood type,” she suggested jokingly, trying to lighten his mood. “I’ve been in the hospital enough times that I had better.”

“Oh?” he said stiffly, folding his form into a tiny square.

“Yeah. I mean, there was the time after my accident in the parking lot, and before that, well, I’m so accident-prone I’ve had to go get sewn up before. And that wasn’t my first car-related accident, either” she added, aware that she was talking too much, but Edward’s particularly stubborn silence today was starting to unnerve her, reminding her too much of their first few encounters and making her feel like she felt like she had to fill up the conversational void herself. “Got in an ugly one a few years ago—had surgery then, and had to get a transfusion, so I had better know my blood type.”

He looked up at her then, which felt like a moderate success in the face of his regression today. “Oh—what happened?” he asked.

“Got T-boned by a drunk driver,” she told him. “Broke my arm all along here,” and she pushed up her sleeve to reveal the long scar on the underside of her forearm, and then extended her arm out towards him, “—they had to put a metal rod in—”

Bella nearly leapt out of her seat; Edward took one look at her outstretched arm, let out a strangled noise, and whirled in his seat so fast that one minute he was facing her and the next he was crunched up in a tight little ball staring out the window.

Bella blinked, and then hastily withdrew her arm. She’d met people who got freaked out by her scars and things, but never quite that bad. “Edward?” she asked tentatively.

“I don’t like—blood!” Edward squeaked.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” she said earnestly to his back; he didn’t move, and she uncomfortably scooted back in her seat and turned back to pack up her things. Well—that explained his uneasiness in class today. She felt a bit guilty about it, but in spite of herself she felt the corner of her mouth trying to turn up. Looked like Edward was squeamish—and even worse than her; his apparent lack of attention had been him trying to play tough all day…and she’d gone and freaked him out.

And to think, she’d been scared of him her first day.

Edward finally uncurled, sitting up, his back overly stiff, and he went back to staring straight ahead, not looking at her. Bella’s amusement had faded quickly, leaving her feeling rather embarrassed, and that she ought to do something to cover her faux pas. Casting around for a neutral topic she could discuss with him, her mind drifted back to her weekend at the beach. She recalled his reason for skipping out, and so forced her voice into cheerful pleasantness and asked, “Ah—so—did you go out to the forest this weekend?”

Edward’s head snapped around. “What?” he demanded.

Taken aback, Bella managed to say, “Um…you said you go camping on the weekends?”

He blinked at her, and then relaxed in his seat, his pinched face smoothing out for the first time all day and into a sheepish expression. “Oh…uh, yeah, I did. We do—uh, did, that is. Went camping. This weekend.”

When she saw that he didn't seem to be mad at her or anything, she prompted, “And? Did you have fun?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at his fingers.

Conversation with Edward really could be like pulling teeth. But she owed it to him to be patient and friendly. “Did you—did you go to Olympic National?” she asked, trying again. “Or somewhere new?”

“Olympic National,” he said. He seemed uncomfortable again, and after flicking his eyes up to her for a moment, he asked, “Did, um, did you have fun this weekend? Going to the beach?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bella answered. “I hadn’t been out there in ages, not since I was little.”

Edward seemed to relax marginally. “What did you do?”

“Oh, just hiked around, had a picnic for lunch, and had a bonfire and a weenie roast at dinner. Told some ghost stories—you know, Campfire Girls kind of stuff,” she said. She smiled a little to herself. “I never did the fire-thing growing up, but my dad would take me around the beach in the summer, and sometimes Billy and Jacob would come with us—they’re friends of ours out on the reservation,” she added.

Edward looked vaguely surprised by the last, and started picking at another fraying thread on his backpack. “Billy—is that Billy Black? The Quileute chief?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bella answered. “He and my dad are best buds; Billy’s my godfather and Dad is Jacob’s—it’s been good to see them again since I’ve moved up here. Jacob crashed our bonfire,” she said with a chuckle. “He was having way too much fun telling all the white folk all the Indian legends.”

Edward’s head came up again at that. “Oh?” he asked. “Like what?”

Slightly encouraged by his more open demeanor, Bella elaborated. “Oh, I think he was kinda making some stuff up, trying to turn it into a scary monster story or something. And I’m pretty sure he was flirting with the girls in the group,” she added dryly. Jacob had definitely seemed to puff up in the face of the appreciative giggling of the girls around the fire in the face of his antics. “Actually,” she said, half-musing, “I’d really like to learn more about all the Quileute legends—I’ve got a little Quileute blood in me through my Dad’s side, and with Billy as my godfather, you’d think I’d know more about it than I do.” She smiled. “But Mr. Jefferson said that I can do Quileute culture and Indian policy for my term paper, and I’m going to have Billy be my interviewee—I’m actually kind of looking forward to it. What about you?” she asked, looking at Edward’s rather tight face. “You have any ideas yet about your history paper?”

“No,” he said shortly, and he didn’t say anything else, just lapsing back into his studied silence from earlier.

Bella felt her brow furrowing, but then the bell went off and it was time to go, so she had no more time to try and puzzle out if she’d offended him or something. Edward was just strange sometimes, she eventually decided, so she shrugged internally and swung her bag up on her shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Edward,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

She wasn’t expecting the smile she got in return, even if it was small and tight around the edges. “Yeah—see you later, Bella,” he said, and she smiled back and headed out of the room and off to gym.

Bella wrinkled her nose as she picked the bit of pond scum off her lure, careful not to stab herself with the hook; that would be just her speed.

Satisfied that it was clean—not that the fish would mind, she suspected, but she was anal retentive enough that it bothered her—she let it go, watching it swing out over the side of the boat as she carefully wound her reel so that it was just dangling by the tip, ready to cast.

She hadn’t been fishing in years, but she guessed it was a bit like riding a bike: you never quite forgot.

Friday night at dinner, Charlie had been asking her about her day as usual, and if she had any plans for the weekend. She’d been right, that he’d been happy to see her getting out some, and had been very pleased that she’d gone to La Push with the kids from school. He’d seemed almost disappointed, however, when she said that she was just planning on loafing around the house as usual this weekend.

“It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “I don’t have to do something every weekend.”

“I know, Bells, but I do worry about you, uprooting your whole life and having to come to a new place and everything.” He pushed a few remnants of his salad around his plate (since it was Lent, they’d modified their usual Friday night salad nites, usually having it alongside a serving of one of Charlie’s catches). “I know I’m not nearly as…exciting as your mother, and I know she’d always do things—” he started, sounding uncomfortable and apologetic.

“Dad—I’m not very exciting either,” she’d interrupted dryly. And she wasn’t—she was a homebody and a half, just like he was; it was kinda silly that he of all people would be worried about her staying home. “I’m not the big girl-about-town like Mom; I don’t mind staying home. I have homework and things to do around the house. And anyway,” she added to appease him, “Jessica and Angela invited me to go with them to PA next weekend for a movie and a girl’s day out—if that’s okay with you—so I’ll be getting out and doing something then.”

Charlie had looked slightly mollified and given his permission, but had been quiet for a little while after that, fidgeting a little, before he tentatively asked, “Well…if you’re not doing anything, would you—would you want to come fishing with me on Sunday?”

At her look of surprise, he hastily added, “I mean, you used to have fun when we’d go out when you were little—it’s okay if you’re not interested anymore, I just thought you might like to—to get out some, and you wouldn’t have to be here by yourself all day, and—well, I just wondered if you might like to.”

Bella hadn’t felt any burning urge to go fishing—she hadn’t in years—but she wasn’t averse to the idea. The weather was gradually warming up, the dry days slowly beginning to outnumber the wet ones, so she figured it’d be a nice thing for them to do. Charlie had looked terribly happy when she agreed; she guessed he really did want her to come along. “Just so long as it’s not raining,” she amended, and Charlie smirked at her but agreed. Charlie was a pretty hardcore fisherman, and he considered the rain an advantage in catching. Bella most emphatically did not, and wouldn’t get near a boat if it was.

Luckily for all involved, it wasn’t; the sky was mostly cloudy, which was good for fishing, but there were still a few bright patches where Bella could soak up some sun. It was also a pretty warm day. A bit colder than Bella would have liked, but not freezing, and up in the woods on the water, the wind would be blocked, so it wouldn’t be bad at all.

Charlie’s usual fishing coterie consisted of Harry Clearwater, Waylon Forge, and himself. Harry, Charlie told her as they drove out of town on Sunday morning and into Olympic National, to the marina on the Bogachiel River where Charlie kept his boat, wouldn’t be joining them. He hadn’t been feeling too well lately, and Sue was making him go to the doctor today to run the usual battery of tests for things that tended to ail middle-aged men. Bella vaguely wondered if Charlie was keeping up with his own health, since he didn’t have a wife to make him, but, given that she inherited her aversion to doctor’s appointments from him, she doubted it.

Waylon, however, was coming along today. They met up with him at the marina. Bella had only seen him once since she arrived, when he came over and crashed one of their Thursday dinners out, but she well remembered him from the time spent in Forks. It was impossible not to, really. He was still loud, still convinced that he was funnier than he was, still smoked his big, black, smelly cigars, still lit them with his hideously tacky Zippo shaped like a Fort Knox gold bar, still called Bella “Shrimp,” and still tried to fool her into looking up at something so he could flick her in the throat, like he had since she was little (and it hadn’t been any funnier back then, either). But he meant well, and despite their very dissimilar personalities, he and Charlie had grown up together and had been fishing together for years, and were very good friends. So Bella played along, giving Waylon the hug he wanted, letting herself be flicked in the throat and pretending to be surprised by it, and enduring all his embarrassing stories on her from when she was little, the same ones that he trotted out every time he saw her.

She spotted Charlie giving her an amused but sympathetic look over Waylon’s shoulder at one point, but he didn’t intervene, just got their gear together and loaded everything up in the boat.

Waylon, Harry, and Charlie were all very serious about their fishing. No surprise, what with the trout and the salmon up here; all three of them were expert fly fishermen. Also no surprise, fly fishing was something that butterfingered Bella had never mastered. Thankfully, Charlie suggested they try something a little less challenging since she was with them. “The walleye are moving around this time of year,” he said, helping Bella very gingerly down into the old green boat; she held on for dear life lest she slip and fall in. “It might be a little early, but we could get lucky and find some bass, too.”

“Yeah,” Waylon hooted, jumping in the boat and rocking it dangerously; Bella sat down hard and gripped her seat. “We don’t want the Shrimp here trying for trout and hooking her own butt and getting all tied up in her line again—you remember when you did that?” he asked her, grinning around the cigar clamped in his teeth.

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling wanly. It had only happened once (granted, that was probably because after that she had declared that fly-fishing was not for her and hadn’t tried it again), but she’d tried to cast and had managed to sling her hook around and snagged the seat of her own pants—something so ridiculous that only she could have managed it. And, naturally, in the course of trying to unhook herself, she just managed to get thoroughly tangled in her own line and Charlie had had to cut her out of it while Waylon laughed in the background.

Once everybody was settled, Charlie had started up the motor and sent the boat puttering out onto the river. He’d been at it long enough that he knew all the best spots for everything, particularly those off the beaten path so he didn’t have to share with other less serious fishermen, and he sent them up the river a ways to a still spot that looked good.

He still had all of Bella’s old fishing gear (right down to the tiny, rainbow-colored life jacket that she’d worn when she was little). Her old rod was, maybe, a bit on the short-side now, but it was okay. Charlie had not been about to give his daughter some kind of little toy rod, but rather got her started on the real thing, so while it was shorter than his own, Bella’s rod was still useable. He’d offered her the use of one of his full-sized rods, but she’d been happy enough to start with her own; it was familiar, and hopefully she’d have less of a chance of making a mess of things.

She started out with her old friend the weighted spinner bait; jigs were easy to get caught on stuff below the water, and she didn’t quite trust her skill with those right off the bat; best start with something a little easier. She knew Charlie favored minnows when he wasn’t fly fishing, but Bella hated hooking the live fish like that, and she appreciated that he’d skipped that part this time.

“Still squeamish, there, Shrimp?” Waylon asked, amused, as she threaded the bit of sparkly rubber worm onto her hook.

“Yeah, I am,” she’d agreed easily, letting her lure drop and swing out. “I’ll just stick with my rubber bait; I never have any trouble with it.”

He chuckled. “Well, we’ll give you a pass on that one; s’enough that you’re not too frilly and girly to get out here on the river with us old men.”

“I try,” Bella said with a smile, and then went back to her rod and tried to cast off.

Her first attempt was not much of a success, but it only took her a time or two to remember how to move her arm and flip the end; before long, she was making successful casts at least twice as often as she had to redo them. Casting was her only trouble; she easily remembered how to slowly reel the line back in, giving it a chance to sink a little, and reeling in bursts and flicking the end occasionally, to make the bait seem like a little fish to lure the big ones in for a bite.

They’d started a bit later than Charlie usually did, generously making a concession to Bella’s lack of enthusiasm for the AM hours. They spent the morning just drifting down the river. Charlie got the first catch of the day, a walleye, but he tossed it back. He really only kept the big ones, preferring the sport of catching them over anything else. Waylon hooked himself a big trout not long after that, the first keeper of the day, too. “That’s my dinner,” he said, holding the wiggling fish up to her with a laugh, and she grinned at him. He and Charlie both caught a couple more after that, but no keepers, and then finally, Bella managed a catch, a small but respectable walleye that she proudly held aloft by its lip (after Charlie got it off the hook for her) before tossing it back.

They were both very patient with her; she kept getting her hook tangled up on the undergrowth, especially those first few casts, but Charlie always gamely started the motor and sent the boat over to help get her loose. Her catch record was pretty dismal next to Charlie and Waylon’s, only three fish for the whole morning, but she did manage to catch the first bass of the day, which fought her like mad only to turn out to be a tiny little thing barely over six inches long, and she happily let him go.

Around noon, Charlie said that maybe they should move to a new spot (Bella felt vaguely guilty, since it was her getting snagged that kept making them have to start the motor, which would scare the fish away), and they went further upstream, finding a nice wide place where the current was slow around a deadfall. Charlie always said those sorts of places were great, good spots where the fish would hide, and they dropped anchor in the middle. The stopped for lunch first, sitting still and letting the fish come out before they started again. Bella had packed sandwiches, and of course there were chips and Twinkies for afterwards. Waylon’s cooler was full of beer, and he laughingly teased Charlie about his delinquent daughter when she popped the top of one for herself.

“Sometimes, when Charlie’s not at home, I run with the scissors,” she informed him, deadpan, and he guffawed and slapped her on the back, making her slosh her beer a little, and then offered her one of his cigars. She turned it down, and then patiently waited for the story that she knew was coming, and Waylon did not disappoint.

“You remember when I gave you a puff when you were little?” he asked, biting off the end of the cigar he’d offered her and spitting it into the water before flicking open his gold lighter and touching the flame to the end.

“Yeah,” Bella said. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’ve wised up since then,” she added, vaguely hoping to head off the story, but not really expecting to.

And she didn’t. “You remember that, Charlie?” he asked, the cigar tight in his mouth as he tied on a jig. “She’d been watchin’ me all day, and so I offered her a puff, and you could tell she wanted to so bad.”

Charlie chuckled. “Yeah—she thought she was getting away with something,” he said, looking fondly up at Bella from his tacklebox.

Bella smiled self-deprecatingly as Waylon went on. “Yeah—but of course she had to check with you before she misbehaved,” he said, snickering. “And you said she could.”

Charlie shrugged. “Well, I figured she’d be more likely to start smoking later if she thought it was forbidden or something. And I didn’t think she’d like it very much when she was only ten—guessed that be a bigger deterrent than anything I could tell her.”

“And you were right,” Bella said dryly, tucking her beer can between her legs like Charlie always did as she picked up her rod.

“I’ll say!” Waylon hooted. “You sucked on that thing like it was goin’ outta style—pretty much swallowed all that smoke—and then you turned the prettiest shade of green I’d ever seen!”

Bella shook her head, smiling. “That was horrible, Waylon—I thought I was gonna die.”

“Well, you were sure hackin’ and chokin’ like you were gonna,” he agreed.

“No offense, but that pretty well put me off smoking for life,” she told him.

Waylon grinned at her around his cigar. “None taken, Shrimp—it takes a real man to look good with a cigar anyway.”

Bella shook her head and went back to her fishing.

She didn’t have much luck in the afternoon. Charlie and Waylon kept pulling in plenty, mostly walleye but with the occasional trout, and Charlie hooked a sturgeon just after lunch. Bella thought she got a couple of hits, but they got away, before she finally managed to hook a small sunfish. Charlie remarked that it was a bit early for sunfish, but Bella couldn’t enjoy her catch, because it managed to swallow the hook, and Charlie had to set to work on it with a pair of pliers to get it out. Bella couldn’t watch; she hated it when that happened, just as she hated the way the fish just laid there on the water surface when Charlie finally got the hook out and threw it over the side. It was just exhausted and stunned, and it eventually woke up and swam off, but Bella always felt awful when that happened.

She only caught pond scum for her next two tries, and after cleaning her hook, cast it out towards the deadfall. And, of course, she promptly got snagged. Growling under her breath, she yanked it a few times, twisting the rod and trying to get it loose, but gave up.

“Dad, I’m stuck again,” she said, embarrassed.

“Okay,” he said simply; he and Waylon finished reeling in, and then Charlie put down his rod and started up the motor again.

“I’m sorry,” she said for the umpteenth time that day.

“Aww, don’t worry, Shrimp,” Waylon said, reaching over to tweak her nose. “We’ll keep you around anyhow.” He grinned. “Maybe we'll use your toes for bait, so you can earn your keep,” he added, like he always said he’d do to her when she was little, and she just smiled and shook her head.

Charlie maneuvered in close to the deadfall, swinging the boat around and to the side. Bella had been reeling in as they went, keeping her line mostly taut. As they neared where she could see her line disappearing under the water, she carefully got out of her seat and sat down on the floor of the boat; she didn’t trust herself in the slightest to be leaning over the side while up in her seat.

Charlie cut the motor and then picked up an oar to get in close to the deadfall. Bella set her rod down, gripping the line and the edge of the boat, and leaned out over the side.

A dead, glassy eye was staring back at her.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked, flying backwards in the boat, her heart leaping up into her throat.

There were startled exclamations from the ends of the boat. “Bella!” Charlie whirled in his seat. “What is it?”

Bella was clutching her chest, willing her heart to slow down. “I—there’s—” She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, swallowing. “I’m sorry, there’s just—there’s something dead in the water down there.”

“What?” Charlie stood, his brows furrowed, and stepped over to stand next to her. He squinted down into the water, and then relaxed. “Oh—it’s a deer.”

Bella shakily pushed herself back to the edge and peeked over.

The first thing she saw was that murky eye, and she shivered a little. But now that she was looking, she could see the head and the fur, all covered in greenish algae, with bits of it drifting in the current. She licked her lips, and then handed her reel to Charlie. “Uh—can you get it?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure, baby,” he said gently. “You just sit tight.”

“There’s another over here,” she heard Waylon call suddenly, and she looked over to see him peering down into the water. “And—Christ, an elk too, I think.” He grabbed one of the oars and jabbed the end down into the water.

“Come on, Waylon, don’t poke it,” Charlie said, exasperated. He yanked again on Bella’s line, and she felt vaguely ill as she watched the dead deer move, its limp head swaying drunkenly in the water, exposing the tattered, grayish meat of its torn neck. “I…think I’d better just cut this one,” Charlie said after a moment.

“Yeah,” Bella agreed, still unable to tear her eyes away from mossy carcass under the water as it stared back at her from its milky eye.

Charlie snipped the line and handed her back her rod, and then leaned back over the side. “Jesus, Waylon, you weren’t kidding,” he said, squinting all along the deadfall. “There’s—I can see three deer right here.”

“Yeah—there’s two more and another elk over here. All pretty fresh.” Waylon prodded beneath the water again, and she had a brief glimpse of something slimy surfacing, and then there was a musty, rotten smell, and she turned away.

“Huh.” Charlie stood and scratched his head. “I guess the current must have just dragged them along here like it does all the rest of the debris.” He moved over and sat down.

“Weird that they’re all here at once, though,” Waylon commented, sitting back down and setting the oar on the floor next to him. Bella spotted something green clinging to the end, and she looked off, not particularly wanting to contemplate where it came from.

Charlie looked at her for a minute, and then used his oar to push away before he started the motor, moving the boat away from the deadfall and back out into the open water. “Not really,” he said. “It’s the same current that brings all the branches and stuff right here—no surprise it’d bring dead animals all here too. They were probably killed in different places along the river and just all happened to end up in the same spot.” He cut the motor. “You okay, Bells?” he asked seriously.

“Yeah,” she answered, carefully standing up and getting back into her seat. “Just startled me, is all.”

“Well, lemme restring your line for you,” he offered, and Bella handed him her forgotten rod.

“Helluva catch, there, Shrimp,” Waylon remarked, and she managed a wan smile back at him.

In short order, Charlie had her rod refitted with a new lure, but Bella had been so rattled by the sight of that dead white eye looking up at her from the water that the day had turned a little sour for her. She tried not to let on and kept fishing, casting in a desultory manner, but she didn’t catch anything else that day.

Bella really wasn’t having a very good day. She’d been awakened as usual by Charlie starting the shower, but unlike most mornings, she’d not been able to go right back to sleep. She’d ended up lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling as she fruitlessly tried to will herself into catching a little more time asleep—and only just managed to start drifting off right when her alarm went off. So she felt just as tired as if she’d just awakened, but hadn’t actually gotten any extra sleep.

She’d had a headache from it, too, feeling sore and cranky and not wanting to do anything, but forced herself to drag herself out of bed and get dressed. It was raining this morning—of course—and heavily too, not the typical misty Washington drizzle that she was pretty well used to. No, this was a full-on downpour, and she had to be out in it.

She discovered a nice big zit coming up on her chin in the bathroom, and then stubbed her toe on her desk chair, too, when she was back in her room shuffling around getting dressed. She dropped her cereal bowl when she was trying to get it out of the cabinet—years of experience meant that she used a plastic one, so nothing broke—and then when she picked it up and tried to set it on the countertop, she put it down too close to the edge and it just fell off again.

She sat at the table for a little while, delaying having to go out in the rain, and ended up dozing a little to the point that when she snapped awake, she realized that she was running late. Snarling to herself, she threw on her coat, got her umbrella, and charged out into the rain.

She wasn’t horribly late when she got to school, but she was not there at her usual time, so of course that meant her preferred parking spot was taken. She had to park way off from the main building, which meant a long walk in the pouring rain—which also meant she wound up stepping in a deep puddle and got water in her shoe.

She had to fight to keep from nodding off in English and history, feeling stiff and uncomfortable and generally crappy for no reason that she could figure. Well, at least until she realized that her discomfort was getting worse—and that it was coming from the general direction of her middle. Dreading what she’d find, she took a quick detour to the bathroom before Spanish. Oh, well—at least it turned out there was a reason for her feeling so rotten today: her period had finally started. But since she was so irregular and wasn’t expecting it, she wasn’t carrying any Tylenol. Wasn’t that just typical. She might have known, though—right before she started, her already over-the-top clumsiness always seemed to ratchet up to epic proportions—like when she tripped right in the front of the Spanish classroom in front of God and everybody and barely managed to keep herself from braining herself on the corner of Mrs. Goff’s podium.

Her temper was frayed to just about nothing by lunchtime; she would probably feel better if she could eat some protein, but of course it was Friday and that meant no meat. Barring that, chocolate could at least be counted on to improve her outlook when she had cramps, but no, she’d given that up for Lent.

Oh, and we mustn’t forget—today was the blood-typing lab! Bella was going to have to stick herself with a needle this afternoon, and be in a room with a bunch of bleeding students!

This day sucked.

She skipped out on lunch; she wasn’t really hungry, and even if she was, nothing appealed. She was tired and sore and just feeling all around crappy. What she really wanted to do was just go sit out in her car and be alone for forty-five minutes, but it was still raining. Sighing, she figured she’d just go to the school library and sit in the quiet. She told Angela not to look for her at lunch, that she felt kinda bad (and, thank heavens, Angela had been carrying Tylenol and offered her some, which Bella took gratefully). She didn’t have much of an appetite, but given how badly she felt, she thought that not eating anything wouldn’t be the best idea either. She’d detoured by the vending machines outside of the cafeteria and got herself a package of peanut butter crackers and a bag of Skittles.

She munched on the crackers as she trudged through the halls to her locker. She just wanted this Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to be over. She didn’t want to have to go to gym and run around and try to play volleyball with cramps. And she really didn’t want to have to stick herself with a needle in Biology—she was already bleeding enough as it was. She already knew her blood type, anyway: AB-negative, the rarest type of all. Which, she reflected wryly as she put away her Spanish folder and got out her biology book, really wasn’t all that big a deal. For all they played it up in movies and TV as being such a hard match, she knew that she could in fact accept any of the other three negative blood types—just as many possible donors as good old A- or B-positive. No, all it meant for her was that she was in high demand for blood drives.

Well, forget that, she snorted to herself, slamming her locker shut for no reason other than that it felt good to do it. She didn’t care if the blood drive was going on—nobody was getting any of her blood.

“Bella?”

She turned, hefting her bag up on her shoulder and gripping her bag of Skittles as she looked around at the sound of her name—and she saw Edward approaching her from down the hall. She gave him a tired smile. “Hi, Edward.”

He took two more steps toward her—and then promptly froze in his tracks, his eyes going wide and—and was he blushing? She looked at him with furrowed brows as he stood there, his mouth open, and then he started fidgeting with the piece of paper in his hand. “Uh. Yeah. Um, hi. Yes. How are you?”

She tried not to laugh; she guessed this new bit of awkward dancing was what he did when he couldn’t stare out the window when he first saw her. “Lousy,” she answered honestly. “This has been a rotten day.”

For whatever reason, he seemed to get even more uncomfortable, tugging restlessly at the hem of his sweatshirt; he started moving towards her again, but with an uneven, halting step. “Oh. I’m—I’m sorry.”

She shrugged and was about to ask him if he needed anything, when her attention was grabbed by a yellow blur out of the corner of her eye and a bright trill of, “Hello, Bella!”

She turned to find that Alice had appeared next to her, her mouth stretched wide in that creepy smile of hers, beaming up at Bella like she couldn’t be more thrilled to see her. She was wearing an old-school, bright yellow rain slicker, complete with matching southwestern rain hat, and was all but swallowed up by it, only her pale face and her bright red galoshes visible. She was carrying an enormous green and white umbrella, the big kind for golf courses and such, and it was almost as tall as she was. She was also standing uncomfortably close, and Bella cleared her throat and smiled as she took a small step back to lean against her locker. “Hi, Alice. How are you?” she asked politely.

“I am very well, thank you!”

Edward gave a small cough, and Bella turned to him, trying not to notice Alice’s intent gaze, despite the fact that she could feel her weird eyes still fixed on her, even as Edward tugged on his hair and seemed to be having trouble looking at her at all. “What’s up?” she asked.

“Um. Yes. Uh, I was wondering, if, um—I’m not going to be in class today. Biology, I mean,” he finally said in a rush.

Bella blinked at him. “Oh—you mean not going to be there for the lab?”

He coughed again. “Yes. I mean, no, I won’t be there. Alice has an appointment in Olympia this afternoon, and I have to drive her.”

“I have an appointment with my specialist!” Alice announced.

“Oh—okay—nothing wrong, I hope?” Bella managed to ask, trying to open her Skittles just for something to do with her hands.

“No!” Alice answered cheerfully, but didn’t say anything else.

“Anyway.” Bella turned back towards Edward’s voice. “I’m sorry to be leaving you on your own, but I was wondering if you could, um, turn in my prelab, and let me know if there are any assignments or notes or anything?”

“Oh, okay, sure, no problem,” she said, taking the proffered worksheet from his hand and tucking it under her arm. She rather selfishly wondered if his being gone meant that she would have a better or worse time of the lab today; she glumly decided that it would be worse, just because it was that kind of day, and because the bag of candy in her hands was being particularly stubborn, she gave it a good yank.

And promptly tore it in half, sending a hail of rainbow candies skittering all over the floor at her feet.

Only years of conditioning at the hands of her Granny Marie kept her from just yelling “Shit!” down the hallway. No, instead she just closed her eyes, her head lowered, and took a deep breath through her nose before looking up—and she just stared.

Edward and Alice had both gone rigid, their entire bodies tense and quivering, their eyes so huge that Bella could see the whites as they darted wildly all around, as if hypnotized by the rolling, scattering of Skittles around their feet.

…What?

“Um…Edward?” she tried tentatively.

No response. His gaze was riveted on the ground, his eyes flitting back and forth across the tiles, desperately tracing the movements of her lost candy.

She tried again, this time reaching out to put a hand on his arm—it was only later that she realized that she’d never voluntarily touched him before—and saying a little louder this time, “Edward?”

And she jumped back, startled, when Edward started violently, his head snapping up, his expression dazed. “Wha…?” he started, and then he focused on her, and his eyes went wide again, only this time with mortification. “Oh—I—” He didn’t manage anything, just looked off, pressing his fist tightly over his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before turning around.

Bella just stared at him, her eyebrows crawling higher and higher on her forehead as he opened his mouth a few times, trying to say something, until he spotted Alice. She was still completely spaced out, her mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling wildly in her head, turning slowly on the spot watching all the Skittles as they slowed around her feet. “Alice!” Edward barked, sounding slightly panicked, grabbing her by her arm and shaking her; Alice jumped, looking up at him with an expression of an awakened sleep walker.

“Uh—we have to go now, Bella,” Edward said in a rush. “Thanks for everything—see you tomorrow!” And with that, he yanked Alice by the arm—she’d been drifting back to staring at the floor—and nearly hauled her off her feet as he took off down the hall, dragging his tiny sister behind him.

Bella just stared after them; when they were nearly to the exit, she heard a high-pitched call of, “Bye, Bella!” and then the two of them zoomed out the door and were gone.

Bella blinked after them for a moment more, and then could only shake herself and start picking up her scattered Skittles.

Man—the Cullens are just weird.

Chapter Text

Bella consulted her map and then took a right at the corner. She was glad she’d printed it off; she was sure to get lost without it, what with her being on her own and all.

She’d been spoiled by living in Forks. It was tiny and it was almost impossible to get lost in. Back in Phoenix, she’d compensated for her lack of direction sense by having her few well-worn paths that she took and didn’t stray from so she wouldn’t wind up in a bad part of town or something. Fortunately, Port Angeles wasn’t terribly hard to get around in, especially not in downtown, and she only had a block or two more to go before she reached the bookstore. Jessica and Angela had been good sports to let her go, but she still felt a little bad and was determined to hurry and get her books and then get back as soon as she could.

Jessica had arrived at her house with Angela in tow early in the afternoon. March Madness didn’t start up until next weekend, but there was still a basketball game on, and so Jacob and Billy had just arrived. Bella felt a little bad about leaving for their first get-together since the Superbowl, but Billy and Charlie both had shooed her along when she announced that her friends were here. “Don’t worry about us,” Billy said, his eyes twinkling. “We won’t break anything without you to ride herd over us.”

“I’m more worried that with me not here to cook, you guys will be have to survive on peanut butter and Corn Nuts,” she replied, pulling on her jacket.

Billy chuckled. “Don’t worry—it’s about time that Jacob earned his keep, so I’m gonna make him get in there and make dinner for us.”

Bella affected a bleak expression. “Well—that’s it, then. You’re all gonna die.”

Jacob put his thumb on the end of his nose and waggled his fingers at her. “I’ll have you know that I can cook just fine,” he informed her. “We’re having burgers, and you’ll be sorry you missed it.” And he stuck his tongue out at her.

“You go on, Bells,” Charlie said. “Don’t worry about us boys—we managed all right before you came. You have a good time with your friends.”

She’d smiled at everyone and waved goodbye, and then grabbed her purse and ran out to where Jessica was waiting in the idling car, and they were off to Port Angeles.

The drive took about an hour; Bella was in the back and let Jessica and Angela do most of the talking. Jessica had bought the Phantom soundtrack and so they listened to it all the way up. Bella didn’t mind Broadway musicals and showtunes—quite the opposite, really. Granny Marie had made sure she had a steady diet of musicals when she was little. But the ones she had favored had been more the old Golden Age types, like Fiddler on the Roof and My Fair Lady and West Side Story; she’d never been one for the modern Andrew Lloyd Webber stuff. Oh, well—time to broaden her horizons, she figured.

The theater was in the downtown area, and it was an older one, seeing as how Phantom had been released back in January and it was definitely nearing the end of its run. But that was okay; that meant the ticket was cheaper, and the theater was mostly empty.

The movie had been all right, she supposed. Went a bit out of its way to showcase Gerard Butler, despite the fact that she knew the original Phantom was not a very nice (or handsome) guy, and also despite the fact that his voice really wasn’t quite the caliber of the other leads. But Jessica and Angela didn’t notice that at all and were more than happy to coo and sigh over him.

“God, he’s so gorgeous,” Jessica gushed when the movie was over and they emerged into the cloudy but bright afternoon. “Don’t you think so, Bella?”

Bella smiled apologetically. “He’s okay—not quite my type, though. If I’m going for the bad boy in a musical, I’ll stick with Marlon Brando in Guys and Dolls.”

“Marlon Brando?” Angela repeated in disbelief. “The Godfather?”

“No, no,” Bella shook her head. “Not when he was all old and gone to seed—have you ever seen him when he was younger?” She fanned herself. “Hoo, boy—hot stuff.”

But as neither of them had, he was easy enough to dismiss and get back to Gerard. Bella followed along, happy enough just to walk along behind them; she didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all or a snob or something, talking about the old musicals. But since those were really the only ones she knew, her only other option was to keep mostly quiet.

It was later in the afternoon, but definitely not time for dinner, so Jessica led them to the mall, a short walk from the theater. Bella had never been much of a mall-rat, but she liked window-shopping as much as the next person and wasn’t at all averse to it.

However, she was not a big fan of clothes shopping; about an hour after looking through all the smaller fun shops, Jessica and Angela had both wanted to hit one of the department stores and check out prom dresses.

“In March?” Bella asked, a bit puzzled. “Prom isn’t until May.”

“Never too soon to start,” Angela cheerfully informed her.

“Yeah—we want to make sure we get something good.”

They might, but Bella really didn’t. Ben and Angela were already understood to be going to the junior-senior prom together this year, and while Jessica didn’t have a date, Bella was sure she wouldn’t have any trouble getting one, even if, as she remarked, she made Eric take her. Bella, on the other hand, had neither any expectation of being asked nor any desire to go. That alone would have been enough to dampen any interest in clothes shopping. Add in the fact that her two companions were slim and trim and tiny and she was rather not, well, that just pushed the idea out of the realm of the tiresome and into the realm of the uncomfortable.

She went along with it as well, but definitely wasn’t trying on anything. She offered her opinion where she could, on color mostly, but a lot of the modern dress styles didn’t appeal—that included one that Jessica was wild for, so she just bit her tongue. Angela tried to coax her into trying on a nice green one that was admittedly pretty and would have worked with her overly-generous bust, but Bella steadfastly refused.

“I hate for you just to be sitting here while we try on stuff,” Angela said over her shoulder where she was looking at her reflection in a full-length mirror; Bella wouldn’t have thought it, with her coloring, but the pale yellow dress really looked good on her.

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t mind. Although…” She looked up to see Angela peering back over her shoulder.

When Billy and Jacob had arrived at the house earlier that day, Bella had taken the opportunity to ask Billy if she could interview him for her “living history” report. Jacob had made the obligatory cracks about him being a real live fossil, but after he shut up, Billy had said he would be happy to be her primary source. With that in mind, she could buy a couple of books that she’d need—her paper was required to have a minimum of five sources besides her interview with Billy, and only two of those could be from the internet—and so had printed out a list of possible bookstores in PA. One had been in the mall, but when she’d stopped in it had been a chain-type place and hadn’t had anything on regional culture. That left another couple of stores in downtown, which weren’t far from where they were now.

“Well, I was hoping that I could visit a couple of book stores while we were here; I wanted to get a couple of sources for my history report,” she told Jessica and Angela.

“That’s cool—we can go after we’re done here,” Jessica said, hanging up the bright pink thing she’d declared “too slutty” and grabbing the sparkly black one instead.

“Oh, no—that’s okay,” Bella was quick to say. “I don’t want to drag you guys away; I was just going to suggest that I go to the store—it’s not far—and you guys can go check out Macy’s like you wanted, and then we can meet back somewhere and then go for dinner.”

Angela at first didn’t like it—“Bella, come on, we’ve dragged you all over the place; it’s only fair”—but Bella managed to convince them.

“Really, guys—this is a fun-day. I don’t want to rain on the parade with school stuff,” she said. “So you guys can keep trying things on, and we can meet back up afterward.”

They’d settled on meeting back at the same entrance where they’d come in on the east side of the mall. That was actually on the opposite side of where Bella would be, but it was familiar, and she was reasonably sure that she could find it again.

Bidding Jessica and Angela a temporary farewell, Bella had made her way through the mall and come out on the other side. It was a moderately sunny day today, the sky dotted with soft little clouds but with plenty of room for the lowering sun to shine through. That meant it was shining in her eyes at the moment, because she hadn’t brought any sunglasses, but she just squinted as she looked at her map and made her way towards the first bookstore on her list.

When she arrived, it turned out not to be the kind of store she’d been hoping. It was a bit new-agey, with lots of incense and carved figurines of Eastern deities, and what little there was on American Indian culture in the book section had been more along the lines of spiritualism and herbal medicine and such. She’d browsed a bit anyway, to be polite (and had been half-tempted to buy the silver Eye of Horus charm in the jewelry case, but it was a bit more than she was willing to pay), and then left, the bamboo chimes on the door clattering hollowly in her wake.

The other store was further back from the bay, deeper into town away from the main streets. And it was also exactly what she was looking for, she found: a local place with fewer mainstream and popular books and lot more by way of guidebooks, regional history, and local culture.

She pawed through their section on the Northwestern tribes; she found the book the Embry had said would be good for her, the one the kids at the Quileute school used for their textbook, and a handful of others that looked good. With her narrow budget, she only ended up selecting two, but it was a definite start and she was pretty sure they would be enough; maybe just one more reference specializing in US Indian policy or something, but right now, she was set.

And good thing, too, as it was getting pretty late. She and Jessica and Angela had agreed to meet back at the east entrance at 6:15, and her phone told her that it was already 5:45, and she had to walk all the way back. She paused where she’d been reading one of her books so she could pay, and then thanked the clerk and hurried out, pulling her copy of Jacob’s textbook back out of the bag to find her place again. She flipped back to the parts with the old Quileute legends that she’d been skimming before in the store and started reading as she walked.

She’d found Jacob’s story about the Dask'iya in there; she very much wanted to read it without all of his embellishments. She guessed that Jacob had been paying more attention in class than he and Embry had said, because the first half of the story had pretty much agreed with everything he’d told them, if the book did tell it a bit more poetically. The second part, though, she wryly guessed he’d pretty much made up from whole cloth. There was no mention of the Quileutes turning into wolves. To say nothing of the handsome and muscular chief’s son.

Snorting a little to herself, she finished the tale of the Dask'iya and then slid the book back into her sack, and then looked up, shading her eyes and squinting into the sun—

…which was setting in the east?

Aww, dammit!

She scowled to herself, rummaging in her purse for her map. She should know better than to read and walk at the same time—she was supposed to be going east. She unfolded her printout and managed to locate the street corner she was standing on.

Well, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been; she was only a few blocks in the wrong direction. At this point, though, it’d be easier for her to circle back around on the other side of the mall to get to the west entrance; she’d nearly gone all the way around the east side.

Growling under her breath, she kept her map out as she started walking—in the right direction this time.

They hadn’t yet flipped over to daylight savings time, and it was still March, so the days weren’t long. The sky was turning purplish in front of her, the shadows growing longer as the sun dipped down to the horizon. She turned the corner, zipping down a side-street that would get her back to the mall where she could meet Jessica and Angela.

She was watching her map, making sure she didn’t take a wrong turn again, and so she was just asking to trip, except that she didn’t.

She was pushed.

One minute she was turning between two buildings to get back to the main thoroughfare, the mall only a block away, and then next she knew she was flying forward from where the two rough hands had landed hard in her back, sending her arms flying out, her map fluttering from her fingers as she desperately tried to catch herself before she crashed onto the pavement, the wind knocked out of her.

Her eyes stinging, she looked wildly up—just in time to see the man pounding away down the street with her purse in his grip.

“Hey!” she could only yell, helplessly and ineffectually, her chest clenching horribly, but he kept running, ducking out of sight between to buildings.

Oh, dammit! Her—her purse! All her money, her wallet—her driver’s license! Her cell phone was in there! She’d just been mugged, oh, no, now what—no!

She scrambled to her feet, barely remembering to grab her books, knowing it was useless to give chase, feeling her eyes start to burn with frustrated and angry tears, feeling helpless and violated and panicked—when her head snapped up at the sound of a shocked yell.

And the man came flying back out of the alley.

Literally.

Bella could only gawp as he sailed through the air and landed noisily in a row of garbage cans.

A string of incoherent curses came boiling out of the pile of upended cans as her attacker fought his way out of them and to his feet. “What the fuck, you—?” he started angrily, his voice slushy but furious, but then he froze as he saw Bella standing there. He stared at her for just a moment, and then looked back down the alley, and something must have spooked him, because he just took off in the other direction, leaving Bella to stare, open mouthed, at his retreating figure.

But then a twist of reflexive fear coiled in her middle when a tall, shadowy figure strode out of the alley way, wearing a long coat and an old-fashioned fedora pulled low over his eyes, and in his gloved hands was a very familiar purse. It wasn’t a cop, like she hoped, and now the guy was rummaging through her purse, pulling out her wallet, shit, he was just another one, he was robbing her, but what could she do—she had to get out of here, who knew what he would—

And then he looked up, and Bella’s jaw hit the ground.

“Edward?”

He jumped a mile, but it was unmistakably Edward Cullen standing there in the fading light, dressed like Sam Spade but with his jaw just as slack as hers. “Bella?” he said blankly.

She stared at him. He stared back at her. Her stunned brain slowly began to work again, the adrenaline kicking in, her hands starting to shake, her heart thumping in her ears—the guy had flown out of the alley, what—how—

“Edward, what—how did you—that guy—did you—?”

Her voice was shaking, and she couldn’t seem to get anything coherent out. Edward just gaped at her the whole time, until he finally seemed to snap awake, quickly crossing the distance between them and thrusting her purse into her hands. “Here,” he said quickly, cutting off her stammering and not looking at her. “This is yours.”

That got her attention; she snatched it up, rummaging through its contents. There was her phone, her wallet, her chapstick and her pen and her compact. She tore open her wallet, and there was her driver’s license and her student ID and her money and everything. She had been mugged—but she hadn’t been robbed. Because Edward saved her.

She just blinked stupidly at him, her purse clutched tightly in her hands. “Edward,” she finally managed, “thank you.”

Edward was looking supremely uncomfortable. “I, uh, you’re welcome,” he said finally.

Bella still just stared up at him; her mugging and the aftermath couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but only now was her mind catching up to the whirlwind of events that had happened just a minute ago.

“Edward,” she said again, her voice slow with disbelief, “That guy—he flew out of the alley—was that…was that you? I mean, did you—did you do that?”

Edward jammed his gloved hands in his pockets and stared at the ground, scuffing his shoe (an oddly old-fashioned monk shoe with double buckles, she noticed) on the pavement. “I—I take judo,” he finally grunted. “And I—I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, feeling incredibly inarticulate but with nothing else to say. “That—that was amazing.” She snapped her mouth closed, feeling her face heat as she realized that she was dangerously close to gushing. But it was just that—that—that had been heroic, stopping her mugger like that.

Edward didn’t seem to think so; his cheeks were dark too, and he was fidgeting and still not looking at her. “What, uh, what are you doing here?” he eventually asked.

It took Bella a minute to remember that herself. “Oh—I came here today. Shopping. With Angela and Jessica. Er, Webber and Stanley,” she added on the end. “I went to a bookstore, but I was going back to meet them when—when that guy knocked me down.” Edward flashed a rather dangerous look at the last, which made her twitch. Belatedly, she looked at her phone, as much to not have to see that look in his eye as to check the time, and she grimaced. “I’m late—I was supposed to meet them at the mall right now.”

She rubbed her tender hands together; she was starting to feel shaky and pathetic, the reality of her aborted mugging sinking in. Charlie was going to hit the roof when he heard about this, and might lock her in her room for her own safety. She rubbed a little at her eyes as a small sniff escaped her, hating the feeling of the angry, pointless tears that were trying to well up. Dammit, she was fine, and she hadn’t actually had anything stolen—there was no reason for her to be acting like a damsel in distress.

“Here.” She started at the brief touch she felt on her elbow; she looked up to see Edward holding something out to her. She thought it was a tissue, and despite her embarrassment, she took it—only to find that it was a real handkerchief. Monogrammed, even, she realized as she saw the letters EAM embroidered in blue on one corner.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked kindly, his voice much more even now.

“Yeah. Fine,” she said, dabbing at her eyes in spite of herself. “Who’s EAM?” she asked to change the subject.

Edward blinked, and then looked a little self-conscious. “Oh. That, uh, that’s me. My name. Before—before I was adopted.”

“What was it?” Bella asked, snuffling a little to keep from wiping her nose on the fine white material, so as she handed the damp cloth back to him, she was comforted that it was at least not all snotty.

“Mason. Edward Anthony Mason.” Edward took the handkerchief and folded into a precise square before tucking it into his breast pocket—of the suit coat he was wearing underneath his long overcoat, she realized bemusedly. His attention to his handkerchief seemed a bit more studied than it warranted.

“That’s nice,” she said, for lack of anything else to say. “My middle name is Marie,” she offered, and then felt what had to be a slightly hysterical giggle try to escape her at the thought of discussing their middle names after he’d just saved her from a mugging. Well—even if it was hysteria, she’d prefer to be laughing than still crying.

Edward finally looked up. “Why don’t I take you to your friends,” he offered, and abruptly removed his hat; his flyaway hair sprung up from underneath it, gleaming dully in the light of the streetlamp above. “It’s nearly dark and—well, you’ve already had trouble. You shouldn’t—I can’t let a lady walk home alone.” Bella felt herself flushing at his overly formal but obviously sincere words (even though it was all delivered with his usual halting speech). “My car is just around the corner; I can take you to meet Jessica and Angela.”

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. Edward turned slightly, gesturing ahead of them, and she started walking, her grip tight on both her bag and her purse. Edward put his hat back on and fell into step beside her (well, mostly—he walked along the edge of the street, leaving her on the sidewalk by herself). “What’s the occasion?” Bella couldn’t help but ask, still trying to recenter herself. “You look like you’re hunting the Maltese Falcon,” she joked.

It fell flat; Edward just looked uncomfortable again. “N-nothing,” he stammered. “I just—I just like to—I like these clothes better than—than school clothes.”

Bella didn’t blame him; she liked them better too, and she couldn’t help notice how good he looked in them, and she had to look away to cool her cheeks. “They’re nice,” she said for lack of anything else to say, and after a brief murmured thanks from him, they fell silent for a moment.

“Did you find your book?” he asked suddenly. “From when you were shopping, before—earlier?”

“Oh—mmhmm,” she answered, reflexively reaching into her bag and pulling them both out just to check that they were both in fact still there. “For my report for history, on the Quileute tribe,” she said, flashing the titles before tucking them away.

Edward didn’t have an answer to that, just an oddly disconcerted look, and he didn’t say anything else until they reached his car. He was true to his word; once they turned the corner onto the next street, he guided her to not the silver SUV he and his brothers and sisters drove to school, but a sporty little red Mustang. “Nice,” Bella said appreciatively. “My grandma used to drive one of these—well, an older one, I mean. A ‘68.”

“That was a good year. For Mustangs,” Edward added unnecessarily. “This one is Rosalie’s.” He came around the side with her and then opened the passenger door.

Feeling absurdly pleased by the gesture, she gingerly slid inside onto the leather seats, taking down her hair and putting the clip on her purse strap. Edward had firmly closed the door and was just getting in on the driver’s side—only to go flying right back out again. Bella watched him, bemused, as he went around to the back, and she heard him fiddling with the trunk, and then he slowly made his way back to the door and sat down, starting the engine without actually getting fully in the car yet. He faced the street for a moment, took a deep breath, and then quickly rolled down his window before he closed the door.

“Where were you supposed to meet your friends?” he asked, his voice oddly strangled as he shifted in his seat, huddling tightly against the door, gripping the steering wheel so tightly she heard the leather creak.

The aftershocks of her experience were leaving Bella rather prone to laughing; seeing Edward lapse back into his usual odd behavior after his daring rescue was threatening to make her start giggling. “Over—over on the west side of the mall,” she said, managing to keep her tone even.

Edward threw the car into gear, and Bella lurched in her seat as he went tearing out into the street, stepping on the gas and driving way faster than the speed limit, and all but hanging his head out the window like a dog.

She quickly turned away to stare out the window, biting her lip to keep from laughing in his face, but then jumped as her purse started ringing. Fumbling a little, she managed to get her phone out and saw that it was Jessica. Crap—she must be really late by now. Already embarrassed and apologetic, she put the phone to her ear and said, “Hello?”

“Hey, Bella—where are you?”

“Hey—I’m sorry, I’m running late,” she answered ruefully. “I’m on my way now, though.”

“Oh, it’s okay—it’s not you, we finished up early, is all,” Jessica answered. “Listen—we went ahead and got the car and went to check out this place across the street, La Bella Italia, and it’s really great—Angela is gonna grab a table, and I can come pick you up wherever you are, and we’ll all just eat here.”

Bella squinted down the street; they were at a stop light, so despite his impatient fidgeting Edward was forced to stop his wild driving and wait, and Bella could just see the sign down the road. “Is it on Main Street?” she asked.

“Yeah, right across from the mall entrance.”

“Actually, I can see it, I’m almost there—I’ll just meet you out front,” she said.

“Okay—great!” Jessica chirped. “We’ll see you in a bit!”

“Bye,” Bella said, and ended the call. The car was moving again, and she looked up to tell Edward where to stop—just as he pulled smoothly into a parking space in front of La Bella Italia.

Bella blinked in surprise, but didn’t have a chance to say anything, because Edward was already leaping out of the car. Hurriedly, she tucked her phone into her purse, but then started as her door suddenly opened, and there was Edward, holding it open for her as he looked off in the other direction. She grabbed her bag and swung out of the car, gripping the side of the door. “How did you know where I was going?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

Edward froze, his eyes going wide. “I—uh—it—” he stammered, his eyes darting around. “I saw Jessica’s car,” he said quickly, pointing to the blue SUV parked down the row. “And there they are,” he said, pointing towards the restaurant, and then gestured her up to the sidewalk.

“Oh,” she said, still a little puzzled, but she obligingly moved to the side so he could close the door, and looked up—just in time to see Angela and Jessica gawping at her from the steps leading up to the restaurant.

Flushing for no reason that she could explain, she waved to them and started to move their direction. The two of them came dashing down off the steps and met her halfway. “Oh my God, Bella—what are you doing with Edward Cullen?” Jessica whispered the minute she was close enough to hear.

Bella’s fingers tightened on her purse. “Well, actually—I got mugged.”

Jessica and Angela’s eager expressions were quickly replaced with horror. “Oh my God—are you okay?” Angela asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I am—he didn’t get away with anything—Edward stopped him and got my purse back for me.”

Edward himself had just approached their little knot, his hat in his hands, and was immediately confronted with three rapt stares.

“Oh, wow—really?” Jessica said, her voice breathy.

“Yeah,” Bella answered, equally breathless. “He just—the guy came flying out of the alley when Edward threw him, and then he ran away, and there was Edward with my purse.”

“Wow.”

Edward was fidgeting and blushing again. “It—it really wasn’t anything,” he demurred, twisting his hat.

“Not anything?” Bella demanded incredulously. “That guy had to have flown at least six feet!” Something that was sounding more and more incongruous as her shock wore off, now that she thought about it, but she couldn’t dispute the evidence of her own eyes.

Jessica and Angela were looking up at him with wide, wondering eyes, and Bella felt herself dangerously close to doing the same. Clearing her throat unnecessarily, she said, “Well—um, thank you so much, Edward—again,” she added with a little laugh. “That’s two times now—are you going to make a habit of bailing me out?”

He blinked at her, but then a small smile broke out of his face. “If—if I am, it’s, uh, well worth it.”

Bella blushed furiously, and Jessica and Angela tittered; she refused to look at them. Fortunately, a notion struck her, and so she asked, “Well, we were just meeting for dinner. Obviously,” she added, feeling a bit dumb the minute she said it and trying to cover. “Would you like to join us? Or have you eaten?”

“Oh, yes, Edward, why don’t you have dinner with us?” Jessica seconded eagerly.

Edward gave her a polite smile. “I’m afraid I’ve already had something to eat this evening, thank you.”

Jessica’s face fell, but Bella was not to be deterred. “Well, I still owe you a coffee or something from the last time you came riding to my rescue—and now you’ve done it again. You’re still welcome to sit with us—if you don’t have anything else you need to do—and won’t you let me buy you a coffee and a dessert or something?”

He seemed torn, flicking his eyes between her and the other girls, before finally giving her a tiny, almost shy smile. “Well, I—all right. As long as I’m not imposing,” he added.

“Oh, no, not at all!” Angela trilled.

Edward turned to her when she spoke, and his smile suddenly broadened, wide and confident. “Well, then, lead on, ladies,” he said easily. “It’s not every night I have the chance to have dinner with such charming company.”

There was a storm of giggles from Jessica and Angela, who dashed up the steps in front of him before he turned to Bella, his smile for her much more hesitant, but she just smiled back and went on ahead inside.

The hostess led them to a round table in the middle of the room, but not before Edward had stripped off his leather gloves and taken off his coat, leaving them with his hat at the coatrack inside the door. He was wearing a smart brown suit underneath it, a glimpse of which Bella had seen before, with a light blue shirt and a dark brown tie. He looked very at home in the low lighting and slightly-fancy atmosphere of the restaurant; Bella and her friends were in jeans, but Jessica and Angela in their pretty tops and cute ballet flats still didn’t look out of place. Bella, in her sneakers, hoodie, and blue stretch tee, felt rather conspicuous and underdressed.

Edward very gallantly pulled out the chairs for all the girls to sit in, making Jessica and Angela giggle again; Bella hoped they weren’t going to be that silly all night. She felt a little silly herself, granted, having Edward stop her mugging, but she was able to string three words together without cackling like a hyena.

As it happened, they weren’t that silly all night. They’d quieted down by the time the waitress came to take their orders (she asked Edward what he wanted first, but he politely deferred to the girls and only after they’d ordered did he ask for a small coffee and an order of tiramisu). Jessica seemed to be leading the conversation, asking him why he was in Port Angeles, her tone slightly insinuating, as if she thought he had an ulterior motive, but Edward just genially told her that he was doing some shopping.

“We came to see Phantom,” she told him as the waitress brought out salad and breadsticks. “I absolutely love Gerard Butler,” she sighed. “My aunt took me to see the play live when it was playing in Seattle—have you seen it?”

“Not the Lloyd-Webber version, no,” Edward answered easily. “The first Phantom I ever saw was the original, so that will always be my favorite.”

“Original—the silent version, with Lon Chaney?” Bella asked. Edward looked surprised but nodded. “Yeah, that’s the first one I ever saw, too,” she said, smiling. “Parts of it were creepy, but I had trouble not laughing at Lon Chaney’s nose,” she added, pushing up the end of her own nose with her finger to give herself a pig snout.

Edward snorted, a rather undignified sound that Bella had never heard him make, and then he said, “I didn’t think people our age watched silent films very much anymore.”

“Well, I don’t either—not really. I only saw the silent Phantom because my mom and I went to a showing with a live organist once," she admitted. "And I've only really seen a couple others. Nosferatu, The Lost World, parts of Ben Hur, and I do like some Charlie Chaplains. But I’m really more into the Golden Age—the Thirties and Forties. I really don’t watch too many modern movies.”

“Come on, Bella” Angela mocked. “Just today you were telling us all about the little tiny changes in the Lord of the Rings movies that you didn’t like.”

“I didn’t say I don’t watch anything new,” Bella protested. “I like Lord of the Rings—and Harry Potter. And eighties comedies and stuff. But I just grew up watching the Classics with my dad and my grandmother, is all. I mean, all these remakes of old movies they’re making these days, or modern additions to series and stuff—I can’t stand those.”

“Do you know The Thief of Baghdad?” Edward asked her suddenly, a slightly unfamiliar gleam in his eye.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Bella exclaimed, eager despite the subject change. “My grandmother loved that one, with the giant spider and the genie!”

“You do know that’s a more modern remake of the old silent Douglass Fairbanks classic,” he said, with just a hint of slyness in his tone.

Bella’s mouth fell open briefly—she could remember exactly one time that Edward had made a joke—but as Angela and Jessica started snickering at her expense, she just gave him a narrow-eyed look and a pinched smile. “Touché,” she said. “I’ll give you that one, and Douglass Fairbanks too—but do not expect me to like the newer version of Stagecoach, or—or Pierce Brosnan over Sean Connery as James Bond.”

“What?” Angela demanded. “Bella, no—Pierce Brosnan is totally the sexiest Bond.”

“Bite your tongue!” Bella said fiercely. “Sean Connery is the only Bond.”

“Bella has a thing for old guys,” Jessica said confidentially to Edward, who gave Bella sideways look.

“So what if I do?” Bella said, her voice stout despite her unreasonable embarrassment at Edward’s glance. “You can’t tell me that Cary Grant isn’t pretty much the most handsome man ever—or that Alan Rickman’s voice isn't just to die for.”

Angela giggled a little. “You have to give her that last one—I’ve heard a recording of him reading one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. It’s like butter.”

“No kidding—and Sean Connery is even better,” Bella sighed. “That Scottish accent sends me—that’s my retirement plan, you know,” she said to the table. “When I’m an old woman, I’m going to retire to Scotland and just sit in the parks all day and listen to the old men talk and let my knickers ripple.”

The entire table burst into shrill, girly giggles—including Edward.

Jessica and Angela didn’t seem to notice, but Bella did, and could only stare across the table at him. Edward quickly got himself under control, his bout of amusement immediately giving way to mortification, his cheeks darkening as he coughed and hid in his coffee cup.

Bella hid in her Coke as well, snickering slightly. Edward quickly changed the subject, asking Jessica about the dresses she’d looked at today, and she was off, recounting all her favorites over their entrees, while Edward listened so intently that Bella couldn’t tell if he was just faking interest or not. When he started suggesting places where his sisters always found good shoes, she could only conclude that it was genuine. He drew Angela into the conversation as well, gently teasing her about Ben when he asked about her dress. Bella was content to eat her mushroom ravioli and just listen, as she didn’t have much to contribute when it came to dress shopping and dates, and besides, watching the conversation was actually more interesting. Specifically, watching Edward—because she’d never seen him like this before.

He had been exactly his usual self when she met him on the street: stuttering, fidgety, awkward, and prone to his weird episodes, but once he got in the restaurant, chatting with Jessica and Angela, he underwent a complete turnaround. Now he was charming and thoughtful, with almost courtly manners—practically a different person than the one she knew. She’d always been so baffled before when other girls had gushed over him at school, and they had seemed just as confused when Bella said he was weird. Now, though, Bella guessed she was seeing what they saw, and yeah, if that was how he was with everyone else, then maybe she could see why other girls giggled over him. Honestly, how many high school boys would be so willing to sit around and listen to girls talk about dresses and movie crushes?

Maybe he was gay, she mused, and had to hide a chuckle at the thought of their various female classmates' efforts in that direction being entirely futile.

After dinner, they opted to get two desserts to share around the table, to which Edward also donated a good chunk of his tiramisu—he’d only picked at it over dinner. Bella thought it was tasty and so had to ask if he didn’t like it, and he’d quickly reverted to the version of Edward that she knew, stuttering and vaguely panicky as he hurriedly assured her that he just wasn’t all that hungry.

When they were finished, their waitress Michelle came over to the table, and Bella went for her purse when she saw that she was bringing the check.

“Here, please,” Edward said suddenly, holding up a credit card.

“What?” Bella blurted before Jessica or Angela had a chance to say anything. “Edward, no! The point was that I was going to take you out—my thank you!”

Edward looked down at his hands, fiddling with his credit card. “Bella, I—I can’t let a lady pay,” he said shyly. “Any lady,” he added quickly, straightening in his seat and giving a brilliant smile to the other two girls that left them both cooing their thanks to him.

Bella’s mouth twisted guiltily as Michelle took his card. “But I was the one who asked you to come to dinner,” she said, protests futile at this point, but she couldn’t help it.

Edward’s cheeks darkened. “I know, but I—I can’t,” he said, tugging on his collar a little. “Please, I want—” He looked to the girls sitting on either side of him, and again seemed to throw off his usual uncertainty. “I think it’s a very small price to pay for such lovely dinner dates this evening,” he said smoothly, smiling at both Jessica and Angela and making them giggle, and then giving Bella another one of those smaller, tentative smiles.

Bella could only acquiesce with what little grace she had left and allowed Edward to usher them all out of the restaurant, helping them into their coats (well, helping Jessica and Angela; he held Bella’s jacket out for her, but the minute she turned and got one arm in it, he dropped it and went dashing over to wrap himself up in his own coat and jam his hat down on his head, leaving her with her coat half-on and slightly miffed).

He didn’t speak again until they got outside by Jessica’s car. “Are—are you sure you’re all right, Bella?” he asked tightly.

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I didn’t get robbed—thanks to you—so really the only thing that happened was that I got pushed down. And I’ve had worse falls without any help from anybody,” she added.

Edward’s mouth hardened, so Bella dropped the joking. “But really—thank you, Edward,” she said earnestly.

He shook his head. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t,” she insisted. “My dad will probably want to take a report or something,” she said, the thought suddenly occurring to her.

“That’s all right,” Edward said, and a small smile curled his lip. “Maybe I can help the police get their man; I got a very good look at his face.”

Bella smiled, and then told him thank you one more time, and then he bid them all goodnight and headed back to his own car. Jessica unlocked her SUV and Bella scrambled into the back.

Jessica didn’t even wait to start the car before she pounced. “Oh my God, Bella Swan!” she shrieked, startling her. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were meeting Edward today?!”

“Meet—what?” Bella asked, bewildered.

“Did he ask you to meet him here?” she went on eagerly.

“What? Ask me—Jessica, I got mugged!” Bella said in outrage.

“You mean he really did just happen to run into you getting mugged and saved you?” Angela asked. “That’s so romantic.”

“Romantic?!” Bella was reduced to just repeating what they were saying, completely unable to believe what they were implying.

“Oh, come on, Bella,” Jessica said as she backed out of the parking space. “You don’t really think you’re fooling us—you two were so cozy over dinner, with your old movies and stuff.”

Angela sniggered. “Must be that lab bench you share.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bella said, finally finding her voice. “We weren’t meeting here, and we aren’t cozy—you spent more time talking with him about shoes than I did about movies! Cozy—for crying out loud, don’t you remember that I thought he was so creepy on my first day, Angela?” she demanded.

“Yeah, and I don’t know why,” she replied. “I mean, he’s so—charming.”

“Not with me,” she said decisively. “He’s always weird around me, not looking at me during class and being—just weird.”

“He sure couldn’t take his eyes off you tonight,” Jessica said in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, come off it!” Bella snapped, exasperated. “He did not!”

“I know he didn’t,” Jessica answered smartly, leaving Bella to sputter. “All while he was talking to me, he kept sneaking looks at you.”

“And he was sure charming to us, but you say that he loses his cool around you—only around you?” Angela tossed in slyly, and Bella could have cheerfully strangled her.

“Bella, I don’t know how you missed it,” Jessica said, “but Edward Cullen is totally into you.”

“He is not!”

But they ignored her heated denial, giggling and speculating in the front seat, leaving Bella to fume in mortification in the back.

Chapter Text

Just as Bella had predicted, when she told him about her aborted mugging, Charlie had hit the roof. Not even softening him up by telling him what a good time she had first did any good. The instant she said that she’d been attacked, he’d gone into full cop-mode, demanding all of the details, about where she was and what she was doing, and anything she saw, heard, or remembered about the perp—not to mention the stern dressing down she’d gotten for going off by herself. That one that she could only sheepishly endure, though, as it really wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought herself right when she’d been mugged. By the end of it, though, she was left feeling like a complete idiot for having even gone on the trip in the first place, and she was tired and didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“I don’t think we’d have any kind of case, Dad,” she said when he started making nebulous plans about taking her to Port Angeles to look at mug shots or a lineup. “He pushed me down so I really couldn’t see him, and he didn’t actually steal anything. Edward got my purse back right after he took it, and everything was there. But Edward did say that he’d be happy to talk to you, because he got a good look at him,” she offered in an effort to divert Charlie’s attention.

It didn’t work quite like she’d intended. “Thank God for that boy—almost seems like he’s looking out for you,” he said, and the possible meaning of his words seemed to hit him right after he said them. He gave Bella an uncomfortable, speculative look that made heat crawl over her face. “Bella, you weren’t—you weren’t meeting him in PA or anything, were you?” he asked haltingly, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“No!” Bella’s face burned. “No, it wasn’t anything like that—I just—I just ran into him.” Her mouth twisted. “Jessica and Angela kept bugging me about the same thing,” she groused. “But I swear,” she went on, “I was just as surprised as anyone to see him there. It was just a coincidence.”

Charlie looked intensely relieved, and then sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Bells—I don’t want you going off by yourself like that again.”

She fought not to roll her eyes. “I won’t, Dad, I promise—”

“Bella, I’m serious.” And his voice was uncharacteristically solemn, enough that she noticed it and stopped. “It hasn’t reached the news yet, but I heard it on the radio earlier this evening—there was a triple homicide up in PA just this afternoon while you were there. It was…” Charlie stopped and bit his lip, looking off for a moment before finishing. “…it was brutal, Bella. It didn’t look like a robbery, or a rape, or a gang or anything—those people were just torn apart. Slashed to ribbons and hung upside down from the ceiling of their apartment and bled out for no reason other than cruelty, best anyone can tell.”

Bella was stunned into silence. Charlie looked back at her, saw her face, and then smiled sadly and patted her shoulder. “I don’t want to scare you, Bells, but—well, when I heard the story, I couldn’t help but think of you. I thought you were safe with your friends, though, only now I find out that you were off by yourself, and you did get—get attacked by some lowlife, and—well.” He looked down. “I can’t help but worry about my baby girl.”

There was an uncomfortably long silence, and Bella finally broke it by haltingly saying, “I’m sorry, Dad.” She swallowed before continuing. “I—it was just still daytime and in a good part of town—it wasn’t like I was going down a dark alley or anything. I just didn’t think that…well, I guess I didn’t think,” she finished in a small voice, her eyes smarting a little at the corners.

Charlie broke out into a rueful smile and only hesitated a little before gathering Bella up in a hug, one that she returned. “No, it’s okay, baby—I’m just sorry that you do have to think about things like that at all.” He let her go and rubbed her shoulders. “And I’m sorry I got so uptight about it—those murders just had me on edge, is all.”

Bella nodded in response, and Charlie said, “Well, I still want to talk to Edward Cullen—you say he got a good look at the perp?” At Bella’s affirmative, he continued, “Well, I’ll go have a talk with him tomorrow if he’s at home, or maybe after school on Monday.” With an effort, he shook off most of his cop persona and asked, “Aside from that, you say you had a good time?”

“Yeah,” said Bella, happy to be able to change the subject. “The movie was okay, and I didn’t mind mall-hopping—and I got some books I wanted for school. Dinner was good, too. What about you guys?” she asked. “You and Billy and Jacob enjoy having your boys-only club back?”

Charlie grinned. “Naw, we missed havin’ you—your desserts are the best.” While Bella preened under the praise, Charlie chuckled. “But don’t worry—we didn’t starve. Jacob really can cook a pretty good burger, and there were chips and ice cream, so we were all good.” Then he added, “But I think Jacob missed havin’ somebody his own age to talk to—and a girl he can show off for, I’m sure.” His look suddenly went calculating again. “You met up with Jacob when you went out to the beach, didn’t you?”

“Da-ad!” Bella said in exasperation. “Why do you always want me to be off meeting up with boys?!”

“I don’t—that’s the point,” Charlie retorted.

“Well, I’m not,” Bella said firmly. “I’m not meeting any boys anywhere. I’m not sneaking off on dates—heck, Dad, I’m not even going to the prom.”

Charlie blinked at this pronouncement. “What if some boy asks you?” he wanted to know.

“No one will,” she replied; after almost eighteen boyless, dateless years, the admission was only slightly painful.

Charlie looked like he didn’t know whether to be offended on Bella’s behalf or relieved for his own sake, and just settled for grunting vaguely in reply. Bella decided to take the opportunity to excuse herself to go to bed. It was late, and she’d had a rough day. But, more importantly, she’d had enough discussion of her non-existent love-life and stupid boys that everyone thought liked her, thank-you-very-much.

“Well, I was right,” Bella announced as soon as Edward turned to face her in biology on Monday. “The Chief of Police is going to come looking for you after school today.”

Edward looked at her with a slightly spooked expression until she patiently added, “About getting a report from you about the guy who mugged me so he can send it up to the police chief in PA.” She was slightly amused by his reaction; she’d thought since he’d already had his daily look-out-the-window episode, he wouldn’t be so jumpy.

He relaxed. “Oh—yes. Carlisle, um, he mentioned that we’d received a message about that yesterday.”

Charlie had definitely been on top of things, calling up PA almost immediately and spending a good chunk of time on the phone with Renée during Bella’s Sunday call, reassuring her about Bella’s safety (she had also flipped out over the mugging). Apparently talking to Edward had been high on his to-do list about it as well.

Bella smiled reassuringly at him. “Well, you don’t have to worry about going to the station or anything,” she said. “Dad just said that he’d drop by your place this afternoon.”

Edward hesitated, and then diffidently said, “Well…I guess I’d, uh, better tidy up my meth operation.”

Bella snorted in surprised laughter. “And hide the bodies,” she added, and he looked at her with wide eyes before smiling back. It wasn’t until after she’d run with his joke that she realized her first reaction wasn’t to think he actually was on meth, and she grinned to herself. She supposed she’d gotten used to his oddities. Well, that and the fact that she was feeling rather self-conscious around Edward for a different reason today.

Just the thought made her feel fidgety, and Mr. Banner calling the class to order was quite welcome. Bella had survived the blood-typing lab last week, and when she saw the enormous stack of review questions that Edward had had to turn in for missing it, she almost decided that she’d been better off enduring it rather than skipping. Almost—and only just. It had still been horrible having to stab herself, and some part of her was still pretty sure that the reams of review questions would have been preferable. It wasn’t the pain—it was the anticipation. That, and the sight of the grisly red drop welling up on her burning finger and the hot, coppery smell that accompanied it; she hated that.

But it was over, and now they were getting back in the groove and moving on to proteins. She’d loved that segment of her old AP Bio class, and regular class or no, she was looking forward to this one…but she found herself having trouble concentrating today. She kept cutting her eyes over to the left.

Jessica was full of it, she decided. Edward spent his time looking either up at Mr. Banner, down at his notes, or out the window. He didn’t look at her at all.

…Well, that wasn’t quite true. One time in the middle of class she looked over and caught him staring right at her, and he jumped about a mile when she did and hurriedly went back to his notes.

Bella’s cheeks had heated and she’d gone back to note-taking herself, flustered and uncomfortable. Okay, so, one time he was looking at her, and that didn’t mean anything. Especially when he didn’t smile and just more or less blew her off. Come to think of it, he got that startled, deer-in-the-headlights look just about every time she looked over in class and met his eyes.

And that didn’t mean anything—except that Edward was weird.

Bella huffed a little despite herself, reaching back to re-clip a few stray strands of her hair. Okay, so he was really good looking and all, but until recently she’d never been able to understand why several girls that she’d spoken to seemed to think that he was just dreamy. He’d never been anything but a total space cadet around her (well, that, or a total psycho). But last weekend, he’d been like a whole different person. She was having serious trouble reconciling the version of Edward who she’d met this weekend with the one she always saw in class. Which one was he: the young man in the suit who discussed the styles of women’s shoes that were popular this season and gently and gracefully deflected Jessica’s hints that she didn’t have a date for the prom yet, or the stammering boy in the too-big hoodie who was once again looking firmly out the window as if Bella didn’t exist?

At the tail end of class, Mr. Banner announced that for the rest of the week, the last ten minutes of class would be devoted to review time for the upcoming midterm. Bella grumbled under her breath; her Honors and AP classes didn’t have any real exams, just assignments or projects that would be treated as a midterm. Next week they were going to have an in-class essay in History as practice for the AP test, and their latest response log in English over Their Eyes Were Watching God would be due then too. In math Mr. Varner just blew it off, saying that he never gave midterms for Trig or Calculus unless you were failing (or just wanted to take the test to try and up your grade), so the midterm grades would just be spread out over a few of the usual rounds of math homework before spring break. There wasn’t anything to really test in gym, either, so that was nothing other than the usual humiliation of Bella’s feeble attempts to play badminton. That just left Biology and Spanish, and Bella couldn’t see how either one of those would be hard at all. Still, she dutifully wrote down what Mr. Banner said would be covered on the test next week. She’d try to get on top of studying this weekend so she wouldn’t have to cram the night before.

She sighed when Mr. Banner finished his list and looked over at Edward; he had made a tidy but spare list of topics to cover, all written in his painfully neat (if slightly girly) cursive. “How many midterms do you have to take?” she asked.

Edward twitched a little, but looked up and said, “Just two—this one and Spanish.”

“Me too. Shouldn’t be too hard,” she offered, reaching behind her to swing her coat onto her shoulders.

“No, I don’t think so.” He carefully tucked his list away in his bag with his notebook and didn’t say anything else, just deliberately zipped up his bag, gave her a very tight smile, and then turned his back to her and stared out the window.

Some charmer.

It wasn’t that she believed what Jessica and Angela had said—not really—but she couldn’t shake all of their teasing from the weekend. She didn’t necessarily want it to be true—but she could make the rather humiliating admission that the thought of any boy liking her for once did make her feel kinda fluttered. And for that boy to be the much sought-after Edward Cullen…

Yeah—Edward Cullen, who took weeks to be able to speak to her in complete sentences and who had drooled on her when they first met.

She shook her head at how ridiculous she was being. No. Just…no.

Ever since Bella could remember, any time she was staying with Charlie in Forks, that meant dinners at The Lodge.

It was an older restaurant, a mom-and-pop type place. The whole place had a sort of north woods theme going on, very Twin Peaks, like it was dressed up for tourists, but as far as Bella knew, it was very much a local haunt. It was where Charlie dined at least once a week (and more often than that when he was in bachelor mode), and the first place he had taken Bella to eat when she’d first arrived in town. Charlie of course knew everyone there, barring the occasional out-of-towner who wandered in, but up to and including the owners.

It was definitely Charlie’s kind of place; all-you-can-eat pancakes for breakfast, all the entrees served with gravy, and a glass case full of mile-high meringue pies. Down home cooking, as it were, and exactly the sort of thing Charlie always wanted after a hard day at the office or a long day on the river. Even with Bella there to play the happy homemaker, he still wasn’t about to give up his Blue Plate Special completely. So, they’d arranged things such that when the week was winding down, on Thursdays Bella would take a break from cooking dinner and they’d just head on over for a big plate of greasy spoon cooking.

It wasn’t entirely pleasant for the first few weeks; everyone seemed eager to stop by the table on their first few trips there, and Bella felt like she was under a spotlight as all of Charlie’s friends and his deputy Mark Gillespie, people she hardly knew and saw once a year at best, wanted to hear what she’d been doing and how she felt about moving back to her hometown. But as the novelty of her presence wore off and she got to know the other diners, Thursday nights at The Lodge were a lot more pleasant and relaxing.

That didn’t necessarily mean that it was quiet, though; Waylon had come in not long after they’d made their orders and had hung around their table until Charlie had made the obligatory offer for him to join them, which he’d accepted with all speed. Bella didn’t mind, not really; this wasn’t the first time he’d done so, and after the second time he had, Charlie had confided in her that he and Waylon, as the two divorcees living alone, had often met up and hung out to keep each other company. Now that Bella was here, Charlie hadn’t been spending quite as much time out, and he said he thought Waylon was probably a little lonely since he wasn’t seeing him much except on their fishing trips these days.

Bella understood, and figured that if the students at school could be so nice as to make room for the new person who didn’t have any friends, then she could pay the favor forward for Waylon. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t like him. Billy was her favorite of her father’s friends, but Waylon was still an all right guy, even if he was a bit annoying sometimes. Yeah, he needled her all the time about various stupid things she used to do, but he also always wanted to hear what she was doing and how school was going. Rather to her embarrassment, he seemed to take as much pride in her academic accomplishments as Charlie did—only he was that much more ebullient about it.

“Look at you, just Little Miss Smartypants, with all your honors classes,” he said after she told them that she wasn’t going to need to take many midterm tests. He grinned at her around the cigar he was lighting up (there were No Smoking signs in the restaurant, but the locals tended to ignore them). “Charlie, I bet you she’s top of the class—will get to give a speech at graduation and everything.”

Bella shook her head modestly and ate a French fry. Charlie didn’t defend her, just looked equally pleased by the idea. “I don’t know about that—I don’t know how class rankings work here,” she demurred, although the idea of being valedictorian—something she wouldn’t have been able to pull off at her much larger school in Phoenix—was definitely attractive.

Waylon brayed out a big laugh, tucking his gold bar lighter away in his shirt pocket. “Now you just sound like Charlie—best fisherman on the three rivers, but he never plays in any of the fishing tournaments, ‘cause, well, ‘he’s not really anything special’,” he said, affecting a rather dimwitted voice at the end for his impression of Charlie.

Now it was Bella’s turn to grin at Charlie’s discomfiture. “I’m a cop, Waylon,” he protested. “I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”

Waylon scoffed. “Knows he’d blow away all the competition, more like it,” he grinned around the cigar in his teeth. He nudged Bella just a bit too hard with his elbow. “You’ll be givin’ a speech next year, and I’ll be there to make you eat your words, Shrimp—and I’ll have one of those air horns kids like to blow these days, for when they call your name.”

There really was no discouraging Waylon; Bella wondered what would happen if he and Jacob were put in the same room together. Much like Jacob, he wheedled them into getting some dessert, and then spent most of his time stealing bites from Bella’s cherry pie (and since it was still Lent and his was chocolate, she couldn’t retaliate). Contrary to the other times he crashed their dinners, though, rather than keep them there until Bella had to plead homework so they could make their escape, Waylon said that he needed to head home because he had to get up early and left first. Bella felt a certain amount of relief as their table suddenly became much quieter—relief that was instantly transformed into guilt when Charlie asked Betty the waitress for their check and she told them that Waylon had already covered their food on his way out.

“We’ll have to cover his tab next time,” Charlie said with a rueful grin as he swung into the cruiser.

“Or maybe you can bring him home for dinner after one of your fishing trips,” Bella offered, wanting to do her part too. “I don’t mind cooking for three. Or four, if you want Harry to come along too,” she added.

Charlie nodded as he started up the car. “Maybe we’ll do that; Waylon and I would sometimes go over to Harry and Sue’s for dinner on Sunday nights. Wouldn’t hurt to have them over sometime.”

Bella nodded back, and Charlie backed out of his parking spot and turned to exit onto the main road. Rather than turn left to head home, though, he hung a right out onto Main Street. “I’m gonna run over to the station,” he said at Bella’s inquisitive look. “Somethin’ I wanna pick up.”

Bella didn’t mind, so she sat back and more or less looked out the window for the short ride to the police station. It was dark and drizzly, not much to look at but the lights of passing buildings and cars, but Bella was full and feeling slightly dozy and the rain on the windows was hypnotic.

The station wasn’t far; undoubtedly part of the appeal of The Lodge for Charlie, so close to work. He pulled into his reserved parking space, right up front for The Police Chief (apparently, Mark had been discouraged from painting “Da Chief” on the curb). “Come on in, Bells,” Charlie said, and Bella furrowed her brow; it was wet and nasty out, but with a sigh she unbuckled her belt and swung out into the drizzle.

The police station was actually one wing of City Hall. The building was squat and square and had that dingy look of Seventies architecture. The main foyer had a large, arched glass front, but inside it was all plain brick walls and peeling tile floors. Or at least it had been when Bella had last seen it; she was surprised when she stepped inside to find that the foyer, at least, had been completely redecorated. The tile was no longer grimy linoleum, but cream-colored ceramic, and the lighter color opened up the space. The walls were still the plain dark brick, but now they were hung with many black and white framed pictures that, upon closer inspection, Bella found were old photographs of Forks through the years. There was a nice front desk for visitors, a small display case showing off a few plaques won by various officials over the years, and the small portion of floor space by the glass wall had been converted into a little planted atrium, complete with a tiny fountain.

“Wow,” she remarked appreciatively. “This place looks great!”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Charlie agreed, jangling his keys as he made for the staircase that led to the upstairs offices; he gestured for her to follow, so she trailed along after him up the newly carpeted stairs. “We got a little bit of extra budget a couple of years ago, and they’ve been tidying the place up. Nothing fancy,” he added as he unlocked the door at the top of the flight.

Bella looked over at the two new flags that were hanging at eye level from the upper landing, both the US and Washington state flags. “Well, it wouldn’t take much for it to look better than it did,” she couldn’t help but remark.

Charlie snorted, holding the door open but pausing to look out over the foyer. “True—but I think they did a good job. I think the floor took up most of the time and money out here—everything else is just a little spit and polish. Put in the new desk and that case, got new flags, and the local Historical Society donated the old pictures,” he said.

He reached in the door and flicked on the hall light; here Bella could see things had been renovated too. No longer was it the nasty faded green linoleum and sterile white walls, all lit by the buzzing fluorescents. No, now the hall had a layer of functional but nice-looking Berber carpet, the walls were a soft cream color, the lights had been replaced and were silent, and the walls here were also lined by old photographs.

“Come on down to my office for a minute, Bells,” Charlie said, heading toward the end of the hall, passing by the offices of various city officials on the way to his own. Bella trotted along in his wake, curious to see how his office looked now and peering interestedly at the pictures she passed; there was one that was from a high point, looking out over the town, and there was another of some old building, and there was the river, but they passed by them too quickly for Bella to read the small brass plaques that identified them.

They reached Charlie’s office—which had a snazzy new name plate on the door—and went inside. Bella could see that the renovations had extended even down here, the carpeting and paint continuing into the office, and Charlie had some new bookshelves and a better clock. The remodeling hadn’t held back Charlie’s work-related clutter, though; his desk was the same disaster it always was, and stacks of papers filled all of the desk trays and spilled out onto the desk and all the filing cabinets.

Charlie went around the back side of his desk and sat down and started rummaging around in his drawers. Bella cast her eyes around and saw that there was even a new picture in here. Crossing the floor to have a look, she found that it was, appropriately enough, a picture of the old police station back when the town was first incorporated back in 1945. She eyed it; she doubted that Charlie would have managed in the tiny brick building. Definitely not big enough to hold all of his desk clutter.

“Bella?”

Bella looked up at the sound of her name and saw Charlie standing by his desk, something small in his hand, his expression serious. Furrowing her brow, Bella crossed the office to stand by his desk. “I want you to have this,” Charlie said, taking her hand and putting the dark object into it.

It was a compact black canister in a squarish holder; it looked very official and industrial, and Bella could see the bright yellow label on the side identifying it as pepper spray.

She looked up in surprise; Charlie smiled rather grimly back at her. “I got you this after you got mugged. Your mom and I don’t like the idea of you being without any kind of protection when you’re by yourself, so whenever you’re out, I want you to have this with you.”

Bella looked down at the canister; it was cold in her hand, and its small size was belied by its weight. “Now, you have to be careful with that,” Charlie warned. “That’s not the kind of stuff you get in a store—that’s the real thing, police grade.” He smiled slightly. “I could actually get into trouble for giving you that, so don’t go wavin’ that around.”

The pepper spray suddenly felt that much heavier. “Dad—I don’t want you to get in trouble—I can get—” she started.

Charlie shook his head. “Better me get in a little trouble than you—get into worse trouble,” he said solemnly. “Things have been really rough around here for the past year or two, deaths and break-ins and Lord knows what else. And then you got mugged up in PA.” Charlie took her hands. “I’m not gonna lock you up in the house—although part of me would like to do just that,” he joked, softening his serious words, “but I want you to be safe—so that means I want you to have the good stuff, not the cheap civilian kind.”

He took the can back. “You know how to use it?”

“I think so,” Bella answered; the yellow warning label loudly announcing that the contents were under pressure and that the propellant was flammable looked vaguely threatening.

“It’s no trouble. Here.” Charlie showed her how he was holding it, his hand tight around the base and his finger on the nozzle. “You push the safety off and then just press, like you’d think. You back up when you do, so you don’t walk right into your own pepper spray, and you holler, anything you can to get people’s attention to come help you. And never point it at somebody unless you mean it,” he added as she took it back and mimicked his grip on the can. “This stuff is serious. And don’t take it to school or anything.”

“I know,” she said, vaguely amused as she adjusted her grip until she was comfortable. She didn’t think this would have done much good against her attacker in Port Angeles; he’d pushed her down from behind and had her purse before she knew what had happened.

Charlie seemed to pick up on her thoughts. “Don’t carry that in your purse, either,” he said. “Won’t do you much good if you just get robbed again. ‘Cause this is to protect you, not your purse.” His voice was quiet. “We can replace all that—but I can’t replace you.”

Bella looked up with a small smile. “Okay, Dad,” she said, and after checking the safety, she slid it into the inside pocket of her jacket. “I’ll always keep it on me. Witch’s Honor.”

“That’s my girl,” Charlie said fondly, and then scooped up his keys.

Only he paused, frowning at the desk, and then went around the back side again to check his answering machine. “Oh—hang on, Bells—it’s Mark. I need to check this message,” he said, picking up the phone.

Bella nodded; Charlie having to talk police business was usually her cue to excuse herself, so she stepped outside and pulled his office door to behind her. She watched Charlie listening to the phone through the little window in his door, but when she saw him grimace and start dialing, she knew he was calling his deputy back and it could be a while. So, she stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and started wandering back down the halls, perusing the old pictures as she went.

All of them had neat little brass plates telling her what they were. There were various local officials from days gone by, buildings that had long since been demolished, empty fields that were now built over, that sort of thing. Down at the end by the door, though, was an impressive aerial shot of the town from the sixties, and Bella managed to find the main road, although she couldn’t find their house because it hadn’t been built yet.

Bella took the long way, up one side of the hallway and then back down the other, but when she reached Charlie’s office she saw that he was still on the phone, so she sighed and moseyed back down towards the exit. She rather wryly reflected that between Waylon’s bottomless conversation and this errand, she was glad she’d finished her homework early tonight.

She let the door fall shut and lock behind her as she exited the hallway and found herself standing on the landing. Up here she could see evidence of painting, where the old, water stained ceiling had been covered up with a fresh coat of white. The flags on the walls were the kind lined with yellow fringe to make them heavier, and the stairs still had the lingering smell of new carpet.

Bella ambled downstairs, making her way to the small planted space. It was a free-standing stone planter, the edges just wide enough to sit on. The little water feature tripped merrily along, and all the plants looked like local greenery; how convenient that they would already be well-suited to the indoors, what with not needing much sun.

Bella sighed again, bored. She went over to the display case to examine the dusty old awards. There was a generic award for service to the city for some mayor back in 1972 and something from the Kiwanis Club, there was a fishing trophy of some kind won by a previous fire chief, and a plaque commemorating the town’s fiftieth birthday. Not much to see.

The pictures down here were bigger; Bella guessed they were the good ones put out to impress visitors. There was a much bigger aerial photo of the town, and this one more recent; Bella managed to find her house on that one. It was next to a big, fancy relief map of the Olympic Peninsula, and both had little brass lights over them and looked suitably impressive. On the opposite wall were pictures more the type to interest the casual visitor. There was one of a group of American Indians that said it was members of the Quileute tribe. Bella wished there were names on it, and wondered if one of them might be a relative of Jacob’s (or maybe even her own). Next to it was a large shot of a parade, and the plaque below it identified it as the Fourth of July celebration from 1947. There was a small collection of older pictures, all of loggers and the other grim sorts who populated the town before it was a real town. And there in the back was a big picture of Bella’s school.

She moved around to get a closer look. The building in the picture was surrounded by empty space—none of the portable buildings or nearby businesses that were there now present, and the building itself was smaller, no new wings had been added yet. But it was clearly still Forks High—or the “Quillayute Valley School,” as the sign over the door of the building said. Bella looked down at the plate; the picture was from 1942. The building looked all sharp and new, and the ground was grassy but there weren’t as many trees; they must have been cleared for construction.

Bella counted the windows in the front, and was pleased to find that her Spanish classroom was one of the originals. She squinted at the people milling around the front of the building—it was clearly some kind of event, as they were all kids sitting out front despite the overcast sky, and there was an impromptu baseball game going on in the background, but there wasn’t anything on the frame or the picture itself to tell her anything about what was happening at the time.

Some of those kids were probably great-grandparents by now. She rather vaguely wondered if any of them were still here—or if they could tell her what had been happening when the picture had been taken. Maybe there was some merit to the “living history” assignment from her history class after all. She ran her eyes over the slick hair and button-up shirts of all the boys, and the short wavy bobs and prim skirts of all the girls, and snorted to imagine herself in amongst them, looking like that. The school may still look the same, but as she thought of weedy, dyed-haired Lee Stephens, or Lauren Mallory and her almost-too-short skirts and heels, she thought that the students couldn’t have looked more different.

She started to turn, to walk back towards the front, but then she stopped. And stared.

…Maybe the students hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought.

There in the photograph was Edward Cullen.

Chapter Text

Bella blinked.

She leaned in closer, squinting at the boy in the picture.

It was still Edward Cullen.

She blinked again.

No. That was ridiculous. It was just a boy in the picture who looked like him (and she didn’t care to consider the implication that her mind had immediately jumped to Edward upon seeing a boy that looked like him).

Except—it was him.

That was nuts—Bella had always heard that somewhere, everyone had a doppelganger. Genetics and random chance almost seemed to ensure it. But this guy—it went beyond just a vague look-alike. He was a dead ringer for Edward—he looked exactly like him. He was standing to the side in the picture, in the foreground as if he had been caught by accident, standing in a small group apart from the other students. His hair was slicked down in the style of the time, and he was wearing a neat button-up shirt and slacks, much like Edward had been when he saved Bella from the mugger last weekend, but the face was the same. But it had to be just a coincidence.

But what a coincidence—it looked just like him! The same large eyes and thick brows, the same sharp nose and angular jaw, the same bow-shaped mouth—everything! Why, the boy had even been caught with one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away from his companion, just like she’d seen Edward do countless times—

Wait.

His companion. A tall, willowy girl in a trim blouse and a neat box skirt, and among the curled, chin-length bobs of the other girls, her long, shining fair hair that cascaded down her back made her stand out like Rapunzel. Her arms were crossed, and even through the years of the photograph, the annoyance on her beautiful profile was clear.

…Rosalie.

…No…

By now Bella was so close to the picture that her nose was almost pressed up against the glass.

Edward. And Rosalie Hale. It—it looked just like them. Both of them.

…and standing just behind them was another student. His face was turned away from the camera, but Bella could still see the way he towered over the other students, his arms thick and his shoulders broad, and despite the cream that he’d used to slick his dark hair, she could see the rogue curls that escaped by his ears.

Edward…and Rosalie…and Emmett.

In the picture from 1942.

“Bells?”

Bella shrieked, leaping two feet in the air and whirling around to find Charlie standing behind her with a bewildered expression on his face.

“Dad!” she panted, clutching her chest. “You scared me to death!”

Charlie’s surprise was giving way to amusement. “Clearly,” he said dryly, and then his eyes flicked over to the picture behind her. “See any of your classmates in the picture?” he joked.

Bella’s stomach thudded in her middle. “Well,” she said slowly, “kinda.” At Charlie’s furrowed brow, she added. “I just—I just swore that some of the kids here really do look like kids I know from school.”

Charlie snorted. “Well, just so long as you don’t try and claim I was in school back in the 40s,” he joked. He leaned in for a quick look but then turned away; the picture held no surprises for him. “Come on—it’s late. Let’s head home. You have your pepper spray?” he asked, briefly serious.

Bella reflexively patted her pockets until she came up with the small black canister; Charlie nodded in satisfaction. “Good girl,” he said, and turned to go towards the door.

Bella lingered, taking one last look at the picture. Charlie’s interruption hadn’t changed it; the boy—Edward, her mind insisted—was still there, looking back out at her from where he was frozen in time.

“Bella?”

She tore her eyes away from the picture and trotted over to Charlie, following him out into the drizzle, but casting one last look over her shoulder at the darkened lobby and the silent photograph behind her.

“I saw your doppelganger yesterday,” Bella said.

It was the end of biology, and much to her disappointment, it looked like the protein structure section of the book was going to be just as superficial as all the other units in the regular class. Oh, well; at least the tests should be easy, given that she’d enjoyed this part of her old class so much that she had retained just about all of it.

Between starting in on the new lecture topic and the end of the class spent in review, Bella and Edward hadn’t said much to each other today beyond their usual hellos (well, after Edward finished his after-lunch-stare-out-the-window session). But in the few minutes left before the bell rang, she’d looked over and caught his eye, and he jumped as he always did, but then gave her a tiny smile while rubbing the back of his neck—and that reminded her.

She’d been quiet on the drive home last night, just mulling over what she’d seen in the lobby of City Hall. What were the odds, really? Maybe they were relatives or something—maybe Edward had grandfather who had lived in the town at the time—although Bella realized that she didn’t actually know if Edward was a native of Forks or not. And anyway, she suspected that she was imagining things where the other two people in the picture were concerned: just because the boy looked like Edward, and he’d been standing next to a broad-shouldered boy and a pretty blonde girl, her mind had filled in their faces as people she knew. For goodness’s sake—she hadn’t been able to see the other boy’s face at all. To claim he looked like Emmett just because he was big and tall was nonsense.

After a good night’s sleep, she’d more or less forgotten all about it—at least until today, when she saw Edward making that same familiar gesture.

Edward had blinked at her words, but then his smile widened slightly. “Oh—um, a rugged, good-looking type, then?” he asked, and then immediately his cheeks darkened and he looked at his bag and coughed.

Bella couldn’t help a laugh. “Naturally,” she agreed. “A perfect mix of Valentino and He-Man.”

Edward snorted rather loudly, which just made him look more embarrassed, and Bella grinned. “Seriously, though—this guy looked so much like you it was scary—I actually thought it was you for a second,” she said. “It was in an old black and white photograph they have hanging up at the police station—”

“What?”

Bella stopped short, surprised by his sudden, sharp interruption. Edward’s head had snapped up, and for a moment they just stared at each other, wide-eyed, before he hurriedly dropped his gaze back to his bag and stared at his hands where they were tightly gripping one of the straps.

Bella blinked at him for a moment, and then tried, “It wasn’t a mug shot,” and peered at his face to try to smile at him, but he wouldn’t look up. “It was just some old picture of the high school from 1942—that’s why it jumped out at me so bad.” Edward wouldn’t answer, just sat there staring at his hands. “Do—did your family come from around here?” she asked, trying to draw him out again. “Could it have been a relative?”

“Yes.” Edward’s reply was curt and decisive. He suddenly seemed to realize that Bella was staring at him with a nonplussed expression, and he belatedly gave her a weak smile. “It could have been my—grandfather, or my great uncle. That’s how I’m related to Carlisle,” he added pointlessly. “We’re first cousins once removed—his father was my grandfather’s brother. His younger brother. By a large gap.”

“Oh,” said Bella rather stupidly, trying to catch up. “I didn’t know you were actually related.”

“Yes.” Edward was casting his eyes around, his mouth kind of pinched as he reached up to tug on his hair—and Bella was once again forcefully reminded of the boy in the picture, his expression tight as he turned away from the girl next to him, his hand on his neck…

The bell rang, and without another word Edward shot out of his seat and left the room.

Bella shook her head as she stood and swung her bag on up on her arm. Just when Edward started acting like a normal human being, he’d always revert to being a weirdo. She didn’t think she’d ever understand him.

But she was so used to his behavior that she was easily able to put it out of her mind for gym class. With basketball season on, after warm-up stretches and a few laps around the gym, Coach Clapp set them to taking layups and practicing free-throw shots. Bella was no great shakes, but she preferred it to some of their other activities as there was much less danger of tripping like when trying to run after a moving ball or birdie. Fridays were always a relief in gym; those were the lazy days, where they would do something easy or sometimes even play games. Bella hated Mondays—those were usually days where they had to run the most, and for a girl with DD-cups at age seventeen, it was not a pleasant experience, particularly in a mixed class. To her mortification, more than once she’d caught some of the boys watching her bounce with rather dreamy expressions.

But just shooting baskets was all right, and gym seemed to go by fairly quickly. When the bell rang Bella joined the other girls in the locker room to change out of her uniform, which she tossed in her gym bag to take home to wash. She was glad, at least, that she had gym for last period rather than first, so she didn’t have to worry about using the public showers since she was just headed on home.

She made her way quickly down the hall to her locker, nodding and smiling at people she knew that she spotted along the way. Once she’d loaded up all her books for homework and studying, she headed in the opposite direction, hoping to dash out to her car quick enough to beat the after-school rush to leave.

She passed by Alice Cullen and Rosalie Hale on her way. Alice happily trilled “hello” as she bounced by, but Rosalie just gave her a rather thin smile and a nod, making her long golden ponytail swing behind her.

Bella slowed, and her eyes flicked over to the big frames that lined the halls of the main buildings, the ones that held the school pictures of all the graduating seniors, going almost all the way back to when the school was brand new. The ones she was standing by now were from the late sixties; their color had the faded, washed out look of early color photos, and nearly all the girls and half of the boys sported long, straight hair parted in the middle.

She wondered if maybe she could find the boy in the picture here on the walls of the school.

She cast a glance out the window; the parking lot was already noisy and crowded, so there was no point in her hurrying. She turned around and started travelling back up the hall, watching the pictures of the previous seniors get older and older, color fading to black and white and then to sepia, and hairstyles and glasses getting more and more old-fashioned. The students from 1942 were hanging on the corner just before the turn to go to the second story, across from the library, the girls with their Bette Davis curls and the boys with their slick Bing Crosby ‘dos and the occasional Clark Gable mustache.

Edward had said that he had family here back then; she scanned the Cs but found no Cullen, and after racking her brain, remembered that his name used to be Mason, but found no one with that name either. There weren’t many seniors in that year, fewer than fifty, so she went ahead and looked at each picture, trying to see if there was an obvious resemblance to the boy in the picture—or the blond girl, for that matter, but she didn’t see anyone that looked remotely like Edward.

Then again, these were only the seniors—the boy in the picture could have been any age. No reason to think that he’d be here—or that he’d even graduated. A lot of boys back then, once they’d hit eighteen, had gone straight into the army. She turned to leave, and her eyes passed over the entrance to the library…and stopped.

…Okay, she was starting to be a little ridiculous, but this was kinda nagging at her. If she could just find a better picture of the boy in the photograph—just to see him up close and to know how little he really looked like Edward—or how much, for that matter, since he was probably a relative.

She went through the gate into the library—did people really try to lift books, to make the security scanners necessary?—and up to the main desk. The nameplate on the desk identified the librarian as Mrs. Schultz. When she saw Bella coming her direction and asked if she could help her with anything, Bella said, “Yes—I was wondering, do you have copies of the old school yearbooks here?”

“Oh, yes, of course—we keep a copy of every yearbook that comes out. There over in the far-left corner,” she said, gesturing Bella in the right direction.

Smiling her thanks, Bella hurried over to the back, and found the yearbooks right where they were supposed to be, on the bottom half of the shelf. They were neatly organized by year, from the thin and plainly bound early ones to the thick, bright, and glossy ones from just a few years ago. Toward the middle she spotted the familiar cover of the yearbook from 1986, a copy of which had lived on the shelf at her old house in Phoenix, where she’d in the past giggled over Charlie and Renée’s goofy senior pictures, Charlie with his semi-mullet and Renée with her huge teased bangs.

Bella ran her finger down the spines until she found 1942 and then tipped it out of the shelf—and while she was at it, she grabbed 1941 and 1943, too. On a Friday afternoon she was the only student silly enough to still be in the library, so she easily found an empty table nearby and sat down with her prizes.

The books had that slightly musty smell of old print and glue, and the spine crackled as she opened the cover of the 1942 book. It was very plain, and the frontispiece simply said “Quillayute Valley High School” and the year. There were a few pictures of various school functions in the front and the back, but the majority of the book was simply the black-and-white school photos of the students.

The first section was all the seniors, their names neatly typed below their pictures. The faces she recognized from the framed pictures in the hall, although there were a few names below empty squares that said “No Picture Available.” She didn’t find anyone, though, who looked at all familiar, and no one with the name Cullen or Mason, so she moved on to the juniors.

The first few pages there were a disappointment, too—although when she was looking in the Cs to see if there were any Cullens, she couldn’t help a small flash of recognition when she spotted the name Emmett Clark without a photograph. After that, she had to skim through all the names, looking for ones she recognized anywhere.

But there were no familiar faces there, either, and no Cullens or Masons, and she reached the last page, prepared to move on to the sophomores—when she stopped, blinking.

There, on the last page, were two empty squares. Just names, with no picture available.

Edward and Rosalie Williams.

Her heart thumped once in her ears; she quickly flipped back a few pages, just to look—

Emmett Clark. No picture available.

The pages dropped as she slid back in her seat, her hands resting heavily on the tabletop.

Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie. The same names, but no pictures.

In 1942.

Unable to help herself, she went back through the students, page by page—even went back over to the shelf and grabbed the yearbook from 1940 when they would be freshmen.

And there they were—or rather, weren’t. The names on the page marched through the years, 1940-1943, Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie—and always without a picture. No Masons and no Cullens, and no one else she might have recognized, not in any of the years she looked at, but always those faceless three.

…that was nuts.

No, Bella was nuts—they were just names! Frowning now, she rather roughly flipped the pages of the 1941 book. Why on earth would it be so weird to think that sixty years ago, there were students that had the same names as some of her classmates now? What, did she think that it really had been Edward in the picture at the police station? Was she in Highlander—were all the Cullens here for the Gathering, and there can be only one?

Bella shut the book in her hands, her mouth twisting wryly at her own ridiculousness. No, not all the Cullens—she’d meticulously gone through all the students for all the years, and she hadn’t seen a single Jasper, and the one Alice she’d found went with the picture of a round-faced blonde girl with cat glasses who in no way resembled the Alice Cullen she knew.

Lord—could she even hear how she would sound to someone who caught her looking at all this crap? Just because there were three people in 1942 who had the same names as people she knew didn’t mean squat. There had to have been hundreds of Isabels or Isabellas in high school that year too, even if they didn’t go to this school. Jacob would look at her like she had lizards crawling out of her ears if she showed him this. Or he would just laugh in her face.

She shut two more of the yearbooks and stacked them, but her fingers lingered on the last, from 1943. Unable to resist, she flipped just one more time to the seniors and looked for Emmett, Edward, and Rosalie. There they were, their names stark in black and white below the blank white boxes where their pictures should have been. Slowly, she turned the pages back to the first; the old yearbooks had nothing like the huge sections devoted to activities and student life and such in their modern counterparts, but they did still have a few sports-related pages, with football games, the cheerleaders in their sweaters and long skirts, pep rallies, and—

Bella’s eyes went wide.

On the edge of the crowd of cheering students at the rally, his arms raised as he whooped along with the rest of them, was a huge, brawny boy, towering over the other students by at least a head, his hair unfashionably curly. The photo was grainy, and he was standing in the back, but even then, Bella would swear that it was Emmett Cullen.

Bella hated it when her weekends were entirely busy. She liked to have at least one day to just relax, because when she didn’t, she spent the next week never quite feeling like she’d gotten enough sleep.

Her Saturday was entirely filled; March Madness was on, so that meant she was going have to spend a good chunk of her morning in the kitchen, prepping for the watch party. Charlie had lately been making half-hearted suggestions that she didn’t have to cook like she had been every time, that he didn’t want her to be relegated to the help or something. Only half-heartedly, though, because she knew that he very much liked the home cooking. Bella just assured him that she didn’t mind—well, she didn’t mind the cooking part, but when Jacob had bounded into the house and crowed that the woman was back in the kitchen where she was supposed to be, Bella had chucked a wet towel in his face and made him peel the hardboiled eggs for her.

After lunch and the game, though, Billy and Jacob had stuck around. Bella had asked Billy if she could use their visit as time to conduct their interview about the history of the Quileute tribe for her report on Indian policy, and he’d agreed. She and Billy had settled in the seldom-used dining room (Jacob had been banished to the kitchen to clean up, and Charlie joined him to keep him from blowing anything up), Bella with her list of questions and her MP3 player set to “record.”

She felt terribly self-conscious about it all; it was just Billy, and if she’d asked him those sorts of questions just in the course of a conversation, she knew they could have talked for hours with no trouble at all. But since she was on tape, and it was all staged, she felt stiff and awkward.

Billy had no such trouble, and even managed to coax her into relaxing a little as he easily answered whatever she asked about the history of the tribe and the reservation, volunteering extra information and such, anything that might help her report. She managed to thaw out quite a bit by the middle of it; it sounded more like a conversation by that point.

It was a bit of a digression, but she hadn’t been able to resist asking a little bit about the legends of the tribe, the ones that she’d read in the books she’d gotten in PA. Her skepticism had been obvious when she told him about the addition to the Dask'iya story that Jacob had made at the La Push bonfire, about the Quileutes turning back into wolves.

Billy had given her a raised eyebrow. “Bella, honey—I’d think by now you’d know not to listen to a word that boy says,” he said dryly. Bella had chuckled, and then had made herself move away from the more interesting legends and back into the drier topic of the makeup and laws of the Tribal Council.

Charlie and Jacob had sort of wandered in in the course of the interview, and would both occasionally toss in comments—Charlie about the differences in the laws of Forks versus the reservation, and Jacob to remind Billy of some story or bit of information that he remembered from school (and with minimal smart-assery), so by the end, Bella had more than enough to write a good solid report. By that point, it was getting close to dinnertime, and since Jacob was always hungry, they’d decided just to go out together for dinner to the Lodge.

All in all, her Saturday was completely full—but now she had things to do today, too. There was actually another basketball game on, but the general agreement was that the Swans and the Blacks only got together once every weekend, so Charlie would have his free fishing day. And anyway, Billy apparently had a doctor’s appointment with his specialist in Olympia on Monday and couldn’t eat for 24 hours, so he said there was no point in a big party. But that didn’t mean that Bella had the day off. There was homework, of course, and she had to do the studying she’d promised herself for biology, and then, since she had her interview, she wanted to go down to the Forks Library and do some research.

Bella had forced herself out of bed before nine and gotten dressed and ready, and actually heated her Pop-Tarts rather than just eating them cold on the road like she often did on school days. She made herself a sandwich, which she wrapped up in plastic, and tucked it into the pocket of her backpack along with a banana and a granola bar; she figured that she’d probably be at the library through lunch, and since the weather was dry, she might eat outside in the park that flanked the building. She had just gathered up her notes and stuffed them in her bag when she heard the sound of tires on the gravel.

She looked up, and to her surprise through the front window she saw Charlie getting out of his cruiser and heading up the front steps. Bella had been awakened by his shower as usual this morning, so she knew he’d gone out to the river; what on earth was he doing back?

She came halfway into the living room in time for him to swing open the door, still in his fishing gear, his expression black. He looked surprised to see her there. “Oh—hi, Bella. What are you doing up so early?”

“What are you doing back here so early?” she countered.

Charlie scowled. “I gotta go in to the station,” he grunted. “Got radioed right when I’d hit the river; City Hall’s been vandalized.”

Bella’s eyes widened, taken aback. “What—really?” she asked. “What happened?”

Charlie was already headed up the stairs. “Don’t know the details yet—just know somebody trashed the place,” he said over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the upstairs hall.

Bella just sat down on the couch, figuring she should wait, and she was curious. Charlie was down in short order, suited up as the police chief. “I’ll probably be gone most of the day, but that’s usual on Sundays,” he said without preamble. “I take it you had plans?”

Bella nodded. “Yeah, I was going down to the library for the day—wanted to see if I could churn out some of my history report.”

“Okay,” Charlie answered, and then, “Do you want a ride? I understand if you want to have your own wheels, but I can take you.”

The library and the park were just behind City Hall, easily within walking distance, and Bella thought that would be fine. More to the point, she would get to see what had been vandalized if she went with Charlie, and she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to rubberneck a little. “Sure—that’d be fine,” she said, standing to put on her jacket. “I can call you and let you know when I’m done, as long as you don’t think I’ll hold you up.”

“Doubt it,” he grunted as he started towards the door; Bella scooped up her bag and followed him. “Will be all the paperwork for it, and of course, damage control—the city council will have a field day with this one, City Hall and the police station getting vandalized,” he said grimly. “I’ll probably have to speak at the next council meeting about this.”

The ride to City Hall was quiet, just the occasional burst of chatter on Charlie’s radio; seemed that the cavalry had been called out on this one. Three cop cars were already in the parking lot when they arrived. Charlie pulled into his spot, and didn’t object when Bella scampered up the steps right behind him and followed him into the foyer through the smashed front door.

Her eyes widened. “Trashed the place” was right.

Someone had broken into the building and started smashing everything: the glass trophy case was shattered, the old awards scattered across the floor, all the pictures on the walls torn down and smashed, the flags ripped down from the wall, and even the little fountain in the planter had been pushed over, its pump grinding feebly with all its water dumped out. And if that wasn’t enough, they’d spray painted too, all over the walls and even on the glass windows: artistically rendered swearwords, a clumsy drawing of a hand with the middle finger extended, a crude representation of what could only be male genitalia, and then just random squiggles and lines everywhere else.

Charlie’s expression was thunderous. “Dammit, this town is going in the toilet!” he growled. Then he rubbed his hand over his face. “I gotta get to it, Bella—I’ll see you later today?”

“Yeah, okay, Dad,” she answered. I’ll let you know when I’m done, but don’t rush if I finish first—I can hang out in the library until we can go.”

“Sounds good.” Charlie’s little burst of temper seemed to have already spent itself, and now his voice was just weary. “I’ll take you out for dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” she smiled, but had to stop when she met Mark who was just coming in the back.

“Hey, Bella,” he said. “What do you think of all this?” he asked, his mouth twisted as he gestured at the disaster around them.

“Crazy,” she said, and Mark gave a rueful chuckle and then headed over to where Charlie was talking to Steve Perkins, another deputy. Bella took the opportunity to excuse herself and started picking her way across the glass-strewn floor to the back door that lead out towards the park. Just before she opened the door to leave, she paused.

The big picture of the school had not been spared the wrath of the vandals; its glass was shattered, the frame broken, and long streaks of yellow paint obscured much of the detail. Because of the broken glass, the paint was on the actual photo, she realized in disgust; just a new frame wouldn’t fix this one. Reflexively looking back at Charlie, she saw that he was in deep discussion with Mark, so she squatted down to where it laid for a closer look, brushing away a few shards of glass.

She couldn’t help it. Ever since Friday afternoon in the school library, she’d made a conscious effort to put her increasingly bizarre findings out of her mind. So she leaned down to look at the picture that had first set off her ridiculous search.

As if the world was agreeing with how nonsensical her little mania was, a big splotch of yellow paint had covered the three kids in the bottom corner of the picture. There was no more boy who looked like Edward frozen in 1942.

Bella nodded internally. If that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was. Time to pull her head out and get back to work—in reality.

She straightened up and walked out the door, the broken glass of the picture frame crunching under her feet.

Her resolution lasted all the way to lunchtime.

Oh, she made great inroads on her research in the morning. Filled with drive and purpose, she’d gone in and first actually signed up for a Forks library card, and then settled in to peruse the computer catalogue. The library was not large, but it was surprisingly well-stocked with local history and such, and so after a few trips to Dewey Decimal 300 and 900, she’d found three more solid resources. Those on top of the books she’d bought in PA rounded out the five print sources she was required to have, and now with Billy’s primary source interview, she could use the internet for the rest.

She took notes, made copies of relevant pages, scribbled on her outline, and by noon was ready to call it a day—or at least take a break. The early morning clouds had rolled away, bathing the park in thin but warm sunshine, and Bella was eager to soak some of it up. She went out on the front steps to call Charlie and let him know that she was out, if he was done or if he wanted a break.

He was not done, and while he did want a break, he couldn’t take one. He sounded harried when he picked up his phone; apparently he’d wasted a good hour of his morning dealing with his least-favorite councilman and still hadn’t even finished his report.

“At least it’s not gonna be too expensive,” he’d said tiredly. “I know it looked bad, but most of the damage was superficial. All that paint can be scrubbed off, we can replace the award case, and we’ll just need new frames for most of the pictures, and those that got torn up too bad, the Historical Society can just replace.” He let out a breath. “What’s really got people up in arms is how they managed to get in in the first place; none of our cameras caught ‘em.”

“You’ll get them,” Bella reassured him.

Charlie sighed again. “Well, I won’t if I don’t get the write-up done. I’m sorry I can’t come have lunch with you, but if I just work through lunch, I should finish up here in just a couple more hours, and we can go home.”

“It’s okay, Dad—I brought lunch, and I can work on my report until you’re done.”

“Thanks, Bells. I’ll call you when we can head out.”

That left Bella to go find an empty bench out in the park to eat her sandwich. The sunlight sparkling on the water of the little pond was hypnotic, and Bella was happy to slowly nibble at her lunch and just enjoy the day. A female mallard swam by the bank where she sat, and Bella tossed her bits of one of the crusts from her sandwich.

Still, her lunch didn’t take long to eat, and she didn’t have anything else to feed the ducks, so that left her with nothing to occupy her mind. It was no surprise when she found herself once again mulling over the picture in the police station, and the lack of pictures in the school yearbooks.

What were the odds—seriously? Why on earth was this bugging her so? Maybe it was just the fact that she’d never gotten a good look at any of the faces she’d seen. If she had better pictures, that would make it clear that they were not people she knew, then the random names in the yearbook would quickly turn into nothing but an amusing coincidence, not some kind of outrageous conspiracy or something. Maybe if she had a better copy of the picture from the station, or had gotten a better look at it before it was vandalized…

…Just that Friday, she told Edward about the picture in the station. And then that very weekend it got destroyed.

What were the odds?

Bella stood abruptly, startling the duck that had come wandering up on the bank hoping for more bread and sending her racing back to the water. She brushed off any stray crumbs on her lap, and then strode back to the library.

The building had been fairly empty when she arrived in the morning—the only other occupants were the librarian and a little old lady who was camped out in the romance novel section. The latter was gone now, replaced by a small scattering of new patrons, but the librarian was there, and Bella went right up to her desk. “Do you have any collections of old pictures from the area, historical photos or anything like that?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, yes,” the librarian answered pleasantly (although also in sotto voice, like any good librarian should). “We work with the Forks Historical Society to maintain their photo and document archives here.”

Bella couldn’t believe her luck. The librarian pointed her to one of the library computers and told her about the databases that would have what she wanted, and Bella wasted no time in claiming a machine and settling in to search.

There were the historical photos, but there were also genealogies, old newspapers, obits, marriage records, everything, and all of it digitized and archived. Bella was honestly surprised by how up-to-date the small-town library was.

Of course, unable to help herself, the first thing she did was search for pictures of the school from 1942. And there it was, the same picture that had formerly been hanging in the City Hall foyer. She zoomed in as far as she could go; up close the picture was a bit grainy, but she could still make out the features of the boy in the corner.

It still looked like Edward.

She saved a copy to the flash drive that she carried with her with all her digital schoolwork on it, putting it in a folder that she named “Dumb.” Then, with really no idea where to look, started rifling through pictures from 1942.

She didn’t find anything else; most were shots of buildings and the surrounding areas, or stiff formal poses of groups of men, the local Masonic Lodge or sports teams or the latest crop of enlisted men headed off to war, that sort of thing. And there were a lot of pictures, more than Bella had been expecting, and certainly more than she could reasonably go through in the kind of detail she’d need to find a tiny shot of someone she may or may not recognize, like she had with the picture of the school.

Slightly frustrated and feeling rather stupid, she ran a more general search for the names “Cullen” and “Mason” and even “Hale” and found nothing relevant but recent results: an article in the paper last year quoting Dr. Cullen, a small listing of the high school honor roll, with all five of the Cullen/Hale clan’s names on it. It was only a few minutes after her initial disappointment that she realized the lack of results from before those were actually a bit odd—didn’t Edward say that his family had used to live here?

Bella frowned. That didn’t mean anything. They could have moved away, or moved into the town later, or may not even have had the same last name at that point. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she logged off the computer and wandered off, at a dead end. She had the picture, she supposed—she should just show it to Edward and they’d have a laugh at it. Probably if she had it right up next to him, it’d look nothing like him. Just some guy who used to go to the school.

She stopped in her tracks and hurried up to the library desk again. “Sorry,” she said, “but do you have copies of the Forks High yearbooks?”

They did; she was directed to a shelf on the north wall that had all the same books as the school library, and she pulled out 1942. Her anonymous friends Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie were there—under the last names Clark and Williams. Quickly tucking the book back in its place—bad form, she knew, but she put it right back where it had come from—she trotted back over to the computer.

A quick search for those names revealed just a few small articles from the newspaper, very similar to the ones she’d seen before listing the names of the students who had made the honor roll each term, and all three of them were on it spanning the years of 1939-1943. There was nothing else, and Bella bit her lip and stared at the screen before just running a search on the name “Williams.”

A lot more hits came back, which didn’t surprise her, not with a name that was that generic. She scanned through them, sorting by year: pictures of sports teams, a few articles about some local councilman’s plans for improvements to the town, a marriage record or two, an article about a logging accident—

—which included a quote from the doctor who had treated the injured men.

Dr. Carlisle Williams.

Bella eagerly devoured the article, but there was nothing else. Just that name. Carlisle Williams the doctor.

And his children Edward and Rosalie.

Okay, stop. Bella shook herself. There was absolutely no evidence that those three were in any way connected. She’d said it herself—Williams was not exactly a unique last name. As if to prove it, she ran a search on the equally generic “Clark,” and the four hits she received didn’t yield anything familiar.

Almost unwillingly, she clicked the back arrow to return her to her “Williams” search. There were the honor rolls, and the article about Carlisle Williams, the local doctor. She tried searching for that full name and nothing else came up, so she just went back and stared at the article. There was no information about the man, just a statement that the men who survived the accident—apparently a truck hauling logs had snapped a chain, sending the logs rolling off to crush the bystanders—were very lucky and would be making nearly full recoveries.

She scrolled down, going back through all the other hits, one by one, and much slower now. She was almost to the very last hit when she found it.

It wasn’t a quote, more just a footnote, really. It was a little write-up in a Sunday circular from the local Lutheran church. There was a piece about the Ladies Aid, asking for donations for the war effort, and talking about the various charitable activities the church ladies had organized, food and clothing drives, spearheading rationing efforts, encouraging people to plant gardens and buy war bonds—all the usual World War II patriotism. The article was about some sort of recycling event where they had asked for materials to be saved and donated for the war efforts, everything from copper and brass to tinfoil to even grease drippings from cooking. The text was headed by a picture, not a posed affair, but apparently one that somebody snapped during one of their events.

It featured a small, compact woman, her dark hair pulled away from her heart-shaped face in a neat snood. She stood in the center of the activity and seemed to be directing the scrap deliveries around her, pointing one of the frozen figures where to go; even through the years Bella could see her sharp eyes and the determined set of her full mouth. The caption beneath it read, “Mrs. Esme Williams, wife of our own Doctor Williams, leads the Ladies Aid Scrap Drive for the War.”

Bella sat back in her chair and stared.

…This was insane.

Chapter Text

It was still insane on Monday.

But Bella could say that she was at least equally insane now. She had saved copies of all the files she’d found at the library the day before, and now here she was, sitting at her lab bench at the end of biology, with the very corner of a printed copy of the old picture of the school poking out of her folder just enough so she could see the boy in it while she surreptitiously peered at Edward’s profile to see if they matched.

She jumped when he suddenly turned towards her, which made him jump too, and for a minute they just sat there, both of them with spooked looks on their faces, before Edward offered her a tentative smile. Bella’s return smile felt all wrong on her face as she hastily crammed her picture back in her folder.

She was torn between embarrassment at her own outrageous obsession, ridiculous apprehension that he would catch her at it, and…something else. Some impossible idea that he was…something. Someone. She didn’t know.

“Um…did you have a good weekend?” he asked tentatively. “You—did you watch basketball?” At Bella’s blank look, he faltered, but added, “You—you said that you and your dad watch—with your friends on weekends.”

“Oh—yeah, we did,” she answered, her voice a bit stiff. “I cook more than watch. But yes. We did. Watch, I mean.”

“That’s fun,” he said. “Emmett made us all fill out our brackets—he does every year.”

Bella made a non-committal noise and concentrated on putting her things away. Jacob had done much the same at their house, and her own March Madness bracket had already been wrong for the majority of the first round.

Edward was looking at her with a furrowed brow, and she realized that she was acting more or less like Edward himself frequently did with her, all halting and weird and antisocial—and for no good reason, either. Belatedly, she tried to give him a more genuine smile. “I can never pick the teams—I don’t know anything about any of them. I just end up picking them based on their uniform color or something,” she admitted.

He smiled at that, his forehead smoothing out. “I’m not very good either,” he said. “Alice is—but she never shows us her picks until they’ve played.”

There wasn’t much else to say to that, but for once Edward seemed determined to draw her into conversation today, and exactly when she really was not up to it. She was weirdly reminded of the next time he’d been at school after that first freak-out of his. Then she’d been convinced he was a meth addict. Now she was convinced of something that was a lot more ill-defined—and unrealistic, for that matter.

“Did—did you do anything else this weekend?” Edward asked after a moment, his voice almost coaxing.

“Just worked on my history report,” she said.

Edward’s forehead was wrinkling again—if she didn’t know any better, she’d think he looked almost hurt by her terse replies. The thought made her insides twist in an odd way, and before she’d even realized what she was doing, she turned to face him. “Did you know that the police station got vandalized this weekend?” she asked abruptly.

Edward froze. He just sat there, staring at her with his mouth open, but she didn’t look away, until he finally snapped his mouth shut. “No,” he said slowly. “I hadn’t heard.”

“I was up at the library—right by City Hall,” she said. “My dad dropped me off, but I got to see everything. Perks of being the police chief’s daughter,” she said, laughing a little to make it into a joke, already regretting whatever ridiculous impulse she’d had to even mention it in the first place. What on earth was she trying to accomplish?

Edward was looking at his bag, tugging at a frayed edge as he so was so prone to do. “I hope there wasn’t too much damage,” he said.

Bella shook her head, swinging her own bag up onto one arm. “Just smashed things up and spray-painted a little. Really looked worse than it was. I was just reminded since that picture I mentioned to you—the one with the guy in it that looked like you—got ruined.”

Edward’s back was stiff and straight, and he was just staring at his bag. “Too bad—I’d have liked to have seen it,” he said, his voice even.

Bella had a mad urge to whip her own copy out right now, but refrained. “Oh, it’ll be okay, I think,” she said lightly. “The Forks Historical Society donated the pictures, Charlie said, so I’m sure they have a copy somewhere and will get a new one for the city.”

She peeped over at Edward out of the corner of her eye; his face was smooth and blank, but she saw his Adam’s apple bob. He licked his lips, and then slowly turned in his seat to face her, and he looked about to speak—but then the bell rang, startling them both. He snapped his mouth shut, looked at her a moment longer, and then with a tight smile and a hastily muttered, “Goodbye,” he quickly slid out of his seat and swept from the room.

The next day did not help her…delusions, or whatever they were. Because the next day, she kept spotting Cullens in the hallway. It was hard not to notice them—pale and hollow-eyed, with their angular faces and creepy stares, and the way the press of their eyes made her skin crawl. But that was the point—she was noticing them. She could feel them pass her in the hallways, so if she hadn’t noticed them before, then they weren’t there. But now they were. They weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary—Rosalie didn’t seem to notice her, Emmett grinned at her, and Alice waved and chirped a hello, but they were still just there.

And then in biology, there was Edward—back to sitting ramrod straight, looking out the window, and not talking to her.

What made this whole…thing all the more stupid was that it was nothing. Here she was, obsessing over the impossible, and with nothing more than a handful of the flimsiest excuse for evidence that she’d ever seen in her life.

Didn’t stop her from obsessing over it, though. That’s why after gym she went into the library to make a few copies from the old yearbooks from the Forties. Just to complete her collection.

Then I can pin all the pictures up on my wall in an elaborate collage all crisscrossed with a bunch of string, fill up a couple of composition books with a bunch of violent writing and bad freeform poetry, and get a dead possum to keep in my locker, so the press will have something to take pictures of when I’m arrested after my dog tells me to shoot the president, she thought grimly to herself as she took her stacks of books to the copier.

The books were still slightly creased from where she’d looked at them last week, so she nearly opened them right up to the correct pages. She looked down at the blank boxes with their strange-yet-familiar names, pressing her hands across the pages to flatten them, and then slipped them under the copier lid.

The library was quiet except for the sounds of the copier, but even then she heard nothing behind her; her only warning was the sudden prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck.

Bella whirled around where she stood, her heart leaping up into her throat.

Jasper Hale looked calmly back at her, his arms full of books as he waited patiently for her to finish with the copier.

“You scared me to death!” she blurted, willing her breathing to slow down and her cheeks to cool.

His lips curved into a thin, polite smile. “My apologies,” he said, his voice soft and low.

Bella swallowed, said, “It’s okay,” and then turned around to slide the next yearbook into the machine, trying her best to look relaxed and absorbed in her task as she opened the books to the right pages and set them face down on the table next to her, so she could finish her copies and get out of there.

Despite trying her best to look busy, she was still hyper-aware of the handsome but creepy boy standing a little to the side, so when he shifted a little, she reflexively looked up. He gave her another one of those small, empty smiles that didn’t reach his weirdly orangey eyes—just like Edward’s and Alice's, she noticed—and spoke. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said. “I’m Jasper Hale.”

He didn’t offer a handshake, to Bella’s relief, but the recollection of her surprise when finding that he had a different last name from Edward when reading the honor rolls managed to get her tongue working again. “Um, not Cullen? Are, uh, you and Rosalie really related?” she asked.

Jasper inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Yes—Rosalie and kept our last name. We're fraternal twins.”

“Oh.” Then, remembering her manners, Bella said, “Bella Swan—nice to meet you.”

There was another quirk of his bloodless lips, although this time it seemed slightly more genuine. “Alice has mentioned you,” he said. “And Edward.”

“Oh,” she said again, no idea what to say to that. Thankfully, it was time to switch out yearbooks, which she quickly did. It was the last one, but she needed an extra copy from it—it was the one with the picture of Not-Emmett at the football game.

Just because Bella didn’t like to make small talk didn’t mean that she didn’t know how to do it—she’d spent most of her life with Renée, after all. But now, she found that she’d completely lost any and all skill she might have had as she stood there under the weight of Jasper’s gaze. So she just tried to be quick about finishing her business and getting out of there.

She was glad that the copies came out face-down, although she would be hard-pressed to admit that it was because she didn’t want Jasper seeing them and what she was doing getting back to Edward. Even though Jasper wasn’t on her list, or whatever it was—he didn’t have any mysterious twin lurking in the town’s past.

Bella scooped up her papers and tucked them quickly into her folder before gathering up the yearbooks.

“History project?”

She jumped again at the voice behind her, and her face went horribly hot yet again, although this time it was less because there was a handsome but creepy boy standing so close and more because she’d been caught. She turned quickly, clutching the yearbooks to her chest.

Jasper flicked his eyes to them before looking back up at her face. “Edward and Alice have been working on theirs as well,” he said, reaching up to carelessly brush a blonde curl away from his forehead, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her.

Bella smiled nervously. “Yeah—just some history stuff,” she agreed. She pointed at the copy machine with her chin. “All yours.”

Jasper’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, but then he just gave her another one of those barely perceptible nods, but that was enough for her, and she fled.

All right—enough was enough. Bella had two mid-terms coming up, and the first one was tomorrow. Not that she was terribly worried; it was just biology. She’d been breezing through that class for the entire nine weeks. One night of studying beforehand would be fine, and even if she didn’t do all that great, she still had a high A in the class already; she’d have to make a D on the exam to even drop her term grade down to a B.

Still, no excuse not to study. Only problem was that with her latest, stupid obsession, if she was anywhere near her internet at home, she’d probably get nothing done. That being the case, she decided to stay late after school for an hour or two and make use of the library.

There were already a few students there doing the same when she arrived Wednesday afternoon. They were scattered across the tables, some singly and some in groups, but there were still a few free places. All the good spots in the back and near the walls were taken, though, so she had to make do with a table out in the middle of the room.

Bella swung her bag off of her shoulders and into a chair with as little noise as she could manage, and then settled into her own seat to get out her Biology textbook and her review notes. See, that was another reason to stay at school and not go home where she could be distracted: she already knew all this stuff and studying it over again was going to be a real pain in the butt. Oh, well. She was just going to have to knuckle down and do it—tomorrow, it’d be over, and then she’d just have Spanish left and then spring break.

School let out at three; Bella had decided to spend at least an hour going over everything, maybe a bit longer, but definitely had to call it quits before five so she could get home and start dinner. The time passed fairly quickly, once she made herself stop looking up at the clock. Actually, it was Edward Cullen who did that. Not long after she started, he came into the library and settled in at a table across the room—and right under the clock. She’d looked up without meaning to when he came in and had gotten a tight smile for her troubles, which she barely managed to return before hurriedly looking back down at her notes. She didn’t have quite so much trouble keeping her eyes off the clock after that.

Around four-thirty, she’d pretty much gone over everything at least once. On the one hand, it was annoying how simplistic regular biology was compared to her old AP class, but on the other, studying was a lot easier. She figured she’d go over it again tonight and glance at her notes during the day tomorrow and call it good. She gathered up her books and papers and packed up. To her relief, Edward seemed to have vanished at some point when she was Not Looking at him, so she didn’t have to pass him on her way out.

She’d already hit her locker after gym, so she left directly from the library. The drizzle that had been off and on all day was thankfully in one of its off periods, so Bella enjoyed the walk outside to her truck. The air was still damp and the sky gray, of course, but at least she wasn’t getting wet.

When she reached her truck, she unlocked the driver’s side door; it swung open with its usual groan of protest, and she flung her bag in the cab and slid in after it, yanking the heavy door closed again with a thunk. Burgers and oven fries were on the menu tonight, which were quick and easy, so Bella would have plenty of time to go back over her notes again after dinner. She jammed her key in the ignition and turned it over, ready for the sound of her truck roaring to life—

—and nothing.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Bella cranked the key again, only to be met with the ominous grinding but no ignition. A quick check of her dash showed that she hadn’t left her lights on and run her battery down, nothing looked out of place. Her frustration mounting, she turned the key again with the same results, and with a snarl yanked her key out and flung open the door.

The hood weighed a ton, just like everything else on her truck, but she unlatched it and propped it up and looked under the hood. Her battery was brand new—there was no reason it’d be dead already. She was only minimally car-savvy, but what she did know looked fine. Then again, the guts of the truck were a bizarre mish-mash of old and new parts, whatever Jacob had scrounged up to keep it running in the first place. God only knew what was in there.

She peered down to make sure that her sparkplugs were all there, and they were, and all were new and shiny, so they hadn’t gone bad, either—and that pretty much exhausted her car knowledge.

“Shit,” she mouthed quietly to herself. Of all the stupid, annoying things—now she couldn’t get home, she would have to call Charlie—and then how was she going to get to school tomorrow, either? And then get home?

Muttering all sorts of vile deprecations to the world in general, she let the hood fall with a clunk that echoed across the deserted parking lot. If she’d just gone out to go home when school let out, then she might have been able to bum a jump or even a ride off of someone—but no, she had to stay and be responsible, and this is what she got out of it. She seriously considered aiming a kick at the front tire. But that wouldn’t do anything, so she just sighed tiredly and made her way around to the cab to wrestle her cell phone out of her bag and call her dad and tell him she was stuck at school.

“Car trouble?”

Bella yelped, her phone flying out of her hand and skittering down to bounce off of the running board and clatter on the pavement as she whirled around.

Edward was standing there, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands.

Bella pressed her fingers over her thumping heart. “No, it—it’s okay,” she said, only panting slightly as she willed herself to calm down. “You just startled me.”

Her phone had thankfully not skated under her truck; she squatted down to pick it up where it had come to rest by the front wheel. It was just her old pay-as-you-go phone, and while it was solid and already had its share of battle scars, it probably wasn’t good for it to be tossed around. This latest fall had clearly given it one or two new scuffs on its plastic case, but a glance at the screen told her that it hadn’t suffered any brain damage.

Wiping off the stray flecks of grit and water on her phone, she tried to give Edward a smile, despite her general unease and her very particular frustration. “Yeah—it won’t start,” she said. “I don’t suppose you have any jumper cables?”

Edward shook his head regretfully. “Would you like a ride home?”

Bella paused, a prickling feeling crawling up her back. Yeah she’d thought she might have been able to bum a ride off of someone, but the prospect of actually getting a ride from someone made her uncomfortable…and then to have the offer come from Connor MacLeod, or whoever he was…

“Where are the rest of you guys?” she asked, stalling slightly.

Edward smiled slightly. “Since I wanted to stay and study today, Emmett drove his Jeep in—it’s just me left,” he said, pointing to the familiar silver SUV across the way.

“Well…lemme call my dad,” she said slowly. “Just to let him know what happened.”

Edward nodded politely and retreated a little to the side.

Bella dialed Charlie’s cell and waited while it rang, looking at Edward out of the corner of her eye while he peered through her truck window at the dashboard. It still wasn’t raining out—a few weak bars of sunlight were actually peeping through the clouds now and again—but Edward had his hood up anyway, the edge dangling low around his eyebrows, and his hands were stuffed deeply in his pockets.

“Bella?”

She turned away from her surreptitious inspection at the sound of her dad answering his phone. “Hi, Dad,” she said.

“Anything wrong?” The tone of her voice had obviously tipped him off.

“Yeah,” she said glumly. “I’m still here at school; my truck won’t start. But I have a ride home,” she said quickly over Charlie’s initial exclamation of dismay. “But I wanted to let you know—um, will we need to get it towed?”

Charlie grunted in her ear. “Yeah, probably—I can get the boys down from the city lot to get it and tow it home, and I’ll call Billy up tonight—he said he and Jacob would keep up with little things for us. I hope it’s just something little, anyway,” he finished.

“Yeah, me too.”

There was a brief silence, and then Charlie asked, “So you’re sure you’re okay, though? One of your friends can give you a ride, even though it’s late?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, Dad,” she said, feeling oddly reticent to tell him just which “friend” from school it was. “Midterms are at the end of the week, remember—there are lots of people staying late to study.”

“Well, okay, then—I’ll call Jimmy and get him to take his truck to pick yours up tomorrow and have it dropped off at the house until we can figure out what’s wrong,” Charlie said. “I’ve got maybe another forty-five minutes of work here; I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay—I’ll see you then, Dad,” Bella answered, and then lowered her phone to end the call.

She stared at its face for longer than necessary, until she heard Edward ask, “Well, shall we?”

Bella looked up into his pale eyes and wetted her lip. “Uh, yeah, okay—you’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”

He shook his head with a smile. “It’s not like Forks is a big town. I mean, it’s not very far no matter which direction you go.” He scuffed the ground with one shoe. “And, um, it—it wouldn’t be a bother for—for you, anyway.”

Bella cursed her fair complexion as she felt her cheeks getting stupidly warm. She decided the best option was to bluster through her embarrassment by saying, “Well, lemme get my bag, and then we can go.”

She busied herself with getting her backpack and her umbrella and locking up her car behind her, and when she shut the door she found Edward watching her attentively. “Can I, um, carry that for you?”

Bella gave him a look. “No, it’s fine, I got it,” she said, only slightly dry. But then at Edward’s slightly discomfited expression, she said, “But thank you for the ride—really,” she added, peering up under his hood. “I’d hate to be stuck here.”

Edward’s answering smile looked slightly strained. “This way,” he gestured, and waited for her to start walking before falling into step beside her.

It seemed that any silence between the two of them was doomed to be uncomfortable. Bella was at turns either burningly aware of the bizarre photographs and news articles that were bunched up in the back of her folder full of crazy in her backpack, or idiotically self-conscious as she remembered Jessica and Angela’s comments from their trip to PA. And Edward was no help, of course, just being his usual silent self and technically walking next to her but at an awkwardly long distance away. It was a relief when they reached Edward’s car, the large, sleek silver Volvo SUV that was parked on the north side of the parking lot.

“Why’d they leave just you by yourself with the bigger car?” Bella asked as they both swung around to the passenger side.

Edward made a small noise that was half-amused and half-annoyed. “Emmett hates this car,” he said, reaching over to open Bella’s door for her. “He calls it a soccer-mom suburban assault vehicle and says that it, uh, ‘ruins his street cred’.”

Bella snorted at Edward’s dry (and incredibly white) delivery as she chucked her things on the floor before clambering up into the car. Edward shut her door behind her before circling around to the driver’s side.

The interior was all smooth leather and digital readouts; her truck looked even more ancient in comparison. It was strangely sterile inside, though—there were no crumbs on the floors or remnants of spilled drinks sticking to the cup holders, no napkins sticking out of the console and no personal touches like seat covers or fuzzy dice. Bella in some ways thought she rather preferred the rough canvas and slightly musty smell of her truck cab, with the battered old plastic Rosary that had previously lived in Renée’s car when they had had their accident (and had since been her good luck charm) dangling from her rearview mirror and the little ladybug stickers she’d put marching around her rear window.

She looked up at the sound of the door opening to see Edward reaching in to start the car without actually getting in. He studiously avoided her eyes as the car purred quietly to life and he fiddled with the controls on the door while standing outside. Bemused, she watched him lower the driver’s side window before slowly easing into the car, perching gingerly on one corner of his seat. Edward leaned way out as though looking for something, before slamming his door shut and assuming the same awkward position she remembered him having in PA, huddled against the door with his head half-out the car window.

It really did look terribly uncomfortable, but Bella didn’t say anything.

“So,” he said, and Bella barely managed not to laugh when he had to stop and swallow as his voice cracked outrageously, “you live on Evergreen?” he finished with stiff dignity.

“Yep,” she said.

That was all she said, too. There they were, lapsed right back into an awkward silence as he eased out of his parking space and headed toward the lot exit. It was frustrating, really, that they could have pleasant enough conversations when Edward wasn’t being weird, but when he was, well, there really wasn’t anything either of them could do about it. And doubly so when she knew she was being weird too. When they were stuck in one of these uncomfortable moments, both their opening conversational gambits left something to be desired. Case in point:

“Do you like music?” Edward asked, peeling off his hood and trying rather futilely to straighten his hair.

“Most people do,” Bella said without thinking, watching the way he tilted his head under his hand just like the boy in the picture.

Edward’s cheeks darkened a little and he cleared his throat. “What I—I meant, would you like to listen to some.”

Bella gave him a bland smile. “Driver gets fifty-one percent of the vote,” she told him, “but anyway, I do like music, so if you want to listen to some, that’s cool.”

Edward started fiddling with the radio, having to reach his arm way out to get to the knobs without moving from where he was bunched up against the door. Bella jumped a little when Linkin Park suddenly came blaring from the speakers, and Edward grimaced while he frantically cranked the volume knob down and changed the disc. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Emmett.”

She didn’t really know Emmett, but that seemed to be all the explanation Edward felt it needed. He eventually seemed to settle on something on the radio. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him—stoner music or something jazzy from the 30s?—but all that came out of the speakers this time was some innocuous Classical piano.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Bella nodded. “I like piano—had lessons when I was little,” she added, just trying to fill the stilted silence between them as she had in the past.

“Oh?” Edward asked, perking up. “You play?”

“Eh, not really,” she admitted. “I mean, I sorta did, but it wasn’t ever like I was really good. I started lessons a bit too late to get good, I think—and I hate cutting my nails short,” she added with a laugh, holding out her hands; her long, oval, and naturally white-tipped nails were one of her few vanities. “I clicked when I played,” she told him, wiggling her fingers.

Edward laughed at that; his expression always seemed to be vaguely surprised when he did, like he hadn’t been expecting to. Smiling back at him, feeling slightly encouraged by the lessened tension in the car, Bella went on. “I had a few recitals in grade school, nothing big, and if you give me enough time with a piece of music that isn’t too challenging, I’ll generally manage to learn to play it, but I was never really much of a musician,” she shrugged. “But I still do like to listen to it—and I love to watch someone else play.”

Edward was smiling at her, his expression warm, and Bella felt her cheeks heating a little. “I play,” he offered.

“Oh?” she asked. “Any good?”

Edward looked back at the road; the brief burst of sunlight earlier was short-lived, and Edward flicked on his wipers as it started to drizzle again. “Well, I—I like to think I’m pretty good,” he said diffidently. “I’ve been playing since I was five.” He licked his lips, flicking his eyes over to her. “My mother first taught me.”

“What, your—not Nurse Cullen?” Bella asked, surprised.

Edward shook his head, his eyes fixed out the windshield. “My real mother. She played too.”

Bella didn’t quite know what to say—should she say she was sorry that he lost his mother, since he’d clearly been old enough to remember it, not just a baby like she’d assumed? Shifting a little, she figured she could offer up with her own family story. “Well, nobody in my family taught me, but my great-grandmother was apparently really good. My Granny Marie still had her old beat-up upright piano, and I’d always bang on it when I was at her house. I think that’s why I’ve always liked it, and probably why I wanted lessons.”

“Did she live here?” Edward asked. “In Forks—your grandmother, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bella answered.

“And her mother?” he asked before she could say anything else.

“Uh, no,” she said. “My grandmother moved here from Oregon when she got married.”

“So none of your family is from here,” he said.

“Well, no,” she said slowly. “The Swans have lived around here for a while.”

“My family has been here for generations,” Edward announced abruptly.

Bella stared at him.

“The Cullens, I mean,” Edward was going on forcefully. “The Masons—my father’s family—weren’t, and Carlisle left, but he brought all of us back here when he adopted us. Back to the family lands, really, since we’re cousins. The house we’re in now was built in the Forties by our great-grandfather.”

He faltered in his sudden lecture when he spotted what must have been a faintly incredulous look on her face, and his cheeks darkened and he hunched a little in his seat.

“Um…cool,” Bella said after a moment of strained silence, at a complete loss at what else she was supposed to say.

“We…we’re kind of an old family,” Edward said lamely. “Been here a while, all named after each other, you know.”

“I thought you guys were all adopted.”

“We are!” he said hastily. “I’m mean, yeah, but—but a lot of us are still, uh, you know, related in some way. That’s why Carlisle and Esme can have so many kids at once, even though they’re, uh, kind of young.”

Bella made a vague noise, which Edward took as a cue to continue, almost eagerly. “Jasper and Rosalie are my cousins too, like Carlisle. We all have, uh, old family names and everything.”

“Oh. Uh, mine is just a name my mom liked. And my middle name for my grandmother, obviously. But you’re named after somebody, then?” Bella asked, trying to be polite but with no idea where he was going with this bizarre bout of chatter.

Edward nodded rapidly. “Yeah—named after my grandfather Edward. Carlisle always said it was appropriate, since I looked just like him.”

And suddenly Bella’s brain clicked.

“And…and your grandfather lived here, too?” she asked slowly.

“Yes,” said Edward, sounding almost cheerful. “And his wife was named Rosalie—I always felt kind of uncomfortable thinking about that with my sister Rose.” His sudden smile was blinding, bright and fixed. “The Cullens were in lumber, though, so we’ve been here for a while.”

He’s lying.

His abrupt subject changes, his forceful words, his sudden desire to spill his family history, they were all clues—but none of that mattered because Bella knew he was lying.

Because she knew that there weren’t any Cullens anywhere in the town’s history.

And hot on the heels of that realization came another: he wasn’t just babbling randomly. He was trying to convince her.

Which meant he knew.

Bella swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, her pulse growing louder in her ears.

He knew. He knew he knew he knew. But how did he know? What did he know? Did he know that she thought she was going crazy? Did he know that she’d been obsessed with a couple of grainy pictures and a few people in the Forties who had the same names as people she knew now? Why on earth would he care?

Why on earth would he lie?

As they took the next turn into Bella’s neighborhood, she became aware that she’d fallen silent and that Edward was looking at her with some concern and, she fancied, a faint flicker of alarm.

Why? Why would you care? Why would you be alarmed?

Why do you want me to believe you?

“What—don’t you believe me?”

His sudden, almost accusing words that so clearly mirrored her thoughts made her jump where she sat. “I never said I didn’t,” she said at once, defensive.

His eyebrows had pulled in low, his pretty mouth set in a hard line, and the intensity of his gaze gave Bella that familiar urge to shrink away. But she refused this time, meeting his glare as best she could. “I was just trying to be friendly,” he said.

Her eyebrows shot up. “By telling me that I don’t believe you?”

“No!” His eyes had widened in surprise as he hastily backpedaled. “Not that—just sharing some family history. You didn’t have to—to look at me like you think I’m crazy.”

I do think you’re crazy. “You’re imagining things,” she said coldly, although she wasn’t quite sure who was she was speaking to. “And my house is right here on the left.”

Edward’s face was pinched and tight as he slowed to take the turn, the hiss of wet pavement giving way to the crunch of Charlie’s gravel driveway. He pulled just in past the culvert, putting the car in park as Bella quickly gathered up her bag from where it was sitting at her feet, stuffing her furled umbrella inside before swinging it up on her shoulder.

“I’m not lying,” Edward said abruptly, making Bella pause with her hand on the door handle. His voice was still sullen, but his expression was intent and made her insides squirm. “And I’m not crazy.”

Oh, yes you are. Bella’s chin went up, and with every memory of every time he acted like an utter wacko at the forefront of her mind, all of his leering and drooling and staring out the window, she informed him, “Well you sure act like it.” And with that, she yanked the door open and swept out of the car.

And immediately planted her foot wrong and fell flat on her face.

She managed to catch herself on her hands enough that she didn’t get a mouthful of gravel, but she landed hard on her front, rattling her teeth and soaking herself through on the wet ground. Her palms were burning where the rocks of the driveway had bitten into them, but not as hot as her cheeks, and she doubted that the pain of her fall was anything close to the rush of mortification that slammed into her once she realized what had just happened.

Grimly, she pushed herself to her knees, her face flaming even hotter when she heard Edward speak behind her, his voice full of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she grunted, unable to bring herself to look at him in her humiliation. Kind of undercut my grand, trampling exit there, didn’t I, she thought darkly, and then hissed when she raised up on her knees. She could feel that she had the usual latticework of nicks and cuts on her hands that she usually did from falling like that, but her left hand hurt a lot worse, with a sharp stabbing pain, and she turned it over and sucked in a breath at the sight of the large shard of brown glass sticking grotesquely out from the meat of her hand.

Oh, great—some jackass had to go and throw a beer bottle in the driveway, and she would just land on it. Who the hell litters on the police chief’s lawn?! she snarled internally, trying to stave off her natural, awful, gut-clenching reaction to the broken bottle shard in her hand. She felt her stomach knotting up just looking at it, the filthy hunk of glass that was crawling with who knew what, jutting out of her lacerated flesh like that. The edges of the wound were already weeping blood, and oh God, she was gonna be sick. The only thing worse would be leaving it in there—she needed it out now. Gritting her teeth, her breath starting to whistle through her nose, she just grabbed it and yanked it out, a tiny noise of pain escaping her as blood welled up, sudden and quick from the deep gash it left behind, a thick red trail running down toward her wrist, and nausea swooped heavy in her stomach—

THUMP!

The breath was driven from her as she was slammed down on her face by the huge weight on her back, a yelp of shocked surprise escaping her as her cheek ground painfully into the gravel, and she tried to push herself up, but then a hand had seized her wrist and was yanking backwards, and she cried out as she was suddenly flipped over on her back and icy fingers gripped her throat and—

TEETH!

It was Edward but it wasn’t, couldn’t be, because he had teeth, long white dripping teeth, hanging out over his lips, and his face was stretched into a horrible rictus and his eyes were demonic holes in his face, just like that day, that first day, and his fingers were in her hair and yanking her head to the side and his other hand was tightening around her throat as he lunged and God somebody help me Daddy his TEETH!

Then there was a sudden flash of light, arcing over them, and the thing with Edward’s face jerked his head up, a feral snarl escaping his twisted lips at the passing car, but then it was gone, and as he snapped back to her, Bella felt a scream welling up, but it was stuck in her throat, too terrified to even voice her fear as he mantled over her, his thighs tight around her and his hands like manacles as he licked his lips and leaned down towards her throat with his teeth—

—and then somewhere from his coat came a tinny, cheerful little tune—a phone.

Edward blinked.

Something seemed to snap behind his eyes, and he froze, the hand around her neck trembling, starting down at her, his face right by hers, his mouth inches from her neck, his eyes boring into hers, his tangy, metallic breath ghosting over her cheek as the phone in his pocket merrily played its tinkling little tune.

And then horror flooded his eyes and he threw himself away from her, scrabbling backwards on the gravel, his mouth working as if trying to speak but nothing came out, and before Bella could even move, he leapt, twisting midair like a cat as he threw himself into the car, the door slamming behind him as it roared out of the driveway, the tires spraying gravel all over her as he sped off into the night.

It was silent, eerily so. No more than a few seconds could have passed, and for just a moment more Bella was frozen, her brain trying to catch up, because it was too much, too much, his eyes and his face and his teeth—

And then she broke.

A shrieky sound escaped her as she lurched to her feet; she didn’t have any breath for anything else, and Bella scrambled towards the door, harsh, breathless sobs wrenching from her throat, her bag thumping against her back as she staggered up the front steps. She fumbled desperately for her keys, whimpering in fear and panic as her shaking hands slowed her down, she couldn’t get the key in the door, and blood was smearing all over her keys and the doorknob but finally it was open and the threw herself inside, slamming it shut behind her and locking every lock it had, her bag falling heedlessly from her arm as she pressed herself against it, but it wouldn’t stop him, how could it, he’d thrown her around like a ragdoll out there, and she ran, across the room to the fireplace where she snatched Charlie’s old crucifix off the wall and then charged up the stairs, but she couldn’t go to her room, there was a window there, there were windows everywhere, he could get in anywhere, and she all but fell into the tiny bathroom with its mercifully solid walls and locked the door behind her and pitched herself into the tub, pulling the curtain closed, clutching at the crucifix like a drowning man to a straw, cowering there in the dark please God don’t let him find me.

And it was only there, bleeding, terrified, huddled in the shower and quaking with fear, that Bella finally allowed herself to think it, to give the explanation that was too insane to be believed, to say the only word that made sense—to name Edward Cullen for what he was:

Vampire.

Chapter Text

Bella didn’t know how long she sat there, curled in a ball, panting, shaking, her mind running in panicked, desperate circles.

Vampire, vampire, vampire—

Was he coming back? Was he going to come after her? Could he get in?

Vampire, vampire, vampire—

But there was no way. That was crazy. That didn’t happen. They weren’t real.

But his eyes and his hands and his teeth—

She was seeing things. She was obsessed. She was having a breakdown.

VAMPIRE—

She was snapped out of her frantic mental yammering by the sudden, sharp sound of the front door trying to open and slamming hard against the fastened chain, and terror clawed up into her throat, freezing her in place, oh, God, he came back, he was trying to get in—

“Bella?!”

Charlie’s voice, sharp and loud, pierced her panic, sending a flood of instinctive relief through her, that someone else was here, that her daddy was here, she wasn’t alone, it wasn’t him—

“Bella! Bella, are you in there?!”

She registered the alarm in his voice just as she managed to snap out of her frozen panic and fly out of the tub, nearly braining herself on the sink as she stumbled over the tub edge, saved from falling only by getting tangled in the shower curtain.

“Daddy!”

She barreled down the stairs as the door jarred sharply against the fastened chain again. “Bella!” Charlie thundered. “Are you all right?!”

“I’m here!” She flew against the door, desperate to see her daddy, to see he was there, that she wasn’t alone, that she was safe—

“Bella, what’s going on?! There’s blood all over the door—what happened—”

Charlie had the presence of mind to pull the door slightly to, so Bella could struggle to undo the chain with her shaking hands, distantly realizing that there was in fact blood all over the door, and her hand too, dried and crusted.

The minute the door was unlatched Charlie opened it as hard and quickly as he could without slamming into Bella, and she threw herself at him. “Daddy!”

He grabbed her when she flew into him, his hands tight on her shoulders, and held her for half a moment before firmly pulling her back, first to look her over and then hold her still and look her in the eye. “Bella—what happened?!”

…And she could only stare at him, her mouth open, her breath whistling as the words crowded up her throat, but how could she tell him—what could she say?

“I—I—it—”

Charlie’s face was twisting, before he smoothed it out into his firm police chief expression. “Bella—you calm down and breathe, do you hear me?”

She nodded, raising her hands to clutch at his arms—and then hissing at the sudden sharp pain that lanced through her palm. Charlie saw it, saw the blood all over her hand, and seized her wrist. Turning her hand palm-up, Bella noticed with a strange sort of detachment that there was a deep, crusted gash on her hand, still oozing, and there was a sudden disjointed memory, oh, yeah, she cut her hand and she bled—

—her blood—and his teeth—

And Charlie suddenly caught her as she swayed on her feet, her vision darkening. “Bella!”

Bella shook herself, flailing around with her uninjured hand until she found Charlie’s arm and managed to squeeze it in a shaking grip. “No—I’m—I’m okay, I—”

Charlie wrapped his arm tight around her and guided her over to the sofa. “Come on, Bells, you sit down.” She flopped down on the cushion, and didn’t resist when Charlie gripped the back of her neck and directed her to lean forward over her knees. “Breathe, baby,” he said, his voice even and controlled.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, in and out, but behind her eyelids played a reel of hands and eyes and teeth, so they popped open again, and she stared at the pattern on the living room rug until she stopped feeling so lightheaded and tried to sit up. Charlie helped her, and then he cupped her sliced hand in one of his and said, “Now—Bella—are you all right?”

Was she all right?! She’d almost been eaten, of course she wasn’t all right! But she couldn’t say that—could hardly even think it—but some dim part of her brain could at least register that what Charlie wanted was to make sure that she was otherwise in one piece, so she managed to nod.

Charlie’s hand was still cradling the back of her neck and looked in her eyes, his mouth hard, and he looked like he did not buy it, but all he asked next was, “What happened to your hand, Bells?”

She swallowed, trying to force her tongue to work. “I fell—in the driveway—piece of glass—” The disjointed words were the best she could manage, and they dried up when she couldn’t think of anything else to say that didn’t involve teeth, and she just looked at him helplessly, before cutting her eyes down and away.

Which was a mistake, because her gaze landed on her hand then, still bleeding, and she could see the dirt and grit still on her skin, the smooth edges of the slice and the red meat underneath, and just looking at it made a lance of pain shoot through it, and nausea clawed up into her throat again, and she jerked her head away and covered her mouth with her right hand, fighting her rising gorge.

She heard Charlie’s deep breath. “Okay, baby. That looks pretty bad. Come on, get up,” he said, gripping her shoulders, and she stood obediently, only wobbling a little. He guided her into the kitchen to the sink, and told her to close her eyes as he held her hand under the faucet.

She looked away and squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a breath through her clenched teeth at the stabbing pain when the cold water hit her skin and where Charlie was gently washing away the dirt and blood. But she could still imagine it, see in her head the gaping wound in her hand, the disgusting filthy glass deep in her flesh, and the white dripping fangs above her—

“I think I’m gonna be sick—”

She barely had time to get the words out and for Charlie to yank her down over the sink before she vomited, her stomach rebelling against all the panic she’d been shoving down into it since she’d gotten home. Charlie gathered up her hair and held it out of the way as she heaved in the sink, rubbing her back as she subsided into weak shivers.

The faucet came back on, washing away the mess down the black eye of the drain. Bella watched it go, vaguely aware of Charlie wetting a dishrag to put on the back of her neck. She managed to stand up, and Charlie wetted another rag before shutting off the sink and guiding her over to the kitchen table, where she sank gratefully down onto a chair. He sat down opposite her, pulling her hand across the table, and she looked away as he inspected it.

“This is pretty deep, Bells—I can see why it shook you up.” Bella fought against the bout of hysterical laughter that nearly escaped her, but the cold and the sting of the wet rag that he pressed against her hand was enough to snap her out of it. “I think we should have somebody look at this.” He stood. “Come on. Let’s run you over to the hospital, get a doctor to see you.”

She nodded dumbly, yes, a doctor, that’s what she needed, because she was pretty sure she was losing her mind, and the doctor at the hospital—

—the doctor—

—Dr. Cullen—

“No!”

Charlie started in surprise at her sudden shriek, and she flailed out to yank at his arm. “No—not the hospital—not there, not the doctor—I can’t—”

“Bella!” Charlie’s bark cut off the terrified torrent of words, and he gripped her shoulders. “Bella—you are hysterical, and you have a bad cut that might need stitches, and you haven’t cleaned it so you probably need antibiotics,” he said, and his voice brooked no dispute. “I know you hate hospitals, but you need to see a doctor.”

But the doctor is a fucking vampire!

But she didn’t say that—couldn’t say that—and could only numbly let Charlie herd her out the door and into his cruiser. She was still fully dressed—in her panic she hadn’t even taken off her coat as she flew into the house—and in short order she was bundled into the passengers’ side as Charlie flicked on his lights and rolled out of the driveway, crunching the glass of the broken beer bottle under his tires as he turned onto the road and sped toward town.

As it turned out, the doctor was not a fucking vampire.

Charlie had had to support her to walk into the ER, as her legs were threatening to give out on her in her rush of terror at the thought of seeing one of them. She sat and shivered in her chair while Charlie filled out her paperwork, her brain going back into useless, panicked overdrive as the adrenaline surged through her again, so when the nurse came out and directed them into room three and told them that “Dr. Gerandy will be with you shortly,” the name almost didn’t register. But when it did, when she realized it wasn’t Dr. Cullen, she went completely limp with relief, to the point Charlie had to help her to walk again to get her down to the examination room.

Dr. Gerandy was short, heavy, bespectacled, balding, and with a fairly brusque bedside manner, and all around was about as far from Dr. Cullen as was possible. Charlie, thankfully, had managed to explain the situation, since Bella was still completely unable to form coherent sentences.

She wound up with five tiny stitches and some heavy bandages by the time Dr. Gerandy was done. “She’s a bit shocky,” he’d said to Charlie while taping her up.

“I thought she might be—she’s never handled blood very well,” Charlie answered, and Bella had again felt that insane laughter fighting toward the surface at the idea that she’d almost fainted just because of the blood.

“I’ll send one of the nurses around to give her a tetanus shot,” the doctor said. “Aspirin or Tylenol should be sufficient for pain, but do keep an eye out for swelling, redness—anything that looks like it might be an infection.” Charlie had nodded, and promised to follow his instructions to keep her bundled up and feed her light food that she could keep down, and after Bobbi the nurse gave Bella a tetanus booster, Charlie had taken her home.

Bella stayed quiet for the most part and let Charlie fuss over her, because she didn’t want him out of her sight. She refused to go lie down in her room, staying wrapped in a blanket on the couch, jumping at every sound—how had she never noticed how creaky the house was? She took the Tylenol that he gave her, ate the soup that he made her, and didn’t say much, no matter how she wanted to.

She could. She could tell him everything. She had her folder full of pictures. The police station got vandalized right after she mentioned the big photo in the lobby. There were all those people dead in Olympic National—where the Cullens went every weekend. Oh, God—those people in Port Angeles were bled dry and Edward had been right there—

—Edward tried to eat her.

But every time she almost felt like she could get the words out, she would look at Charlie and could just see the confused and then horrified and pitying look he would get if she started raving about monsters living in Forks, Washington, something she could still hardly believe herself if it hadn’t been for those teeth, and—no.

So she said nothing, just chewed on flecks of peeling skin around her nails.

It was getting late when Charlie coaxed Bella into the shower; she’d at least had enough wherewithal to refuse his awkward offer of help, except for him taping plastic wrap around her bandage. He’d helped her upstairs, at least, and she was pathetically grateful for his presence when she had to get some nightclothes and had to go into her darkened room, and she was suddenly five years old again and every shadow and dark shape loomed out at her, a monster crouched in the corner or lurking in her closet and the last thing she would see would be glittering eyes and gleaming teeth before it pounced—

But then the light snapped on and there was nothing but her room, plain and empty. But just like when she was five, there was still no reassurance that everything would be fine, because she knew damn well that the monster was still out there, just waiting for when the lights went out again.

She shambled into the bathroom, fighting down her once again rising panic at the thought of being alone—and for Charlie, alone in the house too—and then blinked stupidly at the sight of the blood-smeared crucifix still sitting in the bathtub.

She snatched it up, feeling bizarrely (or, perhaps, not-so-bizarrely) comforted by it. Her mind, previously fixated on the fight between what she understood logically about the world versus what her own eyes had told her, eagerly latched onto it—a crucifix. Yes. Those were foolproof, weren’t they? And holy water and silver and garlic and running water and sunlight—

Only not that last one. She’d seen all the Cullens out during the day (except they always covered up, yeah, it was cold, but they always had hats and hoods and gloves and even a parasol—was that why?!). And—and Edward had been in PA, had driven there—there were rivers everywhere on the road, he had to have crossed running water to get there.

The reassuring weight of the crucifix suddenly felt much flimsier in her hand.

It took her a minute to remember that Dracula, at least, had been able to go out during the day, and then felt another bout of hysteria coming on when she realized she was actually considering a Victorian horror novel as a self-defense guide.

She quickly turned on the water and stripped off, and when she stepped in the tub, the sound of the running water covered her helpless, rasping laughter, and the frantic tears that followed it.

Bella felt marginally more sane after letting it all out, and dried and dressed and then, steeling herself, went down the hall and into her bedroom. The lights were still on, but the curtains were drawn back and window was a blank black hole into the night, and for a moment she was sure she was going to see a bloodless face with burning eyes and dripping teeth looking in at her—

Shuddering but unable to turn away, lest something sneak in on her, she gingerly sat down at her computer and got online. Bracing herself to actually write the word (and glancing periodically over her shoulder at her window as she did) she shakily typed the word “vampire” in her search.

There was a dismayingly large number of results. And any one page was likely to have a dizzying amount of information, often contradictory. All the usuals she remembered, and then some, depending on the type of vampire and where the story originated, and no one universal agreement of how to keep them away. Bella had never invited him in, and some said that meant they couldn’t come in, but sunlight certainly didn’t seem to work—how could she trust one and not the other? She couldn’t remember seeing Edward’s reflection in the big windows in the biology classroom—it wasn’t like she’d actually looked for it, but surely it she would have noticed if she didn’t, wouldn’t she? She swore they ate lunch during the day like anyone else, including pizza, and even crappy high school cafeteria food would have garlic in it—but then she read about the practice of scattering grains around a fresh grave and that a rising vampire would be compelled to stop and count them all, and she had a sudden flash of memory of Edward and Alice, frozen in the hallway, their eyes darting wildly between her rolling Skittles on the floor—

She killed her browser, scrubbing at her eyes and fighting another bout of crying.

This was getting her nowhere. And some part of her still refused to believe it anyway—vampires weren’t real! Maybe she had imagined the whole thing—maybe she had just been in shock over her bleeding hand and blacked out, maybe her obsession over the random coincidences of a few old pictures had filled in a wild hallucination—

“Bella?”

She shrieked, her heart pounding in her chest as she whirled around and there was someone standing in the hallway—

“You okay?” Charlie asked.

She stared at him, shaking, and had to swallow a few times before croaking, “Yeah.”

The concerned look that Charlie had worn all evening since they got home was beginning to deepen into genuine alarm again. “Bella—are you sure? I know you don’t like doctors and blood, but you’re really worrying me—”

“I’m fine,” she said, and she didn’t even need to see Charlie’s disbelieving look to know that sounded completely false. “I just—” she swallowed, and found her own attempts to convince herself that nothing had happened to be the best she could come up with, and tried, “I just…I think I blacked out today when…when I hurt myself, and I—I hate it, that I can’t—I don’t know what…”

She trailed off. Charlie rubbed his hand over his mouth, but then came into the room and knelt in front of her to wrap her in a hug. Bella clung to him, not knowing what else to do—not knowing if in the night something was going to crawl into their bedrooms and—

She sucked in a quivering breath and buried her face in his shoulder.

Charlie was still and quiet for a minute, and then asked, “It’s nine—do you want to turn in early, or come back down for a bit?”

Bella was, in fact, exhausted due to the constant stream of adrenaline she’d been riding all evening, but for the very same reason she was utterly wired and not in the least bit sleepy.

To say nothing of the terror that boiled up in her stomach at the thought of being alone in the dark of her room.

“I’ll come down,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Think maybe you’d like some ice cream?”

She didn’t, really, but she was never one to turn down a treat under normal circumstances, so she just nodded in the hope that Charlie wouldn’t press her with more questions that she didn’t know how to answer.

He let her go and stood. “Well, let’s go down and get some.”

She flicked her eyes to her window. “I’ll be right down,” she said.

Charlie looked at her for a moment, but she was telling the truth this time, so he nodded and left the room. Bella waited until she could hear him clomping down the stairs before standing up and edging over her dresser to rummage through her old jewelry box, the one with the little plastic ballerina that would spring up when she opened the lid and twirl to “Für Elise” if she’d wound it up. Buried in the bottom she found her Rosary from her first Communion. The beads were glass and a rather garish shade of red with a purple sheen, and the crucifix at the end was cheap plated pot metal, but it had been blessed.

Carefully she tiptoed down the hallway to Charlie’s room and braced herself for what she would see when she turned on the light—but there was nothing there that shouldn’t be, no one there that shouldn’t be, and she quickly crossed the room to the window and, taking a deep breath, pushed the curtains aside. It was dark behind the glass, and empty too. No one waiting outside to pounce. Letting the air out of her lungs, she carefully stretched the beads out along the sill.

It looked pitifully inadequate, especially next to her memories of being crushed against the gravel outside, of long-fingered hands throwing her around as if she weighed nothing, but it was all she had.

She let the curtains drop so Charlie couldn’t see it and then left, turning the lights off behind her as she went back downstairs.

Bella shot awake the next morning at the sound of the rattling pipes in her wall. Bleary and disoriented, her heart was pounding and she had no idea why.

That is, until she propped herself up on her left hand and promptly jerked it in close with a yelp of pain, looked down at her bandaged palm, and remembered. Remembered everything.

They hadn’t stayed downstairs much longer after Bella’s shower, rather to her dismay. Charlie had made them both bowls of strawberry ice cream, and Bella ate hers mechanically, the crucifix in the pocket of her sweatpants pressing comfortingly against her thigh. She’d taken her own bowl out, although the dark window over the sink gave her pause—why the hell did this house have so many windows in it?! Anything could get in! But there was nothing and no one in it, but her mouth had still dried up in the brief moment that she imagined someone peering in at her, so she got a glass for some water. And then paused, her hand in the cabinet, before opening the other one to the side.

Down at the bottom. The spice rack. Salt, pepper, paprika, cinnamon, poultry seasoning…and garlic powder.

She hadn’t even stopped to consider how stupid it looked—she’d just grabbed the garlic powder and stuffed it in the other pocket of her sweats.

By then it was nearly ten, and Charlie wasn’t a night owl, and Bella had had a rough day, so he had suggested they turn in. But she didn’t want to, because she would have to go into her room, alone, and if they fell asleep then anything could sneak in and they would never know until it was too late—

But she still couldn’t say any of that, could only cling to Charlie when he gave her a hug goodnight and then numbly let him sent her off to bed.

She hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. She closed her door but left her light on, the garlic on her bedside table along with her pepper spray, and her crucifix clutched in her hand. There she sat, half-upright against her pillows as she watched the window. She wanted to close it, but at the same time she couldn’t, because if the curtains were drawn she’d have no warning if something was out there—she had to be able to see. But with the curtains left open, behind her eyes spooled an endless reel of Ralphie and Danny Glick scratching at the glass, just as every creak in the hallway became Count Orlok’s shadow on the stairs.

But she obviously must have dozed off at some point to be awakened in the first place. The garlic was still by her bed, her crucifix was buried in her sheets, and most importantly, both she and Charlie seemed to have survived the night.

Although she nearly had a heart attack when her alarm suddenly started shrieking at her. She managed to slam her hand on the off button, her heart pounding, and then was just stupidly confused why it was going off so early—but no, it hadn’t, it was that Charlie seemed to be showering so late. Gingerly, she got out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to see if…well, if anything, really.

But there was nothing. Everything was where it had been the night before, the doors were still firmly locked, the windows all shut and whole. Even a quick peek into Charlie’s room behind the curtains showed that her rosary was still undisturbed on the windowsill.

Not knowing what else to do, Bella just went back to her room and got dressed. The bathroom was free by the time she was clothed, so she went in to do her morning routine, and met Charlie in the hallway when she came out.

“Aren’t you late?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Charlie shrugged. “But I have to take you to school today, remember?”

Oh. Yeah. She hadn’t actually. She had no car. That’s why she had to get a ride home, and then Edward had—

It all seemed so surreal and crazy in the light of morning. Nothing had happened. Everything was fine.

Vampires weren’t real.

Something had happened, obviously, because Charlie was still overly solicitous, checking on her injury and giving her Tylenol, making Bella’s cereal for her as if she was still five, and prompting her to make sure she had everything, her wallet and her bag and her books, as they left the house. She did—this was all routine, and Bella was admittedly still operating on autopilot as she got into Charlie’s cruiser and stared out the window at the passing trees.

Nothing had happened. Who cared if she had a crazy folder full of stupid pictures? That didn’t mean anything. And, yeah, obviously her hand was messed up, but she’d fallen down. That was exactly the kind of crap she was known for. There didn’t have to be vampires involved.

“You ready for your test today?”

She started in her seat. “Huh?”

Charlie gave her that concerned look out of the corner of his eye. “Your test. You stayed late at school to study yesterday?”

…Shit. Her test. Apparently, despite what may or may not have happened yesterday, the world was still spinning on. And it was Thursday before spring break. Today was the day for midterm exams for odd-houred classes. That meant biology.

Bella swallowed. “Um. Yeah. I studied. Should be okay.”

Charlie eyed her. “Do you…do you think I need to…sign you out, or something?” he asked haltingly. “Are you up for it, after yesterday?”

It was tempting. Yes, she’d studied yesterday, but if she’d retained anything after…after, it would be a miracle. And yet there was something comforting about the idea of school and assignments and tests. That was normal. That was how the world was supposed to work. At school there were no vampires. She could just go to class, take her test…and Edward would be there too, he wouldn’t miss midterms, because that would be stupid, to skip out on a test, and he would be his usual weird, awkward self, because he’d given her a ride home yesterday and then gone home, while Bella had cut her hand and then hallucinated something crazy, and if she just went to class and took her test maybe everything would go back to normal.

“I…yeah,” she said. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Only when Charlie pulled into the parking lot and dropped her off by the door with an anxious kiss on her forehead, and Bella was left standing in front of her school and wondering just what would happen if she did see Edward and things didn’t go back to normal, did she think that maybe she wouldn’t be okay.

Miraculously, Bella did actually make it through the school day without having a nervous breakdown.

Although it was a very near thing at lunch.

In English they’d already turned in their response logs, and so were watching the recent (and fairly terrible) TV adaptation of Their Eyes Were Watching God. If she’d been in a proper AP class they would have probably had a full class discussion or a paper on the differences between the book and the movie, but it wasn’t, so they were just watching it to wind down the last of the nine weeks. Similarly in history it was business as usual, just the next lecture, which would of course have to be reviewed after everyone forgot it over spring break.

Trig was the same; with no tests, there was a light assignment today that most finished in class, but Varner didn’t really care if they didn’t, and most of the students had either used the extra time as a study hall (as Bella did to try and make up for her lack of studying the night before), or just played Pocket Tanks on the computer in the corner (as had Mike and Ben and most of the boys in class).

Spanish was a review for the midterm tomorrow, which was appreciated, and then it was lunch. The soothing routine of classes had almost been enough for Bella to get her mind back in some semblance of working order. She was less anxious about things that had in fact not gone bump in the night, and more about her upcoming exam that she didn’t feel quite as prepared for as she would have liked. She felt too distracted for a proper lunch, so she thought that maybe it would be a good idea to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria cold line and just scarf that down in the hallway, and then spend the rest of the period cramming in the library.

Only, as she picked up a cellophane-wrapped turkey sandwich from the cafeteria cold case and turned to join the line, her illusion of normalcy was shattered.

The Cullen table was empty.

Oh, God. They were gone. All of them gone.

Things were not normal.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she fled the cafeteria, lunch forgotten. Her eyes darted all around as she sped between the buildings, horribly exposed and out in the open if someone—something—was there watching. But nothing happened, and she made it inside and dashed down the hall toward the library.

She found a table inside against a wall and with a clear view of the entrance, and tried to catch her breath. Her hand wormed into her bag, to clutch at the crucifix that she’d stuffed in there this morning, an anchor to hold her down as her mind whirled.

The Cullens were gone.

What did that mean?

It didn’t have to mean anything.

But she couldn’t shake the awful certainty that it did. It was just one more thing that she couldn’t ignore, one more thing that was telling her that she had not had a hallucination last night.

That they were suddenly gone because Bella knew what they were.

But where had they gone? Were they going to come back?

Were they going to come for her?

It was only the sight of other students coming in and setting up shop to study through lunch that she snapped out of her renewed panic over the fact that there were vampires in Forks, and fell back into the milder, almost comforting panic of the mundane matter of her midterm next period that she was supposed to be studying for. Between that and the inherent comfort of the presence of others, she managed to bully herself out of her pointless, frantic worrying, at least for the time being, and go over her notes.

She doubted her retention was at its best, but it was something at least. When the bell for the end of lunch rang, she gathered up her notes and shouldered her bag and headed toward the biology classroom.

The wait for the bell to ring to start class was nerve-wracking. What if the Cullens really weren’t gone, they just hadn’t been in lunch today? What would she do if Edward showed up? What would he do?

The rest of the class slowly filtered in, but when the second bell rang, Bella was still alone at her bench. Despite the fact that the Cullens being gone seemed to confirm what she knew, she nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief—that for the moment, at least, she wouldn’t have to see him.

She muddled through the midterm. Almost twelve years of school had trained her well to focus on exams, which she found she could mostly do, even in her current state of mind. Thankfully, it was as easy as she thought it would be, although there were one or two questions that she wasn’t sure she got right and felt like she should have—that she would have if she’d been able to study as she wanted.

And if, you know, she hadn’t almost been eaten the night before.

Being not just the end of the week but of the nine weeks, gym was just dodge ball, and given Bella’s state of distraction, she was nailed pretty quickly in all three games, and so spent most of the time sitting out. She largely preferred it, although now that her test was over, she had gone right back to obsessing over the fact that the Cullens were gone. It had almost been her last hope that she would see Edward at school today and she might be able to convince herself that it didn’t happen. Yeah, obviously she’d have to deal with the fact that she’d apparently had some kind of mental episode, but that was small beans when compared to the fact that vampires were apparently real and living in her backyard.

She felt all the usual relief when the bell for the end of the day sounded, but it didn’t last long. She hadn’t realized just how immensely comforting it had been to be surrounded by crowds all day. Now she had to go home, where it would just be her and Charlie alone in the house, and where anyone (anything) could have a much easier time of sneaking in and—

She slammed her locker closed and hefted her bag over her shoulder. As she exited the building, she habitually turned toward her usual parking space, where her truck had been this morning—only to see it empty. She blinked stupidly at it, before remembering that Charlie said he was going to get someone from the city to have it towed—and that he had brought her to school this morning, and would be picking her up as well.

And there he was, his cruiser idling at the other end of the building where he would have turned in. Bella trotted over to the car and slid in.

“Hi, Bella,” Charlie greeted her. “How are you feeling?”

She managed a wan smile that she hoped was obscured by her buckling her seatbelt enough so that it was convincing. “I’m okay. Tired,” she added honestly. “I didn’t sleep much.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed. “I thought you might have been worn out enough after everything that you’d drop off.”

Bella just shrugged, unable to explain that she’d been up all night in fear of her life.

“How did your test go?”

“Okay, I think.” She picked at her fingers. “Could have probably done better if I’d been able to study last night.”

“Is this going to mess up your grades? Because if it is, there should probably be some kind of—extenuating circumstances or something, and I could talk to your teachers—”

“No, no,” Bella stopped his line of thought. “I know I didn’t fail or anything—and I’d almost have to fail for it to actually mess up my GPA.” Although her GPA would really suffer if she turned into someone’s hot lunch, she thought, and suppressed an urge to lapse back into last night’s crazy laughter.

She’d always said she’d rather laugh over something than cry, but this persistent hysteria was forcing her to reevaluate her opinion.

“I drove over here with Jimmy this afternoon,” Charlie said suddenly. Bella looked at him blankly, and he continued with, “He hitched up your truck right before school let out; he’ll drop it off at the house.”

Oh, right. “That’s good,” Bella managed to say. Charlie mentioned seeing if Jacob could take a look this weekend during their usual watch party, and she made a vague noise of agreement.

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive home. They pulled into the driveway to the sight of a man in coveralls ambling towards the cab of his city tow truck, Bella’s own pickup parked behind him up by the house, and he lifted his hand in a wave as Charlie shut off his cruiser.

“Hey, Chief,” the man—Jimmy—called.

“Hey, there, Jimmy—thanks for bringing her in,” Charlie answered, swinging around to shake his hand.

Bella got out of the car and went over to say thank you as well, only to hear him say, “Good news—nothin’ wrong with it.”

Charlie’s eyebrows raised as Jimmy went on. “Figured I’d take a quick look under the hood while I was here, see if I could see anything. Poked around a bit and sure enough, the coil wire was loose,” he said.

“Oh—that’s nothing,” Charlie answered, sounding surprised.

Jimmy nodded. “Yep—just got ‘er back in good and tight, and she started right up.” He chuckled. “If it were twenty years ago, I’d’ve said somebody was havin’ a bit of fun with you, darlin’,” he remarked to Bella as he handed her her keys. “Yankin’ the coil wire—or better yet, wrappin’ the end in electrical tape and puttin’ it back—that was a gold-star prank back in the day.”

Bella’s stomach crunched up into a little ball. Her coil wire was suddenly loose so that her car wouldn’t start—and Edward had been right there to pick her up.

Dimly she heard Charlie and Jimmy exchanging words, and she managed to shake herself when he handed her back her keys so she could thank him, and then he was back in his tow truck and pulling away. Leaving her and Charlie all alone.

Charlie had taken the rest of his shift off to stay home with her, for which Bella was painfully grateful. That was despite the fact that he was hovering a bit and clearly could tell that she was not okay. He’d made a point for them to look at her hand, to make sure it wasn’t turning red or getting sore, and made her take some more Tylenol, and then had made a few awkward attempts to ask if she needed anything, or just needed to talk. Rattled all over again by what Jimmy had said about her truck, Bella very nearly spilled it all, before managing to shut them both down by saying that she needed to study for Spanish.

But she didn’t go to her room, instead installing herself at the kitchen table where she could see Charlie sitting on the couch watching the news. Her crucifix was tucked in her lap.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Bella stayed at the table, trying to study and managing at least a little. Actual review was periodically interrupted by brief bouts of obsessing over prior interactions (the way Edward was always cramming himself to the side of his car seat—was he trying to avoid the rear-view mirror so she wouldn’t see that he had no reflection? And judo, he said, but judo didn't magically make you able to throw a man ten feet!) and panic (they’d driven in two cars yesterday, and left Edward with one on his own and sabotaged her truck so he could get her alone, they were all in on it, what were they going to do?!).

Charlie had been coming in to check on her, and it was a little after five when he stopped by the table to ask how she was yet again only to be answered when her stomach gave a loud gurgle.

He chuckled at her embarrassment. “I guess that part of you is feeling fine,” he joked.

Bella rubbed her belly self-consciously. “Yeah, I—I skipped lunch to study today.”

Charlie frowned at that, but it was gone quickly. “Well, then, I can handle an early dinner. Why don’t we just head out now?”

Much like everything else going on today, Bella had also forgotten that it was Lodge night. Well, any excuse to spend time in public places sounded like a good idea to her, so she agreed.

Her jacket had nice deep pockets—what was convenient for her pepper spray was also perfect to accommodate her crucifix.

Dinner was just as quiet as the afternoon had been. Charlie had chatted with the wait staff and hailed a few regulars, but since they were early it was a slightly smaller collection of faces than usual. Bella couldn’t help but be grateful; she absolutely would not have been able to handle Waylon tonight.

They didn’t talk much at their table, though. Bella’s replies to Charlie’s conversational gambits were lackluster, and she could admit that if she kept this up then he was going to do something drastic, but she didn’t know what to do about it—how to snap out of it, or how to tell him what was really wrong.

He was definitely anxious, though, that she still hadn’t bounced back after yesterday. He watched her like a hawk to make sure she ate, and she could at least oblige him there, and did not object to dessert.

Bella was reluctant to again leave the relative safety of being surrounded by other people, but once they were finished there was really no reason to linger, so she nodded when Charlie asked if she was ready to leave and followed him up to the register and out to the car.

Bella was still quiet in the car, watching the passing buildings fading into darkness and lights coming on as the twilight slid into night. Charlie didn’t speak either; the only noise was the occasional burst of chatter over Charlie’s radio, but she was used to that to the point that she tuned it out. Which was why it did catch her attention when Charlie suddenly said, “This is Car 245, I’m right on Bogachiel off 101 and can be there in five.”

Bella looked up as the radio answered, “Roger that, Chief. Emergency vehicles have been dispatched.”

Charlie hung up the receiver and flicked on his sirens, and at Bella’s questioning look said, “Sorry, Bells—I’m closest.”

“I didn’t hear—what’s going on?”

“Car wreck—there was a report of someone running off the road,” he answered.

Bella nodded; this sort of thing had happened a few times before when she’d been visiting in the past. The perils of riding in a squad car, she supposed. He was technically off-duty any time she was riding with him, but it was Charlie—he never really was. If he was out and about, he was always suited up and ready to go anywhere except on weekends, and even then if he got called up he’d be back out on the job as soon as he could.

They were indeed closest—they were the first emergency vehicle on the scene. Charlie killed the siren but left the lights flashing as he pulled to the side of the street, a car-length behind a sleek black sedan that was already parked there. It didn’t look to be damaged, though, and as Charlie got out, she followed him with her eyes and saw him headed instead toward a banged-up pickup that was past the roadside ditch and nose-first into a tree. Ah. That one, then. In the dimming light she could see that there was someone sitting on the ground next to it, and another man standing beside him, and then Charlie was on the scene.

Bella bit her lip and looked down at her hands. They were still in town, but off the main thoroughfare. One side was still fairly well-lit, but the other, where Charlie and the accident were, was hidden in the deepening shadows. The nearest streetlight was much too far away. The dome light was still on in the wrecked truck, but Charlie’s lights were really the only other source that was close enough for her peace of mind.

She glared at the three-pointed Mercedes emblem on the back of the car in front of her. It was the only thing that was actually well-lit by the beams of Charlie’s cruiser. She knew there were other buildings and houses and such just behind the stand of trees, but right now all there was was the growing darkness. And no other cars seemed to be passing, either; it was Thursday evening, so no one was really out and about on a weekday at night.

But there might be other things out.

She turned to look as the ambulance pulled up. She’d already heard the approaching sirens when Charlie had turned off his own; the hospital wasn’t far, after all. It pulled over on the other side of the sedan, flooding the site with light, but not quite enough to illuminate the trees, and making it clear just how far the sun had set. It was quite dark now where Bella sat in the cruiser.

She watched the EMTs hustle down to the crash, but then her gaze jerked to the trees behind them—had something moved back there?

Her hand slid into her pocket, her fingers curling around the crucifix in an almost reflexive motion as they had been all evening. She looked behind her; no light fell past the front of the cruiser on this side of the street, and the trees stretched farther out, wrapping around a little ways past the clear spot where the car was.

Anything could be hiding in there.

Abruptly Bella opened the door and got out. She couldn’t see, cooped up in there. She went around to the front of the car to stand in the comforting beam of the headlights, between Charlie’s cruiser and the Mercedes. Hopefully Charlie would just think she was rubbernecking by coming out of the car. He would have no reason to think that she had gotten out so she could see all around the site of the accident, if something was coming. And hopefully in the lights and outside the car, Charlie would see her—would hear her—if…if something happened.

She couldn’t help but watch what was going on, even as her eyes kept flicking away, drawn toward the slightest movement from the trees. She saw the EMTs talking to the man on the ground, and then watched as they trudged back to the ambulance without him and packed up, turning off their lights and then heading away. That was good—that meant no one was hurt.

…But it was also bad, because now there were that many fewer people around and that much less light in their patch of trees. Hopefully a fire truck would be along soon, to help light everything back up again.

Finally she saw Charlie hauling the man on the ground to his feet and then walking him toward the car—hopefully that meant they were about done and could get out of here. She didn’t recognize the man, and was glad she was well away as he was loaded into the back; not fully in the car, but just sitting sideways with his legs sticking out.

Charlie was leaning forward and apparently talking to him, and then stood and looked over to where Bella was standing and crossed the few steps to the front of the car.

“Hey, Bells,” he said, sounding tired. “We’ll have to wait here for a minute. Got a DUI—Marshall’s fine, just knocked silly and needs to sober up—but we need to get him down to the tank.” He jerked his chin towards the legs poking out of the back seat as he spoke. “I’ve radioed the station to send another car along to come pick him up.”

Bella nodded, her stomach sinking and her eyes flicking back to the trees as Charlie went on. “I just need to sit here with him until Mark gets here.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’d take him in myself if it was just me, but since you’re here, I’ll let Mark handle it, and as soon as I can hand Marshall off, we’ll get you home.”

Bella heard the sound of approaching sirens. She took a deep breath and nodded, and opened her mouth to speak. “I—”

A hand fell on her shoulder.

“It’s all right, Charlie,” said Dr. Cullen. “I can take Bella home.”

Chapter Text

Bella’s heart stopped.

The sirens grew louder, but they barely registered over the roaring in her ears.

Charlie was speaking; she saw his mouth moving, but his words seemed to come from a great distance. “Oh—Carlisle—no, that’s not necessary. That’s out of your way—”

Dr. Cullen’s voice was near her ear, neutral and pleasant. “It’s no trouble at all. You have you hands full, and I would feel better for Mr. Ralston if he were seen to quickly. And I’m sure Bella needs to get home to study for her midterms.”

The hand on her shoulder squeezed just a touch too hard.

The fire truck roared up at last, the flashing lights throwing sickly red tones over everything, the ruckus of their arrival drowning out the short, terrified breaths whistling out of Bella’s mouth. Charlie seemed to be about to speak, but there was a sudden lurch from the back of the cruiser, and the man inside was stumbling out again, rambling about something in slurred speech, and Charlie had to go charging over to wrestle him back in.

The hand on her shoulder kept squeezing.

Charlie only looked up briefly from where he was watching Marshall. “It would probably be better—if you’re sure, Carlisle," he said, barely taking his eyes off his arrest to speak to him. "Bells—we’ll still have be here for a while, and if I could get him in myself it would just be easier.”

No! No no no no—

“I’m happy to help—and you understand, don’t you, Bella?”

Cold fingers dug sharply under her collarbone, and she flinched, but they didn’t let go, and she had a detached sort of realization that she was dangerously close to wetting herself. She turned her head ever so slightly, shaking beneath those clamping fingers, and there he was, Dr. Cullen, his face smooth and hard, an expressionless mask with eyes turned red by the flashing lights, and he looked her in the eye, and then ever-so-slowly looked at Charlie, and then back at her.

His meaning was clear, and terror boiled up, loud and bright.

Charlie was wrestling with Marshall in the squad car again, and the firemen were making their way over, and finally he just called over Marshall's drunken hollering in exasperation, “Go ahead, Bella—it’d be better for you not to be around all this. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

A helpless croak came out of her mouth, but that was all the sound she could make, and then suddenly she was moving—was being pushed towards the long dark sedan waiting to receive her.

Her feet seemed to move without her input. The icy fingers never left her shoulder, steering her firmly to the passenger side of the black Mercedes, and then Dr. Cullen was in her view again as he stepped around to pull open the door, which yawned wide to show the glossy black interior, cast in a dull, sanguine hue from the lights outside.

But now her feet, moving on autopilot from before, had finally seemed to catch up with the rest of her, and she was rooted to the spot. Trembling, she turned her head to look at Dr. Cullen.

He stared back, his face as blank and white as the moon, and then slowly moved his eyes over to cast that pointed look back at her father.

And then with a tiny jerk of his head towards the car, his hand suddenly pressed down on her shoulder with inexorable strength, and she crumpled into the seat.

The door slammed shut with the thud of a coffin lid.

And then the driver’s side opened and he slid inside and shut his own door, and she heard the locks engage even as she pressed herself flat against the door, heart hammering in her throat as she fought into her pocket for her crucifix, and she found herself crazily reminded of Edward and how he pressed up against the car door those times, and then Dr. Cullen turned to face her and he pressed one hand on the seat between them and she shrank back as he leaned forward and opened his mouth and oh, God—

“Bella—I am not going to hurt you.”

The words didn’t register at first, but once they did, she didn’t believe them.

He was still talking. “Do you understand me?” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I am not going to hurt you.”

Silence. His face was no longer cold; his eyes were wide and earnest, his expression open. He took a deep breath and looked to the side, and then his eyes suddenly fixed on her right hand.

She hadn’t realized it, but she’d managed to get into her pocket, and now her crucifix was out in the open, clutched in her shaking hand against her side.

Her heart thudded heavily, once, as she realized that he was looking right at it and nothing was happening.

Except not entirely, because Dr. Cullen seemed slump just the tiniest bit, his eyes closing as his head bowed. Then he lifted it again and took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “I am deeply sorry that I frightened you,” he said, his voice even, “but it was imperative that I speak with you alone.”

Bella jumped when he moved again, but it was only to start the car and then smoothly guide it back onto the road, heading west.

The silence was thick, choking, but it didn’t stop her from jumping when Dr. Cullen spoke again. “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘Primum non nocere,’ Bella?”

She doubted she could speak, her throat still closed and her breath gone, but even if she’d been able to, she wouldn’t have known what to say to this apparent non sequitur.

Dr. Cullen continued to speak. “It means ‘first do no harm’,” he said. He was watching the road, but would glance over periodically to meet her eyes. “It is the principle guiding maxim of all healthcare professionals, commonly associated with the Hippocratic Oath.”

The car rolled to a halt at a stop light; there was no other traffic, and Dr. Cullen turned to look at her fully. “I have been a doctor for many years, Bella—and those words are not just part of my profession. They are a way a life.” His eyes bored into hers, and his voice was filled with conviction. “I will never harm you, Bella. Not you, or anyone else.”

She managed to swallow, just in time for him to say, “And nor will anyone else in my family.”

The involuntary sound that escaped her couldn’t properly be called a laugh, but the sharp bark she let out made her incredulity more than clear. She regretted it immediately, clapping her hand over her mouth—oh, no, what would he do if he thought she was laughing at him—but Dr. Cullen just bowed his head for a moment before accelerating as the light turned green and continuing on their way.

His mouth was a bit tight when he next spoke. “I must also relay to you Edward’s…profound regret and sincerest apologies for the…accident yesterday.”

“Accident?!” It was the first word she managed to get out since Dr. Cullen had grabbed her, and it erupted out of her as a high-pitched yelp of disbelief.

“Yes. Accident,” he replied, and he flicked his eyes over to catch hers once more. “You were bleeding, Bella.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and her heart, which had miraculously begun to slow as he had been speaking, suddenly was pounding again.

Bleeding. He said bleeding. Blood. Was he going to say…?

“Extenuating circumstances aside, Edward nonetheless holds himself completely responsible. He thinks quite highly of you,” he went on, and Bella had no idea how to react to that, “and he is horrified at the thought of the distress that he caused you.” At the next stoplight he turned to look at her again, this time at her bandaged hand. “Your injury—are you all right?”

Licking her lips, she nodded.

“No other issues? You weren’t hurt…by what happened after?” he asked seriously.

She stared at him, but then gave a single sharp shake of her head.

He nodded in return. “I’m relieved to hear it. And Edward will be as well.” He turned the car at the next right, entering her neighborhood. “We had been trying to decide the best way to approach you, afterwards, to speak on what happened.”

She jerked her head sharply, her back stiffening again as his words sank in. “The acc—that car wreck. Did you—?”

“Absolutely not.” He cut off her question, and she shrank back again. “It was a happy coincidence for all involved that I happened to be the first on the scene and was there to assess Mr. Ralston’s condition and offer first aid,” he said. “When you arrived with your father, I simply saw the convenient opportunity to speak with you alone and took it.”

They rounded the bend on Evergreen and stopped at the next sign. “And it was absolutely necessary that I speak with you, Bella.” His voice had taken on a hard edge. “I had to reassure you that my family has sworn to do no harm to anyone around them,” he said, and he turned and fixed her with a steady look. “But I also had to make clear to you that there are others who do not share our values. In fact, theirs are…quite the opposite.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, her tongue going dry. Others? Other…what?

Dr. Cullen’s mouth was a grim line. “These others have a vested interest in seeing to it that their circumstances are not known to the general public,” he said. “And if they found out that someone had…reached certain conclusions,” he went on, and his eyes flicked slightly down to the crucifix still clutched in her hand, “then that person would be dealt with.”

Bella’s eyes went wide. Dr. Cullen held her gaze for a moment longer, and then continued past the stop and on to her house, pulling into the driveway and putting the car in park.

Her heart was pounding in her ears again. She wanted to speak, to ask what he meant, about others, about who he meant, who they were, how they dealt with people—but nothing would come out. With the car still idling, Dr. Cullen turned to regard her with that serious expression again, and she couldn’t help but shrink back, even as she couldn’t help but look at his mouth to see if she could see his teeth—his fangs.

“I am not threatening you, Bella,” he said. “I am trying to protect you. If someone spoke publicly about certain subjects, and word got back to the wrong people, then they would be considered a liability—and likely anyone close to them as well. And there would be nothing that my family could do about it.”

Bella’s breath started whistling in panic again. Charlie? People would come after them both?!

“Have you spoken to anyone about what happened yesterday?” Dr. Cullen asked evenly.

She shook her head furiously, and she thought she saw the line of his shoulders relax by a fraction. “Had you mentioned anything to anyone about any…concerns that you may have had prior to that unfortunate incident?” he probed.

She shook her head again. “Only—” she tried, but nothing came further.

Dr. Cullen looked searchingly at her. “Only…to Edward?” he prompted, and she nodded.

He answered her with a nod of his own. “Very good.” He leaned forward, his eyes drilling into hers, and said urgently, “Now, Bella, once more: no one in Forks will hurt you in any way—but for your own safety, you must remain silent on this matter. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.”

Her voice was faint, and she had to swallow twice before she could say it, but it was enough. Dr. Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, this time in apparent relief. “Good. And once again, please allow me to extend the deepest apologies from my entire family that you have been put in this position,” he said.

He hesitated a moment, and then slowly held out his hand to her.

She cringed back involuntarily, and stared at it, and then stared at him, before finally realizing what he was doing. She swallowed, tried to speak but had no words, and then slowly released the death grip she had on the crucifix in her lap. She nearly jerked her shaking hand away twice, but after steeling herself, she managed to gingerly put her clammy hand into his.

She flinched at the cool fingers that closed lightly around her own, but she didn’t pull away. Dr. Cullen just squeezed her hand once, and then let go so she could snatch her hand back.

He glanced down at her white-knuckled grip on the cross in her lap and abruptly said, “Roses.”

She stared at him.

“What you are looking for,” he said, nodding toward her crucifix, “is roses. The petals, the hips, the wood. My…family and I have a fairly severe allergic reaction to substances derived from plants of the Rosa genus.”

Bella goggled at him, her mouth hanging open. A tiny hint of a smile quirked Dr. Cullen’s lips, and Bella jumped a mile at the sudden sharp sound of the car doors unlocking. “We’ll speak again soon,” he said, “but until then, sleep well, Bella. And know that you are safe.”

She stared at him for a heartbeat longer, and then was furiously scrabbling at the door, flinging it open and slamming it shut behind her as she skittered up the drive, nearly fell up the porch steps, and thumped against the front door to fumble her key into the lock. It took her three tries, her hands were shaking so badly, but she finally managed to open it, and as she flew in and turned to shut it, she saw Dr. Cullen still in the driveway in his car, and he nodded to her once before the door thunked shut.

Bella pressed her back against it, breathing heavily. She heard the crunch of gravel, and peered out from behind the curtain on the hall window to see the black Mercedes backing out of the drive and then pulling away.

Bella staggered on rubbery legs into the kitchen and collapsed at the table, staring sightlessly at her study materials still strewn on its surface.

What was—what was that—what—

She was safe. He kept telling her she was safe.

But if he knew she thought she wasn’t safe, then that meant he knew that she knew—

But what did she know? He didn’t say exactly what she knew. Suspicions, he said. Concerns. That could mean anything. But the way he’d seemed so resigned when he saw her crucifix, even though it didn’t seem to hurt him—

Roses, he’d said.

Bella lurched to her feet again and threw herself up the stairs to her room to her computer, and opened her browser again and did that same insane search she’d done the night before.

Garlic, crosses, holy water, running water, mirrors—and wild roses.

She stared.

Yesterday, when she fell—he said she was bleeding. And then he pointed at her crucifix and told her that what she needed was roses.

She sat back in her seat. The more she ran over and over his words, the more she realized that he hadn’t actually said very much at all. Only that she was safe, and to keep her mouth shut. The former she still didn’t quite believe, but somehow still was starting to feel like it was actually a possibility. The latter she’d done on her own, because who would have believed her? Although according to Dr. Cullen, someone would have believed her, but that was the last thing she wanted now.

And that was it. Amongst all the words he’d said, he really hadn’t said anything.

And yet somehow, he’d also said everything.

Blood and roses.

She started gnawing at a hangnail on her thumb. He hadn’t said…the word. He hadn’t said anything about teeth. He hadn’t said that things would come eat her. But the recognition when he saw her crucifix, and then he told her about a traditional way to—to ward off vampires.

All the panic and terror of the past few—why, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes but it felt like hours, were boiling up in her brain, threatening to overwhelm her, and she felt the now-familiar hysteria rearing up again, as she suddenly felt as though the world had tipped a few degrees on its axis.

She couldn’t help it. She started laughing. Rasping, helpless, painful laughter.

She hadn’t hallucinated. It had really happened. It was all true.

Forks was infested with vampires.

“Bella?”

A hand was on her shoulder.

She jerked up with a shriek, which turned into a yell as she rolled off the couch and fell on the floor with a thump. She looked wildly around, her heart pounding and found Charlie standing over her, his expression a mix of bemusement and concern. “Baby—are you okay?”

Disoriented, she looked around. Oh. Right. She'd laid down on the couch when she got home. “I—yeah,” she said, struggling to her feet. “I must have fallen asleep—you just scared me.”

“No kidding,” Charlie said dryly. She stood and scrubbed at her eyes. “You have a good day? Your other test go okay?”

“Um—yeah. It went fine.”

And the test had. She wasn’t quite sure how to rank the rest of the day, though.

Bella had sat rather stupidly at her desk for a good chunk of the evening the night before. Her hysteria had burned itself out, and she was just left sort of numb, trying to deal with the new reality she found herself living in. She was snapped out of her reverie eventually, though, when Charlie got home. It had taken him about an hour to deal with his sort-of arrest, so it was still fairly early in the evening. He’d tentatively asked if she wanted to watch anything or if she was still studying.

She forced herself to do the latter, still downstairs at the kitchen table. Even though the noise of the TV was a bit of a bother, it had still been preferable to sit somewhere where Charlie was in her line-of-sight. And even with the TV, she’d found herself concentrating marginally better now as compared to earlier as she went over her Spanish vocab. Had she actually believed what Dr. Cullen said, that she was safe? It seemed outrageous that she could feel safer in a world populated with bloodsucking monsters, but at the same time, one of them had actually promised that the very ones she was worried about weren’t going to hurt her.

Well, “safer” didn’t mean safe, so when it was finally late enough for them to go to bed, while she had closed her bedroom curtains this time, she kept the lights on, she certainly didn’t crack the window for air like Charlie had suggested now that the weather was warm (she’d been forced to run in and collect her Rosary from his room, lest he see it when he opened his own window and wanted to know what on earth she was doing). And even though she wasn’t sure if any of them would actually help, her own garlic, pepper spray, and crucifix were all at the ready.

She still took forever to get to sleep, unsurprisingly, and after the night before, she was awakened by Charlie’s shower still groggy and exhausted, only made worse by her dozing off a little before her alarm woke her again. She dragged herself out of bed and got ready for school—the tiny burst of adrenaline she got at the realization she was alone in the house helped—and headed out. It was good to be back in her truck, the plastic Rosary dangling reassuringly from the mirror.

Her first three classes of the morning had been largely the same as yesterday. Her Spanish midterm was really the only thing on her plate for the day, and that was fourth hour before lunch. She felt pretty good about it—her head was noticeably more in the game than it had been in biology—and so she was actually feeling marginally more like herself by the time she’d closed her locker and headed toward the cafeteria.

Bella had been a bit hungry, which was unfortunate, as it was Good Friday. She’d skipped breakfast accordingly, but had to wait for dinner for a proper meal—Charlie had mentioned that they should order pizza tonight. She’d stopped by the vending machines just for a pack of the peanut butter crackers and a water as her snack to tide her over, and then trotted into the seating area. She felt up to joining the usual table today, and fortunately, conversation never needed too much input from her.

Which was doubly fortunate, as it turned out, because when she entered the room, she’d nearly had a coronary on the spot when she saw that the Cullen table was full.

She’d frozen, her heart leaping up to try and make an escape out her throat. They were there, all there, just sitting out there in the open—what—

But it hadn’t been all of them. She’d only realized it when someone had brushed by her with a rather rude remark about her just standing in the way, and she’d managed to snap herself out of it to move, and as she did she’d glanced back at the table to realize that there were only four occupants today.

Her wobbly knees had managed to get her to her usual table and she dropped down on an empty seat next to Ben. She surreptitiously looked over at the Cullen table as she opened her crackers. Emmett was impossible to miss, and the two blonde heads were the Hales, and by craning her head just a little she spotted the tiny, dark-headed figure who could only be Alice—and no one else.

He wasn’t here.

Her relief was palpable, but unfortunately hadn’t lasted long. She had been unable to keep from glancing over at the Cullen table, but they all seemed involved in conversation as usual and paid no attention to her whatsoever, which only helped to relax her further. Lunch had been almost over, and Bella had actually unbent enough to laugh at Mike’s latest tale of his basketball practice misadventures, when the conversation had been brought to a screeching halt.

“Hello!”

The entire table jumped, and then all turned as a group.

Alice Cullen was standing there, looking over all of them with her usual creepy smile, and Bella couldn’t stop staring at her smile, at her teeth—they looked normal, but Edward’s had too, before she knew he had fangs.

Bella’s throat had closed up, but no one else seemed to really know what to do about the sudden intrusion either.

“Uh—hi, Alice,” Ben finally managed, blinking a bit. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Ben!” she trilled, and her roving orange eyes landed on Bella.

She shrank back.

“Bella!” Alice beamed at her. “You are having dinner with us!”

Everyone looked at her. Bella just gaped. “…What?”

“Tonight! You are coming to dinner!”

Her frozen brain had then decided it would be a brilliant moment to wake up and remind her of the age-old crack that maybe she was going as dinner, and all that would come out of her was another, much weaker, “…what?”

Alice seemed unfazed, her grin still as wide as ever. “Carlisle said Chief Swan should visit. Esme is going to invite him.”

Bella blinked. That…that at least didn’t sound like she was going to be dinner. “…Okay?”

Alice nodded furiously, and then her head tilted, her eyes seeming to look behind them for a moment, and then she announced, “We will have shrimp!”

Bella had no answer to this. Mike, on the other hand, did. “That’s cool, Alice,” he said, looking a bit punch-drunk.

Jessica narrowed her eyes, but Alice just grinned at him. “Yes! Shrimp are delicious.” Her head swiveled back to Bella. “We will see you tonight!” she said, and then bounced once on the toes of her leopard-print ballet flats, setting all the rows of green fringe on her skirt to dancing, and chirped, “Bye!” and then flitted back off to the Cullen table.

Just like Bella’s first day here when they’d been interrupted by a Cullen, there was an uncomfortable pall over the table for a few seconds after Alice retreated. This time it was Eric who broke it. “What was that about, Bella?” he’d wanted to know.

“I…uh…” She’d had to scramble for a moment, before seizing on what seemed to be the most convenient answer. “Um, my dad plays cribbage with Dr. Cullen sometimes. I guess…I guess they’re just having us over?”

“Lucky you,” he’d replied.

Yeah. Lucky her. Her relatively relaxing morning was pretty well shot, then, and she spent Biology obsessing over it. Luckily, since it was the last day before spring break, they were just watching an episode of some science program that Bella could tune out. Not even getting their tests back and finding out that she’d managed to eke out a 90—not her best work, but still an A—did much to lift her mood.

Coming to dinner? What the hell was that? They’d never visited the Cullens’ before—before, so why now?

So they could eat them, that’s why!

But no, Dr. Cullen swore he wouldn’t—but what good were his promises? Edward had certainly tried to eat her!

Vaguely, she’d remembered that the night before, Dr. Cullen had said he was going to talk to her again soon. She hadn’t really registered it at the time, given what the rest of their conversation had entailed, but even if she’d taken it literally then she still wouldn’t have thought it would be this soon. And she certainly wouldn’t have thought it would involve walking right into their lair!

Even though she rather thought that she was grasping at straws, she did eventually realize that Alice had informed the entire lunch table that Bella was being invited to their house. Not exactly a good alibi if they were going to try to—to disappear them or something.

She’d worried at the issue all through gym as well, her performance in dodgeball much like it had been the day before, and then finally she’d been able to get out of there. But all she could do was go home and sit by herself all alone in their creaking house with too many windows. She hadn’t known what else to do but try to will Charlie to get home sooner. So she’d curled up on the couch and fretted.

And had apparently been so exhausted from the past few days that she’d promptly fallen asleep.

Charlie had retreated upstairs to change out of his uniform, and when he came down, he wasn’t wearing his usual ratty sweatshirt over his jeans, but rather a nicer button-down. It was out of character enough that Bella noticed it, and it was with a sinking feeling that she guessed why.

Sure enough, Charlie said, “Esme Cullen dropped by the station today at lunch.”

Bella swallowed nervously. “Yeah?” she rasped.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “She asked us to dinner tonight. I told her we’d be there.”

“…Oh.”

Charlie caught her tone and looked at her. “You’re not still feeling shaken up, are you?”

“No,” she answered automatically, and then immediately cursed herself for missing the opportunity to get out of it—but quickly realized it wasn’t a viable option when Charlie continued.

“‘Cause if you are, I can go on my own,” he said.

Bella gnawed her lip. She couldn’t just let Charlie walk into that alone—although what good she could do was anybody’s guess.

Charlie was still talking. “Esme did mention you too, though—wanted to make sure you joined me,” he added, and she looked up at him, her stomach doing a slow roll. “You do know the kids, after all—and their youngest boy has sorta been looking out for you.”

Bella blinked. “Uh…yeah, I guess,” she said vaguely. Between the pictures and the fangs and the crazy theories that had turned into an even crazier reality, Bella had forgotten the fact that Edward had been looking out for her. Had arguably saved her life, even. That…that admittedly didn’t seem like something your run-of-the-mill movie monster would do.

Yeah, immediately came the dark thought in response, and farmers don’t want their best porkers to get hit by a car before they can turn them into bacon, either.

…But the time he saved her from the mugging, he hadn’t known it was her then. He’d just…stopped the guy. And then given her a ride. And his handkerchief.

And then three people were murdered in Port Angeles.

Bella ran her fingers through her hair, leaning forward and squeezing her eyes shut. She would give just about anything to turn the clock back the last few days, when all she had to worry about were her grades and the thin possibility that she might be merely crazy.

Charlie had gone into the kitchen; Bella looked up as he emerged with a glass of water and raised eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

“What?”

“The flowers.”

Oh, yeah. Bella had forgotten about that.

In a compete fit of paranoia at the prospect of being all alone at home, she’d stopped by the store on her way home from school and bought a bouquet of roses. They’d been in the discount bin, so they hadn’t cost too much and were only a little wilted. They were full white blooms edged with red, and they still smelled nice—hopefully strong enough to…give someone an allergic reaction, should it come to that. She’d put them in water once she got home. She’d meant to take them to her room to sit on her windowsill, but had fallen asleep, so they were still sitting on the kitchen table.

In the brief pause as Bella remembered the flowers and realized she had no answer for why they were there, Charlie’s expression suddenly went from mildly curious to utterly appalled. “Bella, did—did some boy give you those?!”

“What?! No!” She flailed around for an explanation, finally just saying, “I—I stopped for gas after school and I saw them—I just thought they were pretty!”

Charlie looked like he didn’t buy that one bit—his instincts were right, but for all the wrong reasons, and Bella felt a surge of exasperation, something so normal after her two-day emotional roller coaster that she seized on it. “Why are you always asking me about boys?!”

Charlie harrumphed, muttering something about having a teenaged girl in his house, but thankfully dropped the subject. Although the one he returned to was not exactly welcome either. “So you’re good for dinner tonight?” At her obvious hesitation, he urged, “Esme said they’d be having something with fish tonight, since they know we’re Catholic. They’re going to a bit of trouble for us.”

Bella looked at the floor. She absolutely did not want to walk into a vampire nest. But she just as absolutely didn’t want Charlie walking into one alone.

Dr. Cullen had sworn she was safe, and said that he wanted to talk to her again.

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Charlie and managed a small smile. “Sure, Dad. I’ll go with you to the Cullens’.”

Chapter Text

Bella watched the trees flash by as the car sped east. Technically, Charlie’s house was outside the city limits on the west side of town, but only just. The Cullens, on the other hand, lived quite a ways away east of town, butting right up against Olympic National Forest.

There had been three people killed there since Bella had moved to Forks.

“…my family has sworn to do no harm to anyone around them.”

—gleaming teeth with long white fangs dripping above her and going for her throat—

“I…kinda grabbed you. Uh—pulled you out of the way.”

Bella gnawed at a hangnail.

Charlie had been pleased to see her getting out of the house with him, and seemed to be looking forward to the evening himself. At his urging she’d exchanged her T-shirt for a nicer top and fluffed her hair a bit. While in her room she’d been debating bringing her crucifix or garlic or pepper spray—but had then remembered the little silver cross necklace she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday from her physical therapist and her husband. If it worked, it should work the same, right? And if it didn’t…well, then that was that.

She still brought her pepper spray in her jacket pocket. She reasoned it was to keep herself in the habit, just like Charlie wanted.

She’d almost suggested taking her roses as a “gift,” but didn’t know if Charlie would buy it, and didn’t know what would happen if she did bring them. “Allergic reaction”—what did that even mean? Would they start sneezing and break out in hives, or hiss and climb the walls and turn into bats and fly off into the night?

She wondered what Dr. Cullen had meant by “talking,” anyway. Was he going to tell her more about why she had to keep quiet? Or was she going to get to ask any of the questions that had been swirling in her head since she’d found all those pictures?

What was she supposed to talk about if Edward was there?

Charlie turned the car off the main road; they’d already been out on a darkening side road with very little by way of lighting, but this appeared to be some kind of private drive. There was an overhead light on the power pole at the end, splashing down on the drive entrance. Next to the mailbox was a very large sign that proclaimed that they were entering PRIVATE PROPERTY.

Charlie sailed on by the sign and into the gloom of the private road, thickly lined with trees. She couldn’t see anything ahead, and the streetlight was rapidly shrinking behind them. “Have—” she started, but it came out as a bit of a croak, and she swallowed and tried again. “Have you been out here before?”

“Yep,” Charlie answered easily. “Sometimes when the Cullen kids are off in PA or something, Carlisle invites me to come play cribbage at his place.”

She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse about this.

The drive was at least a mile long, and thickly lined with classic Olympic Peninsula forest. It swallowed up any remaining sunlight, leaving only a blue stripe of darkening dusk above their heads that followed along the drive. Which was why it was a surprise when they rounded the next bend and a brightly-lit house suddenly flashed into view. It was a sprawling, 1940s-looking place, all clean lines, dramatic angles, and tons of glass.

Well, what was she expecting? Dracula’s castle? 0001 Cemetery Lane?

Charlie pulled right up. There was a broad carport with a familiar Mercedes parked under it, and the drive extended even further back where Bella could just make out an unusually long garage with several closed bays. It was too dark to see much else beyond the house.

Charlie was already swinging out of the car; it was with great reluctance that Bella unbuckled and opened her door to follow. She kept scanning the trees as she got out to see if she could see anything moving back there.

She rounded the car and followed Charlie up the long curving staircase that lead to the front. It was brightly illuminated by little lights that followed the path, as well as the light from inside pouring through the huge front windows. There were neat little shrubs that lined the way, and the long planter that served as a railing on the porch was neatly filled with a variety of colorful foliage.

Charlie hadn’t noticed the way Bella was dragging her feet; he went right up the steps and rang the bell. It was an innocuous chime, not the sonorous tolling expected by the part of her that was loudly insisting that she was living in a horror movie, but she still couldn’t help but jump at the sudden movement she could see through the big front window.

Then the door swung open.

“Ah, Charlie—so glad you could make it,” Dr. Cullen said warmly, shaking Charlie’s hand.

“Well, thank you for having us. I’m sure Bella’s at least glad she has another night off from having to cook for her old man,” he added, turning around to gesture her forward.

Bella cringed as Dr. Cullen’s pale eyes snapped to her, but he kept smiling. “Of course—we’re delighted she could join us as well.” She reluctantly allowed Charlie’s hand cupping her elbow to bring her closer. “How is your hand, my dear?”

She blinked stupidly at him before saying, “Oh—uh—fine.”

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand. “Professional curiosity,” he added with a wink to Charlie, who just seemed amused and nudged Bella forward. Hesitantly, she raised her left hand and held it out, wincing as his cold fingers closed over it, and nearly jerking it away when he raised it higher, dangerously close to his mouth. But he just peered at it, lifting her bandages for a quick look before pressing them back down and looking back at her with a smile. “Looks to be healing quite well,” he said. “Dr. Gerandy does fine work.” He released her, and Bella snatched her hand back, unable to keep from wiping it frantically against her thigh.

Dr. Cullen ushered them through the door (what does it mean if he invites me in? she couldn’t help but wonder) and into a wide great room with high vaulted ceilings. Everything was warm and bright, and Bella couldn’t help but notice that it smelled good, like someone was cooking with cheese and—and garlic.

Her heart sank. That was oh-for-two.

Dr. Cullen took Charlie’s coat, and then Bella’s. Only after she’d dropped it onto his waiting arm and he was tucking it away in a nearby coat closet did she realize that her pepper spray was still in her jacket pocket, and that she was now completely defenseless.

And just as the thought hit, as Charlie said something to Dr. Cullen who laughed in response, the two of them walking further into the house, the hair on Bella’s neck suddenly stood on end, the skin between her shoulder blades starting to itch, and she whirled around to find Emmett Cullen standing right behind her.

Her heart pounded, and then her breath suddenly left her in a squeak as he leaned forward, looming over her, and she was frozen where she stood as he suddenly gave a great leering grin, showing all of his teeth, and waggled his eyebrows at her.

SMACK!

Bella jumped at the sudden sharp sound of skin-on-skin, and Emmett staggered backward.

“Don’t you dare do that to a guest in my house, Emmett Cullen!” Nurse Cullen was raging up at him, pointing a furious finger in Emmett’s face, who was clutching the cheek that she’d slapped with a wounded expression. “Now, you apologize this instant, and if you don’t behave yourself then so help me you’ll be scrubbing the bathrooms with a toothbrush!”

Emmett shuffled where he stood, trying (and failing) to look small, and then sheepishly said, “Sorry, Bella.”

Mrs. Cullen sniffed and then rounded on Bella, who flinched, but her face was all smiles. “Bella, it’s good to see you again,” she said, ignoring the way Bella’s shoulders hunched under the friendly arm she put around her shoulders. “I’m sorry my sons have been so badly behaved this week. They must be giving you the impression that we’re a pack of wild animals.”

Bella had no answer to that, but Mrs. Cullen didn’t seem to need one, just steered her into the living room proper where Charlie and Carlisle were standing, seeming to be discussing the DUI from last night. They broke off as they drew near, Charlie straightening and running a hand over his hair before greeting her.

“Charlie Swan,” she said in reply, thankfully releasing Bella to shake his hand. “It’s about time we had the two of you out here to see us.”

“Well, we’re happy to be here, ma’am,” he said. Bella couldn’t help but wonder if his crush on Mrs. Cullen was rendering him particularly oblivious, because she didn’t need a mirror to know that her own expression was the furthest thing from “happy” about being there.

She suspected that other parties could tell, but they were still playing like everything was perfectly normal. “I think dinner’s ready now,” said Dr. Cullen. “I gather you two are hungry?”

“Oh, definitely,” Charlie agreed with a laugh. “I haven’t had anything but bad police station coffee and a couple of stale donuts all day. You too, Bells?” he said, turning on her.

“Of course, she must be starving,” Mrs. Cullen answered for her. “Come on in and sit down. I’ll go marshal the troops.”

They were led around the enormous stone fireplace that divided the room from the living into the dining, where a long table was set with heavy teal plates, sparkling silver, and snowy white cloth napkins. Bella barely registered the eight place settings before Alice came bounding into the room. “Bella!” She waved wildly, her usual creepy grin firmly in place.

“Charlie,” Dr. Cullen said, “Have you met my youngest, Alice?”

“Don’t believe so,” Charlie said, smiling back at her. Alice had swiveled her head at the sound of her name, and flitted over to stand in front him, so quickly that he looked a bit startled, but when she held out her hand, he took it for that same firm, precise shake she’d given Bella.

“Hello, Chief Swan!” she tweeted.

“Good to meet you,” Charlie answered. “Do you have any classes with Bella?”

“No,” she said, but nothing else, just grinned up at him.

“I think you’ve met Rosalie and Jasper in there in the kitchen,” Dr. Cullen went on, rather smoothly directing Charlie’s attention away from Alice. This wasn’t entirely a good thing, because she went back to staring at Bella now. “The only other I don’t think you’ve met is Emmett.”

Bella started and whirled around to where Dr. Cullen was indicating; Emmett had slunk into the room behind them, and it was with an easy smile that he came forward to shake Charlie’s hand too. “Evening, Chief,” he said.

Charlie was blinking a bit, as though uncertain in the face of the bulk in front of him, but his face smoothed out quickly. “These all your classmates too, Bells?”

Emmett laughed. “Come on, Chief, give us a little credit—we three are all seniors,” he said, waving an arm to encompass himself and the two figures who were still standing in the kitchen.

Charlie chuckled obligingly, and then peered into the kitchen. “But aren’t you missing one? Where’s your younger boy, Edward?”

Bella hunched in on herself, her eyes darting around the room, half-expecting to see those livid black eyes above a red mouth full of gleaming fangs watching her from a corner—

“Oh, I’m afraid he’s not here this evening,” Mrs. Cullen said.

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did Bella was almost afraid that her knees were going to give out in relief.

He’s not here.

Mrs. Cullen was still going on, something about him visiting friends in Olympia for the weekend (just what kind of friends did he have?!), and assured them that he still sent his regards (oh, I’ll bet he does), but all Bella heard was that Edward wasn’t there. She didn’t have to see him.

Her relief managed to keep her upright during the subsequent shuffle to the dinner table. Rosalie and Jasper came out of the kitchen with a big bowl of salad and a basket of steaming garlic bread, surrounding them on all sides with pale, staring eyes. Alice seized her wrist and demanded, “You sit by me, Bella!” and dragged her to a chair in the middle of the table, and then proceeded to sit down next to her and stare at her. She at least had Charlie sitting on her other side, but was otherwise boxed in with Emmett and Rosalie and Jasper across from her. Then it was even worse when Rosalie and Esme (and a press-ganged Emmett) went back into the kitchen to serve dinner for everyone, and Bella was forced to huddle in her seat as Rosalie leaned down over her, close enough to almost feel her breath on her neck, as she set down a plate in front of her.

It was a pile of creamy fettuccine, dotted with fresh parsley and topped with fat pink shrimp, curled and fetal on their bed of pasta. When everyone was seated, Bella mechanically took a helping from both the salad bowl and bread basket as they were passed around, but despite her empty stomach, her throat felt tight and her mouth dry and she wasn’t sure she would be able to swallow much.

It didn’t help that every time she moved, she could feel Alice’s eyes on her, watching her fork travelling from her plate to her mouth as if it were a tennis match. And when she chewed, her gaze was intent on her jaw, to the point that eventually she started leaning closer.

“Alice.”

Alice finally tore her eyes away from Bella’s face at the sound of her name. Bella looked across the table too, to where Jasper was giving her an exasperated look.

Alice blinked at him for a moment, and then said, “Oh!” She turned back to Bella and smiled—only it was small and close-mouthed, and looked much more natural than her usual rictus of a grin. “Sorry,” she peeped, and then turned back to her own plate, examining it with the same intent look she’d given Bella only a moment ago. Now it was Bella’s turn to watch (albeit with what she hoped was a little more subtlety, out of the corner of her eye) as Alice picked up her fork, expertly twirled some pasta on the tines…and then awkwardly shoved it in her mouth and chewed with strange, halting movements, and then worked her neck oddly as she swallowed.

Bella cut her eyes away, taking a small bite herself, as much for something to do with her hands as anything. Was Alice just being weird, or did she not know how to eat food?

A surreptitious glance around the table seemed to indicate it was the former; no one else was seeming to have so much trouble with their dinner. Emmett and Rosalie were talking casually between themselves about someone at school between normal bites, and Charlie was having a jovial discussion with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen and had already cleared half his plate.

…And he was the only one. It only took a closer glance to realize that while utensils were in their hands, all the Cullens really only seemed to be moving their food around their plates, spreading it out to look smaller without it really going anywhere. They did take a bite occasionally, but they were small and far-between.

She sensed eyes on her, but it wasn’t Alice this time, but Emmett again, and when she turned and caught his eye across the table, he very deliberately picked up his slab of very buttery, very garlicky bread, and took an enormous bite.

And winked at her.

She felt herself turn first red as she realized she’d been caught, and then white as she realized just what his little display could mean. She cut her eyes up again only to find Rosalie looking at him with a pursed mouth, and then she turned to Bella. Her narrow-eyed look was just as unnerving as the first time she got it, but this time Rosalie huffed through her nose and just rolled her eyes.

Bella hastily looked away. She tried to apply herself to her dinner; it did taste good, and she hadn’t eaten all day, and Charlie was already having seconds pressed on him by Mrs. Cullen. Bella had already had Charlie watching her like a hawk the past few days and noticing that she wasn’t herself. If she didn’t eat, he’d notice again, and she really didn’t want him to decide she needed to see a doctor or something.

Only…he wasn’t watching her like a hawk now. He wasn’t looking at her at all. He seemed engrossed in conversation with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, laughing loudly at their remarks, happily accepting the refilled plate he was given, and just generally being more relaxed and obliging than Bella had ever seen him outside of home.

He didn’t seem to notice that, when the dishes were cleared, no one else had eaten more than half what was on their plates. He just eagerly took the slice of cheesecake that Rosalie smilingly served him, thanking her effusively. Bella poked at her own slice, the strawberry compote oozing in unpleasantly red streaks on her plate, growing more and more uncomfortable with Charlie’s loud voice. He sounded like he’d had too many beers on game day or something. They’d only been drinking water—although Bella now couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been slipped a mickey. He was the only one who ate so much—was there something in the food?

Any remaining appetite she had vanished. And still Charlie didn’t notice.

After the (still mostly uneaten) dessert had been cleared, Emmett stood up and stretched his arms high toward the ceiling, making Bella lean back involuntarily in her seat. “Esme—mind if I go check the game?” he asked. He then looked down at Charlie. “Washington’s out and all, but North Carolina’s on tonight.” He grinned. “My brother’s pulling for Illinois, but I think NC has the best chance of beating them. Wanna come check it out, Chief?”

“Oh, please do,” Rosalie said, turning big, dewy eyes on Charlie. “He’s been on about nothing but basketball all month and it’s driving everyone crazy—please go play with him so we don’t have to hear about it.”

Emmett just laughed, and Esme said, “Of course you can—and Charlie, you go on ahead too and relax. We can finish cleaning up in here.”

To Bella’s mounting alarm, Charlie just grinned back at everyone and said, “Well, that sounds awful nice, Esme—I think I will.” And then he got up and followed Emmett and Rosalie back out into the living room, not even sparing Bella a glance as he left. And there he went, and then everyone else at the table turned to Bella.

“What did you do to him?!”

It exploded out of her, all of the tension of the evening erupting at this bizarre, concerted effort that to her was clearly a way to get her alone, by people—things—who she didn’t trust and who had tried to hurt her.

“I didn’t do anything,” Dr. Cullen said calmly, standing and moving around to come and sit in Emmett’s abandoned chair next to Jasper, and Bella was absolutely not imagining the emphasis he put on the word I, but before she could demand just what the hell that meant, he continued, “However, given the subject of our conversation last night, I thought it best that your father not be involved in tonight’s discussion—wouldn’t you agree?”

Bella’s burst of outrage burnt out quickly, leaving her only with the quiet fear that had been bubbling in her belly since last night.

“Your father is fine,” he was quick to assure her. “He was just…persuaded to step out of the room so that we can talk, now that we are in a secure location. I’m sure you have a great many questions, and we’ll do our best to address them.” He gave her a rather pointed look. “And I hope you’ll do us the courtesy of the same. Regardless of Wednesday’s unfortunate incident, we had rather gotten the impression that you’d made some connections on your own before then, and we would very much like to know what and how you found out.”

“You mean—” Bella paused, licking her lips. Saying aloud would make it so much more real—or just be confirmation that she was completely out to lunch if they had no idea what she was talking about.

She took a breath. “You mean that you’re all vampires?”

They didn’t look at her like she was nuts. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t deny it. Dr. Cullen only looked briefly down at the table, and then back up at her with the tiniest rueful quirk of his lips.

“Just so.”

Bella had to grip the table against a sudden bout of dizziness. No matter how many times she said it was real, no matter all the evidence of her own eyes and ears, each time it was reconfirmed, that the impossible was suddenly possible, her mind rebelled. Vampires weren’t real.

And yet here they were.

She nearly flew out of her chair at the sudden feel of a cool hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find Mrs. Cullen looking down at her. “Deep breaths, dear,” she said firmly, and then dragged Bella’s water glass across the table and seized her hand and put the glass into it. “Deep breaths, and take a drink.” Her eyes were still pale and terrifying (the same eyes, they all have the same weird orange eyes, I thought it was genetics, but it was something else all along), but her face was concerned. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s all right.”

It was not all right, and Bella knew it showed on her face, but she just wrapped both hands around the glass to keep it from shaking as she brought it to her mouth and took a sip. “This isn’t—” she tried, and had to stop. “This can’t be—”

“It is real, Bella,” said Mrs. Cullen, sitting down next to her in Charlie’s empty chair. “I’m sorry you had to find out about it, especially the way you did, but what’s done is done, and now we simply have to deal with the situation.”

Bella kept her death grip on her water; the chill of the glass on her palms was grounding, and she stared at the melting ice cubes and steeled herself. Questions were buzzing around in her brain, too rapidly for her to seize up on most of them, but one or two stood out. “If you’re—if you’re all—all vampires,” she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts, “but you say you won’t hurt anyone, then how do you—what do you eat?!”

“The same thing you do,” Dr. Cullen said, his answer immediate. “Animals. We live close to the forest so that we are able to hunt there freely when needed,” he went on. “I believe you may have heard from Edward that we go on ‘camping trips’ in the forest on weekends. We are in fact taking the time to prey on local animal populations.”

That…was a surprising but, in hindsight, completely obvious answer. “And that—that works?” she asked.

Dr. Cullen’s answer was accompanied by a small shrug. “It’s not an ideal substitute for…our natural diet,” he said carefully, “but it is adequate, and a small sacrifice compared to the cost of human life.”

“Emmett says that we’re vegetarians!”

Bella started again at Alice’s sudden interjection; she’d been so focused on the conversation that she’d actually forgotten that she and Jasper were still there, both listening intently.

Dr. Cullen gave a small smile. “A crude but apt comparison,” he agreed. “We have all sworn to uphold the sanctity of human life for moral reasons, so we maintain an alternative diet. Rather than prey on the locals, we cull from local deer and elk populations instead.”

Bella had a sudden flash of memory, of a dead, milky eye leering at her from under the water, of rotting meat of an open neck wound, and had to fight against her recurring vertigo. “Uh…I…I think I might actually have seen your leftovers,” she blurted.

At the raised eyebrows around the table, she shrank back, but still said, “I…Charlie fishes on weekends in the park, and I…I went with him a few weeks ago, out on the Bogachiel. There were…there were dead deer. Lots. In the water.”

The brief silence around the table was genuinely uncomfortable for all parties this time. Dr. Cullen finally broke it by clearing his throat. “That…may well have been our leavings,” he said delicately.

The continued silence was broken by a sudden overloud laugh from Charlie in the living room. Bella’s grip on her glass tightened, her knuckles turning white as her mind wheeled back to the way he acted during dinner. “What did you do to my dad?” she burst out. “And how can you say that you don’t hurt people after—after Edward—after he—”

Dr. Cullen sighed heavily. “The answer to those questions is rather complicated, but it’s also I suppose a segue into our current situation,” he said, speaking when her words deserted her. His lips quirked a little. “Do you mind a little lesson first?”

“What—Vampires 101?” She regretted the burst of sarcasm the instant it left her lips, but Dr. Cullen just smiled easily.

“If you like,” he said. “Although I will warn you that there is a great deal we don’t know—there has not exactly been a great deal of scientific study on the subject.” He rested his hands on the table, his fingers laced. “First and foremost,” he began, “is the nature of our kind.” He eyed her. “Vampires drink blood. Our family’s choices in diet aside, we are specifically designed to drink human blood. And since the preferred prey of our kind is so much more strong, intelligent, and resourceful than animals—the most dangerous game, if you will—the transformation imparts in us certain…abilities, in order to compensate.”

“Transformation?” she blurted. “Like—from biting?”

He nodded solemnly. “Again, we don’t know the specifics—we’ve only done the most rudimentary analysis ourselves, with our obviously limited resources—but there seems to be an agent or pathogen in our venom that imparts the change. I personally suspect a virus.”

“Venom?!”

“Yes,” he replied. “Our fangs are hollow and inject venom upon biting. We then drink from the resulting injury. The venom contains an anti-coagulant and leads to rapid muscle paralysis followed by slow death—with the exception of an extremely small number of cases who instead turn.”

Bella stared, her head whirling. This—there was none of the coy, dancing-around-the-subject talk from last night. Now that Bella had said the word "vampire," he was completely matter-of-fact about it, like he was discussing some sci-fi movie or indigenous mythology. “That seems to be a natural check upon our population,” he added as she continued to stare at him. “This is not Bram Stoker—very few victims of bites actually return as vampires. Although that also seems to be in part due to the fact that most victims die from exsanguination before the action of the venom. Bite victims who are not drained and thus survive the initial bite do have a marginally better chance.” His tiny smile this time was wry. “Such as myself.”

An entirely new welter of questions reared up in her head with that statement—her stomach was still knotted and her mouth dry, her heart pounding and her breath short, but that didn’t change the fact that this was still fascinating—absurd, impossible, outrageous, and all those things she’d tried to convince herself of, yes, but still fascinating. But she didn’t ask, because it was clear that Dr. Cullen was still going on.

“As I was saying, for those that do successfully come back, they are changed beyond their mere diet. The change gives us certain…advantages, inherent to our new bodies, in order to aid us in hunting our particularly difficult quarry.” He gestured to himself. “Physically, we become stronger and faster than we were before, our senses improve, and injuries heal at a truly astonishing rate. Additionally, we become…sort of our own natural lures. Our appearance changes. Physically, we become very…fine-featured, physical flaws and imperfections vanish, and we additionally seem to exude a sort of pheromone that, to be blunt, renders us extremely physically attractive to people around us.”

Bella felt her face heating uncomfortably, remembering her flushed and flustered reaction the first time she saw Emmett—and then her cheeks positively burned when she recalled her own airheaded giggling the first time she’d seen Dr. Cullen himself. Hot on the heels of this humiliation was a sick feeling of having been, well, violated—that she’d been forced to feel that way.

“There is also,” Dr. Cullen suddenly added, and Bella had the nasty feeling that he was once again well aware of her reaction and was tactfully ignoring it, “what appears to be a mental component to this. In addition to our appearance and scent, people also seem to be…slightly dazed upon first encountering a vampire. It is not particularly strong or long lasting, but there definitely seems to be a sort of…aura of fascination around us.”

“You’ve noticed that with your classmates, I imagine,” Mrs. Cullen said, and Bella nodded jerkily, recalling the slightly vacant looks of her friends at lunch when Emmett and later Alice had stopped by the table.

“Is that why people…people don’t notice…” She trailed off, because the question didn’t make sense, because how could you not notice the way they looked, the way they moved, the way it felt when they looked at you?

“To a point,” Dr. Cullen replied. “Physical appearances or pheromones or attraction aside, that does not change the fact that we, as you I’m sure are aware, do not seem quite right. It may be an instinctive prey response, or perhaps simply our uncanny nature is just that much off from normal people that it makes them uncomfortable, but I assure you, even with all of those odds against them, people are still quite inherently leery of us and will not simply walk into a vampire’s waiting jaws.” He shifted a little in his seat. “And that is why upon changing, we also develop…a little something extra.”

Mist, bats, rats—all these thoughts flitted through her mind, but here in the brightly lit house with Dr. Cullen talking so rationally and almost scientifically about the subject, made the idea of shapeshifting seem patently ridiculous. Never mind that they were talking about vampires, of course.

Almost as if reading her thoughts, Dr. Cullen said, “I’m afraid that what little scientific theory we have at this point tends to break down. The additional vampiric gifts do seem to stray into the realm of extrasensory perception and the like, pseudo-scientific ideas that are nonetheless quite real in our cases. It’s nothing so dramatic as changing shape or other things from traditional folklore, but there is no denying that vampires do seem to have almost supernatural abilities granted to them by the change.”

Bella stared at him, still uncomfortably intrigued. “Like what?”

“Well, they’re generally things that give the vampire an additional edge against his prey or over competing predators, in order to become a more effective hunter. One of the most common gifts is just that—an almost preternatural ability to track prey, bordering on precognition,” he said, sounding almost like he was reading from a textbook. “Another common ability is rather the opposite—the ability to hide or mask oneself from others, to evade detection during a hunt. Similar to, I believe, the SEP field from the Hitchhiker’s Guide?” he offered.

Bella looked blank, until, rather surprisingly, Jasper chimed in. “Or a Muggle-repelling charm, perhaps.” And that one she understood immediately.

Dr. Cullen seemed to see the recognition on her face, because he nodded, and then said, “And the third of these common gifts are enhanced variants of the natural vampiric fascination—the ability to persuade, intimidate, or otherwise compel prey to behave how the vampire wants.” He nodded toward his wife. “Both Rosalie and Esme have versions of this ability,” he said, and gave a significant glance toward the living room, where Bella could just see Charlie sitting on the couch next to Emmett.

At her obvious alarm after this statement, Mrs. Cullen immediately added, “It’s nothing permanent, and we’re honestly not at all powerful. Neither Rose nor I could make anyone do anything they truly didn’t want. We just…nudged him a little. If he had any notion that something was amiss, he’d snap right out of it.”

She relaxed slightly at this assurance, but Bella couldn’t help but notice the other words she’d said too. “Not powerful? Are…are there others like that who are more powerful?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dr. Cullen. “Just like any ability in the world, some people are going to be more talented than others.” His mouth thinned. “I have encountered a vampire who was the most powerful Compulsor I’ve ever seen—quite possibly in the world—and where she is concerned, humans will absolutely walk into her waiting jaws.”

Bella shuddered involuntarily, her stomach twisting at the sharp affirmation that yes, bright lights and modern architecture aside, she really was living in a horror movie. “Vampires like that are quite rare,” Dr. Cullen said, clearly trying to be reassuring. “Most of us are just middling in strength, and the effects can be shaken off to various extents.”

Us. Unable to help herself, she slowly asked, “What about the rest of you?”

“Ah. Well, the rest of us fall outside the usual Tracker, Mask, or Compulsor categories, with somewhat non-standard abilities,” he said with a slight smile. “I mentioned that we recover extremely quickly from injuries?” At Bella’s nod, he said, “Well, I do even faster than your average vampire. The advantage there would presumably come from being able to weather extreme damage during a hunt or in an altercation with a rival vampire.” His smile widened slightly. “However, I found it significantly more useful and rewarding when I discovered that I could employ my healing ability upon others, to some extent. That was what started my formal career in medicine.”

That…was absolutely not the kind of thing she had been expecting. It was…noble, she couldn’t help but think, to be a traditionally murdering monster but to use his powers to help people instead. She really didn’t know what to say, but Dr. Cullen didn’t seem to expect her to speak, simply indicated towards his left. “Jasper has the ability to affect mood and state of mind,” he said. Jasper looked like he was trying to smile, but couldn’t quite make his mouth cooperate. “Not to influence thoughts or direct anyone’s behavior, but he could improve his odds in a hunt by, say, sending a human into a panic to make him more likely to behave erratically—or perhaps to relax and lull them into not noticing his approach.”

Jasper looked away, and then Bella stiffened and looked back toward the living room again.

“Like I said—Rose and I are not that powerful,” Mrs. Cullen told her. “Jasper helped us to make sure your father was relaxed—more susceptible to us—and so he wouldn’t notice how tense you’ve been all evening. Not that we blame you at all, dear,” she said quickly as Bella shrank in her seat, “but if he realized he would have likely insisted that you go home—and we really did need to discuss the situation with you.”

Bella tried to nod, but she couldn’t help the awful prickly feeling running up her back. They were vampires—and they could make her do things. Mess with her mind. They weren’t like just monsters—they almost felt like aliens, bizarre and inhuman and with abilities she could barely comprehend that were a threat not just to her life, but to her self.

The silence was uncomfortable again. Dr. Cullen broke it again by offering, “Emmett doesn’t have a traditional mental ability. His advantage comes from his speed and strength—it’s rather significantly above and beyond that of the average vampire.” He huffed a little through his nose. “And that leaves Edward and Alice.”

Esme made a soft sound of amusement. “Our special children,” she said, and reached around Bella to ruffle Alice’s spiky black hair. Alice looked delighted with the moniker.

“Indeed,” Dr. Cullen said with a smile. “They do actually have very powerful abilities. Alice,” he said, gesturing toward her with his head, “is genuinely precognitive.”

Bella blinked. “You mean—” Her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the side. “You mean you see the future?!”

Alice nodded happily. “All the time!”

Bella gawped at her. What did that mean? How did that work? What did she see? She had no idea how to even begin to ask any of that, but even if she had, she never had a chance, because her attention was snapped back to Dr. Cullen when he said, “And as for Edward—he’s a telepath.”

At Bella’s stunned silence, he clarified. “He quite literally reads minds.”

Her mouth fell open in horror. What—what?! He read minds—he was in her head?! All the things she’d thought about people—about him—about herself—he’d been listening in the whole time?! The sickening feeling of violation came roaring back, her skin crawling at the horrible realization that nothing was private, that someone had been listening into her innermost thoughts—

“Bella.”

Dr. Cullen’s voice was sharp, and she started out of her horrified panic by his cool hands suddenly covering her own, stilling their shaking. “You have nothing to worry about. He has never once read your thoughts,” he said firmly, holding her gaze with his own.

“How do you know that?!” she demanded.

He gave an almost tired sigh. “And that brings us back around to our original point, of how exactly you were able to discern the cracks in our façade when no one else has,” he said. He squeezed her hands. “I know that Edward has never read your mind because he can’t.”

She stilled beneath his squeezing hands and earnest stare.

“Literally,” Dr. Cullen continued. “He is completely unable to read anything from you whatsoever. For whatever reason, you seem to be immune to his ability.”

The relief that washed through her was so intense that she slumped in her seat. He wasn’t in my head.

Dr. Cullen noticed, and smiled a bit wryly. “And it isn’t just him, either. That fascination effect we have on your classmates—can you honestly say you’ve ever felt that way around any of us?”

Her mind flashed back to her fatuous stupidity in the ER—but no, that wasn’t the same. That was only that one time, and it wasn’t the dazed, almost drunk behavior she’d witnessed in the past every time a Cullen spoke to someone at school—or to Charlie.

“We’ve all noticed. You’re much more…jumpy around us than anyone else in town,” Jasper said, his voice soft.

Dr. Cullen nodded. “Additionally, Jasper himself has a measure of low-grade empathy as part of his gift, and he can't read you either. And for a more direct experimental control—Jasper has been relaxing your father?” he said, and at Bella's quick glance and nod, he continued. “As something of a test, he tried the same thing on you this evening during dinner.”

Her mouth fell open and she involuntarily jerked back in her seat. Dr. Cullen’s voice was dry when he spoke again: “You are obviously not the slightest bit relaxed.”

She took another shaky drink from her glass before setting it aside. “So—what? I’m just—just immune? How?”

Mrs. Cullen exhaled through her nose. “Honestly? We have no idea. We’ve never encountered someone like you before, and to our knowledge, neither has anyone else,” she said.

“If I may speculate,” Dr. Cullen said, “I have considered the notion that it may have something to do with your medical history.” And he tapped his right temple.

Her hand reflexively went to the side of her own head, and then her eyes widened. “You think it’s because of the plate in my head?!”

“Again, it’s only a theory,” he answered, holding up his hands. “Obviously I have encountered people with similar surgical implants before, and I don’t recall noticing a difference, but I also didn’t test it—it’s possible we have met people who were similarly unaffected but didn’t realize it. You were simply in the unique situation where we could clearly identify and assess your apparent immunity.” He shrugged slightly. “It may be your implant, the injury itself, or it may be something inherent about you—but my theory does make a certain degree of sense, given that you seem specifically resistant to the direct-acting mental abilities.”

He paused briefly. “I won’t speculate as to your susceptibility to our physical attractions,” he continued delicately, and Bella’s face burned, “but I feel quite confident that Emmett could still lift you one-handed—and more to the point, Alice has definitely witnessed future events involving you.”

Bella started, and whirled to look at Alice. “What? I—future—what?!”

“It’s not fortune-telling, dear,” said Mrs. Cullen, sounding amused. “Alice simply Sees many possible future events based on what happens during the present. And given that you’ve managed to suss out certain things about us, you’ve begun to feature from time to time in what Alice Sees.”

“You may remember that Edward got a phone call on Wednesday afternoon?” Jasper said. Bella stared; this time the tiny smile on his face seemed real as he looked at Alice. “That was her.” He turned to look at Bella, going solemn again. “She Saw what was about to happen, and called him to stop it.”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at Alice.

Alice just looked back, all wide-eyed and earnest. “I couldn’t let you get hurt,” she said.

“I—” Bella started, and then stopped. Yes, Edward had gotten a phone call—right when he was about to eat her. The call stopped him.

Alice had saved her life.

“…Thank you,” she choked out.

Alice smiled—not the creepy grin she used at school, or the tiny one from earlier, but a wide, genuine, opened-mouthed smile that looked like she was caught mid-laugh. “You’re welcome!”

Bella’s hands were shaking again, and she knotted her fingers together and looked at the table top. Everyone remained silent; Bella could hear the TV in the other room, and Emmett and Charlie murmuring in low voices.

After a moment Dr. Cullen spoke again. “Well—so now you know the first issue that brought us to our current situation: your apparent invulnerability to so many vampiric gifts.” Bella looked back up as he spoke, listening. “The second is, I am sorry to say, our own complacency and what we have only just realized was an over-reliance on those gifts in order to maintain our secrecy,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “We have always used our abilities—Edward's in particular—to alert us when someone might have seen something suspicious and to gently guide them away from it and push them to forget about it. Given that, it had always seemed that we had covered our tracks sufficiently, but I think the fact that you’re here makes it more than plain that we have not.”

Mrs. Cullen nodded. “Even though he can’t read you, Edward had noticed that you had become suddenly suspicious of him,” she said. “He said he’d made a few mistakes around you in the past that he thought you might have noticed, like knowing something he shouldn’t, or maybe that you realized he was able to use his gift and his speed and strength to save you from your car accident at school or deal with that mugger in Port Angeles.” Bella jolted in her seat, her mind once again frantically spinning through all their previous interactions, looking for anything that didn't add up (and she was right about him throwing that guy).

Mrs. Cullen gave a somewhat wry smile to Bella's wide-eyed look. “Well, it obviously wasn’t either of those,” she said, “but something definitely seemed to have spooked you. So we tweaked your truck a little to give us the opportunity to speak to you away from school—for which we are sorry, by the way," she said when Bella jumped again, although this time in vindication. "And since Edward also knows you best of us, it fell to him to try and see if he could feel out what you may have known and convince you otherwise by more traditional means.” Her mouth twisted, and she added, “In hindsight that was not the best decision.”

“I’ll say,” came a snort from the side, and Bella looked up to see Emmett ambling into the room, headed toward the kitchen. “Ed sucks,” he told her cheerfully. “He probably was all stiff and weird, wasn’t he?” he sniggered as he passed by.

Mrs. Cullen gave his retreating back a severe look, but Bella felt an absurd urge to laugh. She knew part of it was probably that low-level hysteria she’d been suffering from since Wednesday, and a pressure-release from all the tension tonight, but at the same time, Emmett was right: that was exactly how Edward had been—how he always had been.

Dr. Cullen just sighed heavily. “And that, I suppose, brings us to the third issue that we need to discuss.” He smiled at her again, but this time he looked tired. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but the unfortunate fact is that you are a convergence of two extremely rare coincidences; either one we likely could have dealt with alone, but both together, and…well.”

Bella tensed again, any levity gone in the face of his ominous pronouncement. Dr. Cullen took a deep breath before speaking. “Again, this is another topic that we simply do not know a great deal about. But generally speaking, humans, to us, smell…like food,” he said, sounding apologetic. “And just like with any food, some humans smell better than others, and differently so to different vampires. In general, a person’s appeal to a vampire seems to be in part tied to their potential for their additional abilities upon turning, with the most universally appealing humans being those who will develop the most powerful gifts. However, even among individual vampires, some people just are more to their—forgive me, to their tastes than others.”

He shifted a little in his seat as though uncomfortable, before continuing. “But, it seems that on very rare occasions, a vampire will come across a particular person who goes beyond smelling merely…appetizing, but whose scent is so outrageously powerful and enticing that it can drive them to the verge of madness, wiping out all rational thought and leaving nothing behind but the instinct to feed.”

Bella just looked at him, and then her jaw went suddenly slack at the dawning realization of what he was saying hit her. “You mean I—that Edward—that he—”

Dr. Cullen was nodding, his mouth a grim line. “My family has excellent self-control—we must, in order to function as we do, surrounded by people and part of society,” he said. “I work in a hospital; I am around blood all day. And even at a school, there are endless cuts and scrapes and injuries in the vicinity. If we did not maintain this restraint, we would not live as we do for fear of being a danger to others. But even then, it seems we were still unprepared.” He paused and seemed to gather himself. “I won’t lie to you, Bella—Edward would never willingly hurt anyone, but the moment you sat next to him in class, and your scent hit him—”

He closed his eyes briefly, and then looked back up at her. “You had a very narrow escape.”

Bella curled in on herself, the simmer of fear in her belly boiling up as her mind flashed through a reel of memories from that first day, of his panting, his drooling, his hand reaching for her—

“I don’t know how he did it.” She looked up to see Emmett standing in the kitchen entrance, a glass of water in his hand and an uncharacteristically sober look on his face. “He was crazy with it, but he sat through the whole class with you right there,” he said, shaking his head, and then looked back at her. “He got it under control, obviously, but then the other night when you cut yourself, and there was all that fresh blood…” He trailed off, gave her a sad sort of shrug, and then turned to go back to the living room.

Bella looked back down at the table. “You see, Bella—Edward doesn’t want to hurt you,” Mrs. Cullen said gently. “He never did—but…it was just too much for him.”

“Again, please let me convey his sincerest apologies to you,” Dr. Cullen said. “He wants nothing more than to apologize to you himself, but given the circumstances, he thought that you would rather he kept well away. But,” he finished, “it was still in the end an unfortunate accident, and he is deeply sorry.”

Bella had trouble meeting his eyes, but after a moment, she was able to give a short nod.

Mrs. Cullen patted her shoulder, and she managed not to flinch at her touch. “Well, that’s the whole sordid mess, dear,” she said. “We feel dreadful that you had to find out about it all, but, well, here we are.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dr. Cullen. “Now, I know it’s a great deal for you to take in, but now that we’ve explained ourselves, I still have to ask you to tell us what exactly it was that tipped you off about us.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, and then took another sip from her sweaty water glass. “Well, I—I told Edward about that picture,” she said slowly.

“The one of the three of them at the school, yes.”

“Yeah, the one—wait.” Her eyes went wide. “So that—that really was them?”

Dr. Cullen nodded easily, and even after everything, it turned out it was still possible for Bella to feel the world lurching beneath her. “We lived here for a time in the late Thirties and through the Forties,” he said.

That picture was from 1942. That meant—that meant Edward was over sixty years old.

That also meant… “Did you do that to the police station?!”

To her surprise, Dr. Cullen actually seemed to blush. “Ah, well.” He coughed once into his fist, and then said, “We…couldn’t have photographic evidence displayed in so public a place. It was…a crude effort, but the only thing we could manage on such short notice.”

Bella knew she was still staring at him in complete disbelief (which was ridiculous given everything that he’d been telling her all evening), and he hastened to add, “We made an anonymous donation to the police department to cover the costs. We would have never taken such measures if we thought we had another choice.”

There was an awkward silence, which this time Bella forced herself to break. “Well…that was…actually kind of suspicious. To me, anyway,” she said. “I told Edward about it, and he…acted all weird, and then the very next day it got vandalized?”

Dr. Cullen sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but we had to do something. This is, admittedly, the first time that we have lived in the same place twice, and we were clearly caught unprepared.”

Bella rubbed a figure eight in the wet ring left by her glass. “I…don’t know that it’ll be much good in the long run, though,” she pointed out to the tabletop. “That picture and the others are all in a digital archive—”

“Others?”

Bella started a little at the sharp question, and looked up to find Dr. Cullen staring at her, his eyebrows lifted in shock. “Um, yeah,” she said licking her lips. “Just…just the one picture was weird, but it wasn’t enough to make me think anything too crazy. It was just when I found the other ones, and the news articles…”

Her voice petered out as she found herself the sudden target of four alarmed stares (well, three alarmed stares and Alice).

“…Good Heavens,” said Dr. Cullen faintly. “This is more serious than we thought.”

Bella felt the need to clarify. “I didn’t—I didn’t ever guess that you were…vampires,” she said, forcing herself to say that word again. “Not until Edward…you know.” She waved her hand vaguely. “I just…I just found enough things about you from the Forties that I thought…well, I don’t know what I thought, but it just seemed like too much to be a coincidence.”

There were several sharp, meaningful glances exchanged around the table, and then Dr. Cullen leaned forward. “Bella, I need you to tell me exactly what you found and where you found it.”

She didn’t know that she could feel simultaneously embarrassed and vindicated at the same time when she admitted, “Well, I…I actually have copies of everything. Back home.”

He sat back, surprised. “I see. Could you show me what you have?”

“Uh…I guess?”

He looked at Mrs. Cullen and nodded once. “Excellent. Esme and I are on shift this weekend, and the rest will be on the usual hunting trip, but Esme is off on Monday and I don’t work until that evening. You can come back here with your work then,” he told her.

“Wait—what?” she asked, struggling to catch up.

“We need to see the results of your sleuthing as soon as possible, Bella,” he said firmly. “You remember what else we discussed yesterday?”

Bella, who had been about to protest being dragged back to the vampire nest again, shut her mouth with a snap. “Dealt with,” he’d said…

“Why?” she blurted. “Why do you—who says you have to be secret—who are they?”

The looks around the table this time were cagey, and they seemed to be communicating silently. “That,” Dr. Cullen said slowly, “is a very dangerous subject. And could be another very long conversation.” He looked seriously at her. “We will tell you what you want to know…but perhaps not this evening?” he suggested. “We have given you a great deal to mull over, and I suspect that after you’ve had time to think on it, you’ll have many more questions of your own. But it's getting late; why don’t we adjourn until Monday when you can show us what you’ve found.”

Bella half wanted to protest…but he wasn’t wrong. She’d been tense all day—and the day before. And weirdly enough, even after hearing all the outrageous, impossible things they’d told her, she realized that she was actually beginning to relax.

Dr. Cullen’s serious expression softened somewhat, and he placed a careful hand back over hers again; his fingers were soft and cool, and she swallowed. “You have had a very stressful few days. You should rest and enjoy your Easter weekend, and we’ll be happy to answer any questions that we can on Monday. And in exchange,” he added, “can we count on your continued silence?”

That, at least, she could answer with a decisive nod, and he smiled and said, “Very good.”

And that seemed to be that. Mrs. Cullen patted her shoulder again and then bustled off into the living room, and in no time at all Charlie appeared in the dining room, looking perfectly all right but remarking on the time and saying that they should probably head home. The rest of the Cullens all filed in after him, and Bella once again felt that uncomfortable press of all the eyes—of all the vampires—around her, and realized that she really was the only one who felt it that way. Charlie was still smiling and accommodating, and seemed thrilled when Dr. Cullen said that he hoped he didn’t mind, but that Alice invited Bella over to visit on Monday (“Yes, Chief Swan!” Alice had exclaimed, springing over to stand in front of him. “I want her to come visit! She likes my music!”), and tripped over himself to agree when Mrs. Cullen and Rosalie informed him that it was so wonderful to see Alice making friends at school (only this time Bella knew what they were doing, even though she couldn’t do anything about it but watch in outrage, which earned her a dirty look from Rosalie), and then Alice was announcing that she would come pick her up on Monday morning and Charlie thought that was just a great idea.

Well. It seemed she was coming back to the Cullen house whether she wanted to or not.

Chapter Text

The weekend passed all-too-quickly. Bella still had a bit of trouble falling asleep on Friday night, even with the vase full of roses perched on her windowsill, but once she did drift off, she slept like a log, even through the racket of Charlie’s early-morning shower. Saturday was the usual game day, of course, but fortunately the fact that she slept until eleven wasn’t a problem.

Turned out that at least one good thing came out of Charlie’s anxiety over her behavior since Wednesday: he’d arranged for Billy and Jacob to be in charge of game-day food this week so she could have a break. They brought over a big mess of fajitas with all the trimmings, and all she had to do was pop the frozen apple pie they brought into the oven. Billy also kicked Jacob into the kitchen to help her serve it, too. She’d been quiet during the game, and apparently Charlie wasn’t the only one who noticed that she was still on the fragile side.

“You okay?” Jacob had asked, nudging her with his elbow as he set a container of vanilla ice cream on the counter. “Picking on you isn’t any fun if you just sit there and take it.”

She sighed, setting her knife on the counter. “I just—I just had a rough week,” she said lamely, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I messed up my hand, and that messed up all my school stuff, and I just…” I almost got eaten, vampires are real, and now they might be coming after me—kinda puts a crimp in a girl’s style, you know?

“Sucks, man,” was Jacob’s version of sympathy. “Lemme see.” He cradled her hand in his own big brown one and tugged at the tape on her bandage.

“Oh, come on! Hells Bells, is that all?!”

Surprised, she looked at her uncovered hand—she’d been due to change her bandages this evening and hadn’t looked since the night before last—and found that it did look better. Way better—pale and already closing on the edges, and really only still red around her stitches. “Why you gotta be such a pussy?” Jacob said, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment.

Indignant, she snatched her hand back. “It didn’t look like that when it happened!” she snapped, pressing her bandage down again. “With blood all over me and—” she choked back on any mention of teeth, but her face was hot and she felt dangerously close to crying, which just made her angry.

“Hey, hey,” Jacob said, suddenly soothing. “You’re right, that gets a pass.” He looped one long arm around her shoulders and reeled her in, and her anger evaporated as she was pressed tightly against his solid side. “Lots of blood makes it badass.”

She huffed into his shirt. “What is with you and wanting me to have all these gruesome injuries for you to look at? What are you, nine?”

“Pretty much,” he said, with his usual irrepressible good humor. “I’ll go out and catch you a frog or a really gross bug to cheer you up, if you want.”

Bella couldn’t help but snort, and after a squeeze on her shoulder, Jacob let her go to get to cutting up the warm pie while he scooped out ice cream to go on top.

With no looming homework, there hadn’t been much to do in the evening afterwards; she and Charlie had eaten sandwiches for a light dinner and poked around on the TV, but there wasn’t much on, and despite Bella’s hard sleep the night before, she was still worn out from the three days of constant terror, so she got sleepy fairly early. She showered, changed her bandages, and went to bed.

Sunday, of course, was Easter. Once Bella had had her first Communion, both of her parents and more or less slacked off in the churchgoing department. Renée had pretty much completely lapsed after Bella had been Confirmed, while Charlie had settled into classic Chreaster mode. When she’d been living with Renée and visited Forks on Christmas, Charlie would always take her to Midnight Mass. But now that she was in Forks full-time, it was Easter services. Charlie skipped out on his fishing, and that morning found them scrubbed up and off to church.

Afterwards, Charlie had taken her to the store where they had promptly stocked up on ice cream bars and discount Easter candy so that, as he’d said with a twinkle in his eye, they could make up for all that sinning they’d been putting off. Bella had managed a genuine grin, and they’d gone home for leftover fajitas and lots of chocolate, and then whiled away the day by breaking out the first season of “Bewitched.”

Bella had calmed down considerably during Mass; since learning that vampires were real, she honestly couldn’t think of any place that had felt safer, even if she was still questioning just how effective the whole consecrated ground thing would be as a deterrent (though that hadn’t stopped her from leaving her cross necklace on since Friday). But throughout the rest of the afternoon, her anxiety had slowly ramped back up, knowing that her weekend was coming to an end, and the week would start back up not with school, but with still more vampires. Even Renée noticed during their Sunday call, and Bella had had to try and fake being worn out after exams; it was easier to do over the phone than in person with Charlie, but it was something of a relief to finally hang up, and then shower and go to bed.

And then it was Monday. Renée had made noises about her possibly coming to visit during the break, but their schedules hadn’t synched up and Bella had come to regret that in the extreme in the past few days. So here she was, stuck in Forks and going to be left alone for days. Charlie was back to work, but he’d promised to take Thursday and Friday off to spend with her during her break. But that still left her three long days to sit at home and stew.

Charlie awakened her with his shower as usual, but she’d still been dozy enough that she’d managed to drift back to sleep before he left. She was awakened again later, this time by her cell phone. Blinking furiously to try and get some moisture onto her sticky eyes, she fumbled around on her nightstand until she found it.

“Hello?” she rasped.

“Bella!”

She was suddenly wide awake. “…Alice?”

“Yes! It’s Monday morning!”

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, cursing Charlie for giving out her phone number Friday night when Alice asked for it, and then shifting her cursing over to the vampires that she just knew had made him do it. “Um…yes?”

“You need to get up! I’m coming to get you! You’ll be ready! Goodbye!”

And then she hung up.

Bella was left to stare at her phone in disbelief, and then to scramble up and out of bed to get herself into some semblance of order, collect her thumb drive and her folder full of not-so-crazy, and then sit in the living room to fret. Although there wasn’t much time for that last one, because she’d only been sitting for a minute or two when she’d been scared to death by a sudden, incessant hammering on the front door.

A look out of the peephole had revealed that yes, it was Alice Cullen, and she was knocking rapidly on the door and didn’t appear to be letting up any time soon. Bella took a deep breath and unlocked the door; the knocking abruptly ceased at the sound, and then she swung it open to find Alice bouncing on the porch and beaming at her. She was wearing a yellow off-the-shoulder blouse that Bella and her bust couldn't have managed in a million years, the long sheer sleeves covered with tiny fabric flowers; there was a white, broad-brimmed straw hat on her head and a pair of blue teashades perched on her nose.

“Bella!” she cried happily, and then pushed past her and waltzed right in the house without so much as a by-your-leave—which Bella particularly noticed, given the circumstances. Alice spun around, taking all the room in, and then made a beeline for the wall of all of Bella’s school pictures, pushing her nose up the glass on each frame.

Bella was left shuffling nervously in her own living room as Alice made a thorough inspection of her pictures.

“I like your hair best now.”

“Um…thanks?” Bella said after a moment.

“Do you feel your hair curling when you get a perm?”

“…no. You don’t feel anything in your hair.”

“Oh! Just like us!” Alice looked pleased. Then she immediately wanted to know, “Do you feel your teeth moving when you have those braces on?”

Bella blinked. “Uh…no, not really. It’s…it’s too slow. It just…it just hurts.”

Alice wrinkled her nose. “Does it matter so much to have straight teeth?”

Bella fidgeted awkwardly. “Um…yeah, I guess. It’s kind of a big deal not to have crooked teeth, and it…does help some, uh, physical things. I didn’t have much of a chin before I had mine.”

Alice’s eyes went wide. “Really?!” And she was instantly in Bella’s face.

Bella jerked back involuntarily, and then it was Alice’s turn to blink up at her, and then there was that tiny smile of hers. “Sorry,” she said, and then her eyes caught on the folder in Bella’s hand. “Oh—are those the pictures?”

Bella nodded, and Alice gave a decisive nod back. “Let’s go home then—Carlisle wants to see them,” she said, and then latched on to Bella’s arm and started dragging her toward the door.

There was a brief scuffle as Bella had to wrangle her way out of Alice’s vise-like grip to get her jacket and her wallet and pepper spray, and another after she’d been hauled outside so she could stop and lock the front door, and then she was deposited next to the passenger-side door of not the familiar SUV, but instead a little round yellow Beetle.

She gingerly slid inside, surprised to find that while it was still as clean and shiny as the SUV and the Mustang she’d been in before, this one was decidedly not sterile and impersonal. There were, in fact, fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror, and what looked like Mardi Gras beads too. The seats and the steering wheel had thick, furry purple covers on them, with lines of purple pompom trim all around the radio and the console and the gauges. Rhinestone leaves and flowers sparkled from where they were attached to the vents, and the gearshift knob looked like a giant diamond. There was a furry Garfield hanging from one back window, a fuzzy green frog from the other, and some kind of sign hanging on the back window. There was a wobbly hula girl and a bobble-head chihuahua stuck to the dashboard in front of the passenger’s seat, while a row of round little animals on suction cups marched in line behind the steering wheel.

Bella blinked at this riot of color, and then Alice started the car and immediately started fiddling with the radio, almost bouncing in her seat. She bopped through the tracks with manic speed before finally setting on one and turning to stare at Bella again, her eyes bright.

Bella jumped a little at the volume as the tiny car was suddenly filled with the familiar (and very loud) synth riff of “Sweet Dreams.” But even this reaction seemed to thrill Alice. “You like my music!” she crowed in delight. “No one else does!”

And without waiting for an answer, she threw the car in gear, and Bella found herself thrown forward as the car went flying backwards out of the drive and into the street.

What followed was perhaps the most harrowing car ride of Bella’s entire life as Alice went tearing through town, barreling through intersections and careening around corners like she was in the Indy 500. Any exhortations to slow down, that they were going to get a ticket, were met with a cheerful, “No, I won’t! I’d See it!” and Bella was left to hold on for dear life.

They made it through town and back at the Cullen house in half the time Bella and Charlie had taken to get there last week. By the time they’d screeched to a halt in one of the garage bays behind the house, Bella had sworn up and down that she would never again mock Renée and Charlie for the way they had mashed the imaginary brake all the time back when she was learning to drive. She was surprised she hadn’t stomped a hole in the floor.

Alice didn’t notice how frazzled she was—she just killed the car and hopped out, leaving Bella to follow much more slowly. She peered around as she stepped out; the garage was huge, with three other cars parked inside. One was the red Mustang she remembered from Port Angeles. There was a large off-road Jeep, and then far at the end was an old 1930s Ford that looked to be in the process of being worked on. And beyond the car bays, there was a wide-open space that was clearly a workshop of sorts, filled with neatly sorted tools and equipment.

“Come on, Bella!”

She jumped, drawn back from her curious peeking at the garage into the real reason she was here by Alice’s call, and so she trudged after her. Alice closed the garage door with one of a series of buttons by the side door, and then she turned out the lights as they left the garage and went out into the wet misty morning.

Alice took them around the back of the house; there was a large, multi-leveled deck that wrapped all around the back, and a covered pool and hot tub, and landscaping that was precisely manicured to the point of looking almost staged. Alice ignored all this, just trotted up the various sets of steps past a firepit and seating area and led them to a large sliding glass door flanked by more windows.

She flung it open and hopped inside. “We’re back!” she called to the house at large, shedding her hat and glasses as she went.

Bella followed her in with extreme reluctance. The house was even brighter in the misty light of late morning, and she took in the mellow gleam of the wood floors, the 1940s-style furniture, the glossy black baby grand piano further back in the corner, and all the in-set shelves and cabinets that lined the room. Much like the back yard—and the SUV, for that matter—it was painfully neat and sparse to the point of sterility, with only minimal décor tucked in the shelves, generic prints on the walls, and a few artfully arranged books on the coffee table. It looked almost like it was a staged house for a magazine, not a place where people actually lived.

Well, she supposed, one could argue that “people” technically didn’t.

“Ah, Bella.”

She turned to find Dr. Cullen emerging from beyond the staircase, from a hallway that led back further into the house. “Good morning, my dear.”

She swallowed a bit before finding her voice. Some small part of her thought that Granny Marie must be proud, to know that her strict regimen of manners actually seemed to be winning the battle with her own self-preservation instinct. “Um, hello, Dr. Cullen.”

He smiled. “I think at this point it’s quite all right to call me Carlisle,” he told her, and the held out his hand towards hers. “May I see?”

It took her a moment to catch up, but she offered him her bandaged hand when she realized what he was after. He peeled back the bandage to look at her injury much as Jacob had done. “Excellent,” he said, and then pressed it between his own. “I think we can dispense with the bandage from now on,” he said, as Bella grew increasingly uncomfortable at the way he was chafing her hand between his palms. “This should be cleared up by tomorrow; I can remove the stitches today, if you’d like.”

“Oh—uh—I think I was supposed to let them dissolve on their own,” she managed.

He smiled again. “Normally, yes, but I think this one is being helped along enough that you don’t need to wait.”

She just looked at him, baffled, and then down at his rubbing hands—and then suddenly felt her eyes go wide as she realized. “Are you—are you doing that—using your—”

“My ability, yes,” His smile edged almost into a smirk and he gave her a friendly wink, and there was a tiny, traitorous flip in her stomach, just an echo of her day in the ER. “Follow me and we can take care of those, and then we can get to business.”

He led her down the same wide hallway where he had come from to a bright white and green bathroom, just as painfully neat and bland as the rest of the house. Still, they did seem to have some normal supplies in the house, or maybe it was just because he was a doctor, as he opened the medicine cabinet and quickly drew out tiny surgical scissors and forceps. After washing her hands, Dr. Cullen—Carlisle—pulled out all her stitches quickly and nearly painlessly, and then gave her a quick alcohol swab and a dab of vitamin E oil and pronounced her fit as a fiddle.

She followed him back out into the living room; Alice had vanished the moment they’d come into the house, but now she was back, and the rest of them were starting to filter in from various parts of the house. Emmett and Rosalie were coming down the stairs, and Jasper was trailing Alice from further back in the house.

Mrs. Cullen came bustling out of the kitchen through the dining room. “Bella, dear—thank you for coming back to see us again,” she said, and came right up and took her chin in her hand and gave her an assessing look, her grip keeping Bella from cringing backwards. “Hmm—you’ve clearly slept better since the last time you were here, that’s good.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” she said, since she was unable to nod.

“None of your father’s ‘ma’am’ nonsense,” she said, releasing her. “Just Esme will do. Come along,” she said, steering her toward the dining room again, and the others followed. “Come have a seat and something to drink.”

Bella let herself be dragged along, but her eyes keep darting around the room. They were all here, all but one, and surely he’d be coming around a corner any moment—

“He’s still hiding.”

She looked at Emmett in surprise, and he grinned down at her. “Edward,” he clarified. “He took off the minute Alice pulled onto the drive so you didn’t have to see him. He’s probably out skulking in the bushes behind the house.”

Esme gave an exasperated huff through her nose as she directed Bella toward the same chair she’d sat in the night before. “Emmett, will you stop picking on your brother? He feels bad enough as it is.”

Emmett rolled his eyes, dragging a chair around to the far end of the table and plopping down in it backwards. “Feeling bad is one thing—but Ed's gone so far beyond that he's practically wearing a hair shirt. And a fiberglass dickey,” he added, rolling his eyes again, this time in Bella’s direction. “Seriously—it’s self-flagellation the likes of which we haven’t seen since the 13th century.”

Rosalie snorted. “Well, it is his favorite pastime,” she snipped.

Bella didn’t know what to say to this, just settled for putting her folder on the table in front of her in awkward silence.

Carlisle again took the seat across from her; the rest all crowded in in the spaces around her, giving her a distinctly trapped feeling. Esme returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, which Bella took gratefully to wet her dry mouth.

Carlisle seemed to notice her unease. “Please—this isn’t an interrogation,” he said kindly. “I know that we make you nervous, and I am sorry for that, but we all just want to know exactly what missteps we made that you managed to find.” He glanced down at the folder. “I believe you said that your first clue was the photograph in the police station?” he prompted.

Bella squared her shoulders and nodded, and then flipped open her folder and slid her copies of the picture out and across the table, both the full image and the zoomed in one she’d printed as well. The original picture had been good quality and the digital archives had been quite high-res; Edward was plainly visible in the image.

“I just saw it by accident,” she said. “Dad and I had stopped off at the police station, and he was taking a phone call and I went out into the foyer and…well, there it was.”

Carlisle peered at the images briefly and then handed them around the table. Emmett grunted as he looked over Rosalie’s shoulder. “I think I remember this,” he said. “Wasn’t that when we’d just won the regional baseball championship and Mr. Hightower let us all eat lunch outside?”

“Mmhmm,” Rosalie agreed, and Bella couldn’t help but feel vaguely dazed, hearing them talk about a picture from 1942 as if it had been yesterday, because they had been there.

Carlisle brought her attention back to the subject at hand. “Now, you said this was only what started your interest, but not enough to rouse any particular suspicion?” he asked.

She nodded. “It—it was weird, sure, but I mostly blew it off, because—well, because I thought it was impossible,” she said, feeling unaccountably sheepish. “I—I’d pretty well forgotten all about it until the next day in biology when…uh, well, when Edward was doing that same thing he always does in the picture, where he kinda…” she trailed off and tugged at the back of her own neck, letting the gesture speak for her. Carlisle’s lips quirked. “So I—I mentioned it, kind of as a joke, but he—he didn’t think it was funny. He got all really serious about it and then ran off at the end of class,” she said.

Rosalie made a disgusted noise, and Carlisle gave her a quelling look. “Yes—again, as I mentioned before, we have become rather over-reliant on our abilities—all of us,” he said with a pointed look at Rosalie. “It was a bit of a shock when you mentioned it—we had not been aware of any such evidence of our previous tenure here, and normally Edward would have been able to pick up such thoughts from anyone who might have noticed.” He sighed. “I gather his reaction only spurred you further?”

Now she just felt embarrassed, even though she’d done nothing wrong. “Well…kinda,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t like I immediately thought he was hiding something, he was always—” She faltered, halting the words she’d been about to say as she remembered where she was, who she was talking to, and why exactly Edward was the way he was. She took a sip of water and tried again with more tact. “Edward would…act strange, from time to time, so I really didn’t think too much about it either. But then I was going to my locker after school, and you know how they have all the senior pictures in the hallways?” she asked, looking over at those who went to school too, and received nods in reply. “Well, I kinda figured what the heck, and looked to see if I could find the boy in the picture there too.”

She filled in the story, showing them the copy of the conspicuously missing yearbook pictures of the students with the same names of those at the table, and how she had been about to write it all off when she’d suddenly found the picture that she swore was Emmett.

“Shit,” Emmett said sourly as he looked at the aged picture of himself at the football game from sixty years ago, earning a disapproving look from Esme.

She continued on, with how it was the sudden vandalization had actually made her truly suspicious, and how she’d whiled away some time at the library, that there had been no past Cullens in the town to speak of, despite Edward later trying to convince her that there were, and of instead finding archived newspapers with those same names from the yearbook, and of Carlisle too, and then ending with the picture of Esme.

Esme gave the picture a hard look, her mouth tight, and then looked up at Emmett with a sharp breath through her nose. “Shit,” she said, and he snorted.

“And…well, that’s all,” Bella said, feeling a bit lame. It really was a flimsy collection—why else had she spent so long trying to talk herself out of reading anything into it?

But the vampires around the table didn’t seem to think so. They were all poring over every picture and exchanging meaningful glances, and she heard Jasper murmuring to Carlisle that they would have to do a deep dive into the Historical Society archives to find anything else and get rid of it, and Bella couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Why?”

They all looked up at her. “Why is this—why does this have to be such a big secret?” she asked.

There was a tense silence.

As Bella was finding was often the case, Carlisle spoke first. “Because it’s the law,” he said.

“…the law?”

“Yes. Imperial Vampire Law.”

Bella stared at him, her jaw flapping. “There’s a vampire empire?!”

Emmett snorted again, and even Carlisle’s mouth twitched a little. “Not exactly—I think the name is a pretty bit of conceit that’s held over from their Roman roots.” Before she had a chance to process that piece of information, Carlisle continued. “Rather, there is a loosely organized network of vampire governors under the central authority of the Imperium. The governors tend to be located in central, often metropolitan areas and serve both to provide aid and resources to passing vampires, as well as to police their behavior and enforce Imperial law.”

Bella swallowed. “The law that…that deals with people?”

Carlisle’s mouth tightened. “The very one.” He blew a breath from his nose before continuing. “In reality, there is very little by way of law on how vampires deal with each other—the law, as it stands, is primarily involved with maintaining our secrecy.”

“…Why?” she couldn’t help but ask. “All the…all the things you told me…it doesn’t seem like you need to be secret.”

“Honestly? I think it is motivated by fear, of humans and what they would do if they knew about us. Abilities or no, we are nonetheless vastly outnumbered,” Carlisle said with a shrug. “You are quite correct in pointing out our natural advantages, and that we are such an integral part of folklore makes it clear that we were not always so secretive. But the fact is that in the early seventeen hundreds, there was a sudden edict by the Imperial Heads for our kind to go underground.”

Carlisle seemed pensive. “I’m not sure what motivated it,” he admitted, “perhaps the expanding human population, or the technological advancements, or the fact that more and more vampires were being killed by humans—there was a particularly large spate of vampire killings in Eastern Europe at the time—regardless of the circumstances, it was suddenly decided that vampires should no longer mingle with humans, but should fall instead into the realm of myth. The Imperium decreed that vampires should distance themselves from humans and hide their true nature. Feedings should be more carefully disguised as deaths by other means, and a push to hide our weaknesses and spread false propaganda among humans about us was made—they took advantage of the burgeoning age of reason that was taking hold at the time, and vampires were soon relegated to the realm of superstition.”

He stopped for a moment and looked at his hands resting on the table. “That was also the point wherein it was decided that humans who knew too much should be eliminated,” he said. “There was a draconian sweep across all of Europe then, murdering anyone who had had verifiable direct interaction with us. My protests against this brutality was one of the reasons that I am so despised among most vampires.”

Bella just listened, rapt, to this bizarre alternate history of the world that he was spinning for her—and so it took her a moment to fully register what he just said. “Wait—seventeen hundreds—you were there?!”

Her shock earned her an indulgent smile. “I was born in 1642, Bella,” he said gently, leaving her gaping. “And yes—in an effort to learn more about what I was, I visited the Imperial seat in 1726, right about the time when vampires were going underground.” His smile vanished, and he looked down again for a moment before looking back at her. “I will be honest with you—our chief concern in the matter of your discovering what we are is your safety. But for the sake of transparency, I must tell you that we too are in a measure of danger due to your knowledge.”

“Because…because you have to stay secret?” she ventured.

“To a point,” Carlisle said. “If we were any other vampires and someone discovered what we were and we did not…deal with the issue ourselves, the Imperium would step in and we would be reprimanded in some fashion. But we are not just any vampires,” he said. “I made quite a pest of myself during my visit to the Imperium, openly questioning and later protesting their treatment of humans. But it was not only that,” he said, his voice grim. “You see, I was the first vampire they had encountered that had chosen to feed on animals, rather than people. My choices…disgusted them.”

“Because you didn’t want to kill people?!”

“Most vampires don’t see it that way,” he answered simply. “To them, we are vampires, and humans are food, and that is all there is to it. And with the nature of feeding being what it is…my choices to feed on animals was regarded as a perversion, and my defense of humans as almost a betrayal, as though I was fighting against my own kind.” He sighed. “I was, I am sorry to say, singularly ineffectual in my attempts to sway them to my way of thinking. I would not say that I am a genuine persona non grata among the Imperials, but I was strongly encouraged to leave.

“The Imperium is very old, Bella,” he told her, “and they do not forget. We are already skirting the law enough as it is, living in plain sight among human society without the backing of Imperial authority, and flaunting what they see to be our deviance in feeding on animals. If they were to discover that we had allowed ourselves to be discovered and did not take immediate steps to ensure our secrecy, our punishment would be swift and severe.”

He stopped, seeming almost unsure for the first time when speaking to her, and cut his eyes over to Jasper briefly. “And all the more so,” he said carefully, “because we are harboring a fugitive.”

Bella stared at him, and then over at Jasper, who was looking down at his hands, which were knotted into tight fists where they rested on the table. The silence was tense, and Bella felt compelled to break it by asking, “...From what?”

Carlisle sighed. “The vampire who was responsible for changing Jasper,” he said, “was—shall we say—a deeply unpleasant individual. An extremely effective manipulator, in addition to being a fairly skilled Compulsor—and she kept the vampires she managed to recruit or create in her thrall, Jasper included. They were all, by some mix of convincing and coercion, made to participate in her various misdeeds, and when the Imperium finally called her to account, those under her sway were held complicit in her crimes.” He flicked his eyes over briefly again. “Jasper managed to escape, and has since settled with us, but is still technically on the lam.”

Carlisle’s eyes were intent, and he took her hand again as he had the night before—her injured one, that he was healing. “Should the Imperium find out what you know, your life would be forfeit—and very likely so would his.” At her wide-eyed stare, he pulled back again, patting her hand once before letting go. “As I said—while we are most concerned for you, as you are entirely innocent in this business, we are admittedly still concerned for ourselves as well. So once again, for all of our sakes, you must understand why you must keep silent.”

“I won’t—I won’t say anything,” she said. She felt her mouth twist. “I didn’t before because nobody would have believed me anyway—and they still wouldn’t—except maybe people I don’t want to, I guess.” Carlisle gave her a wry nod. “But if there are so many of you…how can I…if they do come after me, what do I…”

“You want to know how we can be killed?” he asked bluntly.

She blanched. It sounded awful when he said it like that, when they had all been nothing but pleasant to her, nothing at all like monsters (well, almost nothing).

He noticed and said gently, “There is no crime in wanting to know how to defend yourself, dear.” He straightened a little. “The majority of the traditional apotropaic magic—crosses, garlic, holy water and the like—are quite ineffective. Those were always traditional wards for all manner of monsters in folklore, and vampires seem to have been grandfathered onto that list, which was then encouraged by the Imperium to lead humans who may be hunting us off the trail. It also cultivates an air of mystique and the supernatural about us—which is quite intentional on their part, as well,” he said, his mouth twisting. “They actively discourage any investigation into our natures, preferring, I think, to believe their own propaganda about our supernatural natures. But what little research I’ve been able to do seems to indicate that there is a rational, scientific explanation for everything about us. We can cross running water, we have reflections—and hence the roses,” he added, nodding toward her. “They do seem to genuinely induce an allergic reaction of sorts in us—we rather rapidly develop swelling and itching, lose our senses of smell, and our eyes swell shut.” He gave her a small smile. “It is not, perhaps, as effective as a movie crucifix, but a vampire who can no long see or smell you is rather easier to escape.”

She nodded, her mind already whirling—could you make vampire mace like in Blade, just use rosewater instead of garlic?—but then she had to ask, “What about the, uh, the sprinkling grain…thing?”

Carlisle’s lips twitched up into a half-smile. “Been doing your research?”

“No! I mean, yes,” she said, her face hot. “But not because of that, but I—a few weeks ago, at school—”

“Oh! Your Skittles!”

Bella looked at Alice, who was nodding wildly in her seat. “Uh—yeah,” she managed to continue. “I dropped some Skittles in the hallway, and, uh—Alice and Edward were…”

“Compelled to count them?” At her uncomfortable nod, Carlisle said, “Well, not exactly—it’s not necessarily a compulsion to count, per se. I can't give you an exact explanation, perhaps it's just a predator adaptation, but our vision is particularly drawn toward movement, even more so than humans, and a great many small moving objects is extremely distracting to us, often to the point of sensory overload.

“Those are the only genuine means of warding off or distracting a vampire,” he continued. “Well—in fairness,” he amended, “sunlight does not cause us to burst into flames, but we are nocturnal creatures, and sunlight is uncomfortable, and prolonged exposure can cause permanent physical damage. But that is hardly an effective means to guard yourself against attack.”

Bella tensed at his next words. “As for more definitive methods of dealing with a vampire…folklore is not far off, but simply because most of those methods would be fatal to anyone. Fire and beheading are just as effective on us as they would be to a human,” he said. “But just as with a human attacker…actually managing either of those would be quite difficult.”

“So, uh…no stakes?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said with a sound that was almost a chuckle. “A stake would not kill us outright—but it would be extremely painful and would cause us to bleed out—which in our case, should a vampire lose enough of the blood he has consumed, he would enter a sort of torpor—still aware, but sluggish and unable to move easily, and thereby much easier to kill properly. Obviously, a stake is not the only way to achieve this—and just as obviously, for an average person, short of a firearm, getting near enough to a vampire and employing sufficient strength to inflict such a wound is rather unlikely.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “So you’re basically saying that there is nothing I can do if some vampire comes after me to deal with me.”

There was a very uncomfortable silence. Surprisingly, it was Rosalie who broke it, her tone a bit wry but still somehow conciliatory. “Be honest—is it really much worse than the idea of a human coming after you?” Bella blinked at her. “Could you shoot or stab or behead any human trying to hurt you?”

Her words should not have been the least bit reassuring, but somehow they were, in a weird way. Her dad was a cop, after all—she’d always known there were monsters out there. There were just a few more now.

Carlisle clicked his tongue a little. “That aside, the fact is that you’re actually much safer from vampires here than you would be nearly anywhere else,” he said. “We tend to be a solitary, nomadic species and do not play well with others. My family are a bit of an exception to that rule; in addition to refusing to take human lives ourselves, we also take steps to prevent others from doing the same—specifically, we don’t allow any passing vampires to come here.” His smile was kind. “The Olympic Peninsula is quite well-protected against hostile vampires; you can rest easy on that front.”

Bella was quiet, trying to digest this bit of information. Some of the others were flipping through her copies again, speaking quietly to each other, until Esme leaned over to murmur something to Carlisle and he looked back to Bella. “Bella,” he said gently, “before I leave for work, there is one other matter I need to discuss with you.”

She looked up from where she had been examining the woodgrain in the table, chewing on her lip as she mulled everything over, and met Carlisle's serious gaze.

“My family attends school and takes jobs in order to establish identities in human society,” he began. "As the world becomes more and more connected, it becomes harder and harder to live among you without certain documentation, et cetera. Esme and I attended medical school some twenty years ago and are still...leveraging that to allow us to practice medicine at the moment, but we find it easier for the rest of the family to simply enter the school system to update their new identities." He looked seriously at her. “There are pros and cons to this arrangement, and we would like to continue as we have been, but at the moment, I must ask you what you would like us to do about Edward.”

She jolted in her seat, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. Carlisle obviously noticed her reaction and sighed. “I excused him from the last few days of school with a fiction about a recurring illness, but this is obviously not a long-term solution,” he went on. “He has been staying away for your sake as much as anything, but he—we all need to know if you are comfortable with him returning, or if we need to start looking into alternatives.”

Bella fidgeted, feeling horribly on-the-spot. Her immediately reaction was no, she didn’t want him anywhere near her—he tried to eat her! But on the heels of that thought was the memory of his awkward shuffling at school, of his occasional shy jokes, of his saving her from a car accident, of getting her purse back from a mugger. He wanted to eat her, they said…but that he also didn’t.

“Is he…can he?” she had to ask. “Be around me, I mean?”

Carlisle sighed. “I won’t lie—there is a certain amount of risk involved. As you’ve seen, once he got past that first day he met you, he has displayed admirable control and has been able to function normally around you. More or less,” he added, and Bella blushed to think that she'd let her incredulity show at that statement. “We also like to think that now that he has been around you when you have a serious open wound and knows what to expect should it happen again, that he is further prepared to deal with the issue. But ultimately, as I said the last time we spoke, we are in unfamiliar territory. We do not know why it is that you draw him the way you do—” here Bella blushed again, “—and so we simply don’t know how this situation will play out.”

Bella looked at the down at the tabletop for a moment, the pad of her thumb pinched between her teeth. She didn’t know what motivated her: Her natural tendency to be accommodating? Her memories of him looking out for her? The part of her that still couldn’t quite believe this was all real? But whatever it was, she took a breath and squared her shoulders and gave the only answer that really felt right.

“I guess…I guess we can try it.”

She could feel the collective sigh of relief around the table, and her face heated in response. Carlisle smiled at her and squeezed her hand again. “Thank you, my dear.”

There hadn’t been much else to say after that. Bella did still have a ton of questions—how did you turn into a vampire, how did everyone else turn into one, how old are they, how did you get here, who are the head vampires—but it seemed, well, intrusive to start demanding all that, so she was quiet while they had shuffled around her copies, just offering up her thumb drive so they could copy over her digital versions.

It was nearing noon when Carlisle had left for the hospital, once again earnestly thanking her for being so understanding, which just left her with warm cheeks and not really knowing what to say. It had also seemed like a perfect opportunity to escape herself—“good” vampires or no, they were still vampires, and yes, they were still very uncomfortable to be around.

Esme and Alice had had other ideas, unfortunately. “Now, we can’t very well drag you out here and not feed you,” Esme said firmly. “We have plenty of leftovers from Friday—I know you didn’t eat much, but I assumed it was just nerves—was the food all right?”

Bella shrank a little under her beady stare and mumbled that it had been fine, and that was how she came to be sitting at the Cullens’s dining room table, once more with a plate of shrimp alfredo in front of her and Alice perched beside her.

Her appetite was better, but it was still a bit difficult being the only one eating and with Alice watching her every move—and this time accompanied with very weird, pointed questions.

“Are the noodles easier to swallow because they’re slippery?”

“Do the green leaves have flavor or are they just for decoration?”

“If garlic and onions make people cry, why do you eat them?”

Jasper finally intervened, as he had on Friday night. “You’ll have to excuse Alice,” he said as he passed through the room towards the hallway beyond. He still had a bit of the pinched look from their earlier discussion, but it was softened by amused fondness. “She’s so interested in everything because she doesn’t remember being human herself.”

Bella blinked in surprise. “What—you do, though? But she doesn’t?”

Jasper nodded. “We all remember our old lives perfectly well—but Alice just doesn’t have any memories from before.”

Alice just grinned. “I woke up in a dump!” And that was apparently it—when Bella asked for clarification, she was informed that Alice had crawled out of a pile of garbage as a vampire one day and that was that.

“I don’t remember anything else,” she said. “I mean, I knew how to talk and some other things, but I don’t really remember being a human.”

That…explained a lot, really. So Bella gamely tried to find a way to describe what her lunch tasted like to someone who had never actually eaten food before. Since apparently, as Alice had happily informed her, pretend-eating their school lunches or on Friday night didn’t count, because it didn’t taste good and they had to throw it up after.

Bella had done her best to hold up under this barrage, through her whole plate of pasta and a slice of cheesecake after (“How can cheese be for dinner and dessert?” Alice wanted to know). When she finally managed to finish, she stood to take out her own plate; it didn’t seem right that anyone wait on her when she was the only one eating.

And Alice had lit up and immediately flown out of the room. Bella watched her go, bewildered, and then took her plate into the kitchen, but hadn’t made it halfway to the sink before Alice came zipping back in with a portable stereo. “Yes!” she squealed. “We will do dishes and dance to my music!”

“Uh…what?”

“I Saw it!”

Bella had begun to notice the capitals that the Cullens used when referring to Alice, but… “You…saw the future of us…doing dishes?”

“And dancing!” Alice mashed the play button, and a keyboard line blared out of the speaker, which Bella instantly recognized as “What a Feeling” from Flashdance.

Alice was hopping in place next to the sink. “Nobody else likes my Eighties music—but you do!”

Bella was incredulous, but a helpless smile was crawling across her face. “You…you Saw that?”

Alice nodded furiously, and then seized one of Bella’s plates and yanked on the faucet and started scrubbing in time to the music.

So Bella just gamely washed her own plate to the music as well, as she had so often at home—although she couldn’t help the way her jaw dropped when, during the bridge of the song, Alice immediately went into a perfect version of the movie dance number, complete with the breakdancing spin.

She bounced up afterwards, beaming. “Now you!”

“Oh—uh, Alice, I’m—I’m not that good,” she stammered.

Alice just scampered over to her and seized her hands. “But you do dance—show me!”

There…there really wasn’t much else she could do. She’d danced to this song often enough in her own kitchen, in either Phoenix or Forks, that with Alice bouncing in front of her it was easy enough to let her feet start to move.

Bella was, surprisingly enough, a pretty good dancer. Not like Alice, obviously, and not even naturally, but through hard work—and therapy. Her balance and spatial awareness had never been great, as had been more than clear from her disastrous year of ballet lessons as a child, but after her head injury it had taken a serious beating. She wound up in physical therapy for it, and her therapist Kelly turned out to have been quite a dancer and an Eighties Child just like Renée. She in fact had become Renée’s new best friend (to the point that they had spent the last two Thanksgivings with her and her husband Luke), and in the course of getting Bella back on her feet had started her on a strict regimen of dancing to Eighties pop. Despite her protestations that she was totally white and had no rhythm whatsoever, she’d been bullied and cajoled into therapy-cum-dance lessons, and by the end of it, she found she’d actually learned how to hold her own on the dance floor.

She still wasn’t perfect, obviously. She’d actually managed to loosen up enough to do the Electric Slide to Alice’s enthusiastic applause, and then was repeating it so Alice could do it along with her, but not even Alice's sudden restraining hand was enough to keep her from moving backwards and bumping right into someone she hadn’t even known was there.

“Oh!” She whirled around, an embarrassed apology already on her lips.

It was Edward.

Her breath escaped her as a shriek as she went down, landing hard on her backside and scrabbling away on her elbows as he stood over her, her heart rising up in her throat to choke her, because he was here and he was going to get her—

Except he wasn’t coming for her, but instead was hunching down and shrinking in on himself as though trying to disappear.

It was only because she didn’t have any breath left that she didn’t scream when there were cold arms suddenly around her middle, and then she found herself hauled back to her feet like a sack of flour. She looked wildly around to find Alice letting her go, peering at her with a concerned look, and then stumbled back further, putting the kitchen island between herself and Edward.

He cringed at her reaction, barely flicking his eyes up to her and then looking back down at the floor. “Bella, I—” he started, and then stopped, swallowing noisily, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into fists. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t speak, just stood still, hands gripping the edge of the counter, her entire body tense as she looked at him, looked for his teeth.

“I didn’t mean to—I never wanted—I’m so sorry!” Edwards hands flew up to fist in his hair, and he seemed to crumple where he stood, curling in on himself, his head low over the counter between them.

Alice appeared in her line of vision then, trotting around the island to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Edward. Bella understands—don’t you, Bella?” she said, rounding on her with wide eyes.

Bella licked her lips, and Edward flicked his eyes up to hers, just briefly. They were dry, but painfully red, like he had been crying. His hands were still in his hair, like he so often did, like in the picture, like when he had shyly smiled at her when she thanked him for saving her from Tyler’s van.

“I—” she tried, but it came out as a croak, but even that word was enough for Edward’s eyes to come up to meet hers again.

She swallowed once, and managed to nod.

“You do?” He’d straightened a little, his hands sliding down out of his hair to grip the counter just like she was. There was a painful note of hope in his voice.

“I—Carlisle said,” Bella started, “that I—that you want to—”

“No!” She jumped at his sudden vehemence. “I don’t want to hurt you—I never want to hurt you!” And then he suddenly seemed to sag where he stood. “I just…I just can’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away again.

But…he could. He had for a whole nine weeks. But Bella didn’t know how to say that—if she even could say that—so she just gnawed at her lip, looking at the floor too, with the incredibly incongruous sound of Simply Minds in the background. The absurdity of the entire situation struck her then, and once again she felt that urge to laugh—but better that than cry, like Edward looked about to.

But then he straightened himself, took a deep breath, and turned to face her once more. “You—you have my word that I—that it won’t happen again,” he said.

She did her best to meet his eyes, although her own kept cutting away, what with the intensity of the way he was staring at her. But all the same, she took a breath of her own and said, “Okay.”

Edward stared at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Bella just knotted her hands together, rubbing her thumb over her mostly healed cut (until she suddenly realized that maybe she shouldn’t be doing that, not right now), fidgeting where she stood.

Trust Alice to cut the tension. She clapped her hands loudly together twice. “See? I told you she understood! Because she’s your friend—and now she’s my friend too and she knows we aren’t bad. Right?!” she demanded, rounding on her, and Bella couldn’t help the way her mouth curled a little.

“Yeah, Alice, I—I know you’re not bad.”

Alice hopped where she stood, and then threw up her fist to the music in a way that was so on the nose that it couldn't be anything but a John Bender impression. “Can we dance some more now?” she wanted to know.

“Alice, that’s enough.” Esme was coming in through the entrance to the living room. “You’ve harassed the poor girl about that enough for today,” she said.

Her appearance and her casual words as she turned off Alice’s music felt incredibly staged to Bella, but she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the interruption. Alice looked almost comically offended, while Edward was just standing on the other side of the island, his hands deep in his pockets and his arms tucked in tight to his sides and not looking at anyone.

“I’m not harassing her!” Alice was insisting, snatching up her stereo and cradling it defensively. “She likes Eighties music!”

“That may well be, but there’s a time and a place for everything,” Esme continued. But Alice was dancing out of her reach, retreating towards the living room, so Esme watched her go with her hands on her hips, annoyed, before turning to Bella. “She shouldn’t have made a guest do her own dishes, but she’s been on about Seeing the two of you washing up to her silly music for days now.” Esme came over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she spoke, keeping herself between Bella and Edward as she led her out into the living room.

“It isn’t silly!”

“Yeah, it really is, Alice,” Emmett rumbled good-naturedly from where he was ensconced on the couch, watching muted basketball. He looked over at Bella and grinned. “You should have seen her back in ‘84—she had us all dancing to ‘Thriller’.”

She actually startled herself with bark of laughter that erupted out of her. “You guys—you guys were doing ‘Thriller’?”

Emmett chuckled. “Yep. Every one of us played along. ‘Course,” he added, “it was an uphill battle. Rose says there hasn’t been any decent music written since Glenn Miller died. And Ed there,” he added, jerking his chin to where Edward was trailing distantly behind them out of the kitchen, “still thinks that ragtime is a daring new sound.”

She couldn’t help but look back at him, only to see him giving Emmett an indignant scowl that looked so incredibly petulant that she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Esme just gave a lofty sniff. “I’ll thank you not to be down on ragtime, young man,” she said. “Without it there wouldn’t be any of your jazz.” She turned to Bella and said, “Edward is the only other one here to appreciates it, you know. If he’s in the mood I can get him to play for me.”

Esme looked back at Edward fondly, and Bella followed her gaze to find him staring back with a familiar, slightly spooked look. “He plays beautifully, you know,” she said, a bit conspiratorially.

“Um…yeah, he mentioned he did,” Bella replied.

Alice suddenly leapt into her field of vision. “Ooh, yes, Edward—you will play and we’ll dance to that too!”

And she grabbed him by the arm and hauled him towards the piano in the corner. Emmett seemed to find this all vastly amusing, sniggering as Edward was dragged across the room, feebly protesting that nobody wanted to hear him play anything, all while Alice insisted that he was going to play.

Once she had pushed Edward onto the seat, Alice dashed across the room to snatch Bella out from under Esme’s arm and deposit her next to the piano (she carefully kept the curve of the rim between the keyboard and herself). “You tell him, Bella!” she demanded. “He’ll play if you tell him to!”

Bella’s face heated unpleasantly, which was not at all helped by the way Edward was scrunching his own pink ears down around his shoulders and not looking at her. “You—uh—you don’t have to—to play anything—” she stammered.

“No! I mean—I don’t mind—I will if—if you wanted—”

Now neither one of them were looking at each other, and it was only after an uncomfortable clearing of his throat that Edward moved his hands to the keys and played a few soft chords that Bella thought she vaguely recognized. He paused, looking up at her, and then hesitantly offered, “‘Clair de Lune’?” At her somewhat blank look, he pressed, “Um, Debussy? It was what I had on in—” he faltered suddenly and looked back down at the keys.

It took her a moment to catch up. Oh. The piano that was playing in the car on Wednesday, before he…

It was Bella's turn to clear her throat uncomfortably. “I don’t—uh—I don’t really know much of his stuff. Um, well, ‘Rêverie,’ I guess, I—” But before she could finish the thought, he was playing again, and she immediately recognized the dreamy baseline.

He looked up at her with a vaguely hopeful expression, still playing this time, and she felt the corner of her mouth tick upwards. “I—I never could get the hang of that one,” she said. “The notes—they don’t line up.”

Edward gave a tiny laugh, his smile still with that almost surprised quality to it, like he always did in class. He stopped at a pause in the music, fidgeted a little, tugging on the hair at the back of his neck, and then asked, “Do you—um—do you know any ragtime?”

“Not really,” she answered. “Just—just the song from The Sting.”

And Edward was nodding, and immediately his long fingers were flying over the keys again. “‘The Entertainer’,” he said, dancing down through the opening notes before falling into the familiar melody. He gave a tiny huff. “That’s not even set in the right time period, though.”

Bella realized she was edging around the rim of the piano, just a little, so she could watch his hands as he played. He hadn’t been lying—he was good, his long fingers moving in that effortless way that Bella had always envied. “Yeah, but it’s still really catchy.”

He gave her a sort of diffident smile of agreement, and then just played, and Bella just listened and watched. When he came to stop, Alice applauded wildly, and despite being a bit embarrassed, Bella gave him a little golf-clap too. Edward looked very flushed, but still seemed cautiously pleased.

Esme moved toward the piano from where she had been leaning against the wall listening. “That takes me back,” she said, smiling at Bella. “I used to go dancing to Joplin.” Her look turned speculative. “Play another, Edward—something with some bounce.”

And that was how, just when Bella thought her day couldn’t get any more ridiculous, she found herself being taught the Turkey Trot by vampires.

She mostly managed not to flinch at Esme’s icy hands on hers as she gamely made herself follow the back-and-forth step around the room, with Alice following along with an invisible partner and mimicking them with bizarre precision all through “The Maple Leaf Rag,” until she prodded Emmett off of the couch to dance with her too. By the time Edward had worked through what Esme called the “Peacherine” and “Pineapple” rags, Bella felt she had a handle on it, but then Emmett called a halt.

“Okay—now that the old fogeys have had their fun, lemme show you how the young cool kids do it,” he said, smirking, and then worked at the larger sound system that was sitting in the entertainment center with the TV. A jazzy, big band tune started up, and before she knew what was going on, Emmett had swept her up and started teaching her to swing dance.

Bella found herself still in the throes of that awful combination of blushing and cringing around him, especially being caught up in his arms like that, but his good humor was infectious and she tried to get the hang of these steps too (and yes, he could hoist her in the air as if she weighed nothing, it turned out, as she found out when he swung her around in a lift). Alice was dancing along by herself next to them again, now mirroring Emmett exactly all through “In the Mood” and “Tuxedo Junction.” But this time, when Bella finally felt she could dance along properly, Alice immediately cut in—pushing Emmett out of the way so she could grab Bella and lead her around the room during “A String of Pearls.” She had to fight not to giggle at how silly this whole thing was—a battle she lost when Emmett sidled up to Edward and tried to get him to dance (“How ‘bout you, Handsome? You wanna trip the light fantastic?”) and was soundly rebuffed.

They’d danced through the jazzy numbers, but when the next one started up, a much slower, ballad-like song with a smooth melody, Emmett let out a laugh. “Oh, Bella—watch this,” he said, trotting over to turn up the music so that it filled the house, looking back towards the hallway. He meandered back over to where she was standing after she’d disentangled herself from Alice and nudged her with his elbow. “‘Moonlight Serenade’ is Our Song, and even after all these years, this one’ll still get my girl,” he said smugly.

He looked back towards the hallway and broke out into a grin, and when Bella followed his gaze, there stood Rosalie, beaming at him with a misty expression, and when he held out one hand, she flew across the room and into his arms.

Bella stepped hastily back as Emmett proceeded to whirl her around, the smooth glide of their steps making Bella feel more than usually ungainly just watching them. There was movement out of the corner of her eye and she whipped around; Edward had come over from where he’d been hanging back, although he was still standing a goodish distance away from her. He gave her a small, slightly pained smile.

“They, um, used to dance to this one a lot,” he offered, “back before they were married.”

“They’re married?!” Bella stared at him, incredulous. They were still in high school!

…Except how that didn’t really count—they were vampires. And if this really was “their song,” and it was back from the Forties, well—then it really didn’t count.

Edward just nodded, fiddling with the unfastened button at the bottom of his vest. “We aren’t really all related.”

Bella looked back, where Emmett and Rosalie were no longer sailing all over the room, but had instead settled down into slowly twirling on the spot, Rosalie tucked under Emmett’s chin with his head resting on his chest and her eyes closed. “Are—are Carlisle and Esme really married? Or is that just—just part of your family cover?”

Edward nodded at her question. “Yes, they are. And Alice and Jasper.”

Bella blinked, and then her jaw fell open. She nearly blurted out a loud “What?!” but managed to stop herself, since Alice was standing right there, but she didn’t look at all displeased by her gaping.

“We got married in 1955!” she trilled happily.

“Wow—uh—wow, Alice,” she finally managed. “I—I had no idea.” And she still didn’t—her brain absolutely could not make sense of that, not after having met them.

“Of course not—we keep it secret,” Alice said, nodding sagely, as though that explained Bella’s confusion.

Edward understood, at least, and coughed slightly. “Um…Jasper, he…he was on his own, for a long time. And he, uh…Carlisle mentioned that he’d had a bad time of it?” He was fidgeting, alternately looking down where he was scuffing his shoes on the floor and peering up at her as he tried to speak. At Bella’s continued silence, he tugged at the back of his hair for a moment and then continued. “He met Alice after he’d escaped, and she—she was the first person he'd been able to get close to in seventy years. And Alice, well, he was the first other v—other person like her she’d met at all, and they…kind of helped each other out.”

…Bella guessed that made sense. Although she was still having trouble processing the idea of Jasper’s tightly controlled silence matched with Alice’s bouncy, childlike enthusiasm.

Alice seemed unperturbed. “He taught me so many things,” she said. “I didn’t know how to do anything and then I Saw him and knew he would show me all the things I didn’t know.” Her eyes went wide. “Oooh—come this way, Bella!” She seized her wrist. “I want to show you my bracelet!” And Bella was nearly hauled off her feet as Alice made for the hallway past the staircase.

“Alice, stop that!” she heard Edward calling from behind them, sounding exasperated and vaguely embarrassed. “Don’t drag people around that way!”

Alice released her so abruptly that she would have fallen, if she hadn’t then caught her. “Sorry,” she said. “But come in here!” They’d stopped by a doorway, and Alice darted into it. Bella looked back and saw Edward coming down the hall, although he stopped short and flushed and looked away when he caught her eye, and she rather hurriedly moved to follow Alice. Only she stopped short again when she got a look at where she was going.

It was a library—a real one, surrounded with built-in shelves, low on one side, but high on the other, following the line of the vaulted ceiling, enough so that there was a rolling ladder on the shelves on that side. Additional shelves were situated at right angles to make cozy little reading nooks, filled with plush chairs perfect for curling up in with one of the books that packed the shelves to bursting.

She barely had a moment to gawk in delight, though, because Alice reappeared from where she’d been behind one of the shelves and came bounding over to grab her hand—although this time she didn’t drag her, just moved at a more sedate pace while still encouraging her to come see. Further into the room, by a computer desk in the back, was a shelf that wasn’t full of books, but rather display pieces, all mounted in shadowboxes or glass cases, lit by small recessed lighting. She saw a few pieces of jewelry, some books, what looked like a couple of medals, but Alice proudly directed her attention to a small case by the right end.

“My bracelet,” she announced.

It…was a bracelet all right, Bella guessed, in the strictest sense, in that it looked like it would fit around a very small wrist. But it was also a cracked and dirty piece of old leather with rusted rivets and a pitted metal plate on one side.

Bella wracked her brains for something to say about it, but Alice didn’t seem to need her to. “That was all I have from Before,” she said, putting special emphasis on the word. “That’s how I knew my name when I met Jasper.”

Bella looked again with new appreciation, and squinted down at the little metal tag, and could just kinda-sorta make out the remnants of a handful of letters stamped on it, a couple of which looked like they could have once made up the name "Alice." “Oh!” she said, finally understanding. “That’s—that’s cool, Alice.”

Alice beamed at her with her laughing smile and nodded.

Movement caught her eye again, and she turned to see Edward lurking by the end of the book case. He looked startled when she turned toward him, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but then sort of shuffled a little closer. “We…we try not to hang on to too many things from our pasts,” he said. “But we have a few things here that we—that are important.”

She flicked her eyes back to the display shelf, their contents taking new significance. “Oh—yeah, I guess—I guess you would have some things that you’d like to keep.” She ran her eyes along the shelf—and then did a double take at the set of books on the shelf along the far wall.

“Are those…?” she moved quickly down the length of the shelf, sure she’d spotted a very familiar face on one of the spines, a girl with long dark curls, a diadem, and big poppies in her hair… “They are! You have the Oz books!” She looked back at Edward, who was giving her a shocked look, and then back at the line of multi-colored hardbacks, all bound in a different shade, each with a unique drawing on the spine, and ran her finger all along the long line… “Is this the entire Famous Forty?!”

“You…you know the Oz books?”

“Are you kidding? I love these!” She gently tipped out the third in the series, and was delighted to find that the front cover was a stamped with a tri-tone John R. Neill illustration. “These are gorgeous!” She started flipping through it, spotting the pictures of all her favorite moments. And then she had to go back to the copyright page— “Are these first editions?!”

“Um…yeah.” Edward had edged down the line of the shelf, his hands firmly in the pockets of his slacks again but with strangely bright eyes. “Those—those are mine. I collected them.”

“Oh, wow—so, you’ve read all of them?”

“Yeah,” he said diffidently, toeing the floorboards again.

“All I have are paperbacks of the original Baum fourteen,” she admitted.

“Those are the best,” Edward said quickly, and then flushed a little and looked away.

“Well, they’d kinda have to be,” she said, flipping through the book again.

“Which one…do you have a favorite?”

“Oh, Ozma of Oz, definitely,” she said, holding up the book in her hands. “The Wheelers, Princess Langwidere, and the Nome King—and TikTok was the first example of a robot in literature, you know. Which one is your favorite?”

Edward blinked a little, cutting his eyes away again, and said, “Well, I—I always liked The Patchwork Girl—with Ojo, and Scraps, and the Glass Cat—”

“With her pink brains, and you can see ‘em work!” she giggled.

Edward was looking at her with an expression of disbelieving delight. “I—I can’t remember the last time I met someone who knew these.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, smiling. “There must be some people out there who do, but I’ve only met people who look at me like I’m crazy when I say that the movie was based on a book, much less that there are more. But my Granny Marie had them and used to read them to me when I visited—I still have her set.”

“My—my mother read me these.” At Bella’s surprised look, he said as he had before, “My real mother. Back from before I—from before.”

“Oh.” The book felt a bit heavier in her hands, and she carefully slid it back in place. Edward had gone stiff again and was knotting his fingers in the front placket of his waistcoat. “Back, uh—back when they were brand new?” she joked, hopefully to lighten the mood.

Edward just twitched a little, and gave her a tiny half-smile. “Um, actually…yes.”

Bella stared.

Edward scowled at the floor. “Emmett—Emmett was only half-joking about the ragtime thing,” he said, sounding sullen.

“How…how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he said quickly, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“…And how long have you been seventeen?” she prodded

He sighed. “A while.” He flicked his eyes up to her and swallowed once. “I was—I was born in 1901.”

Bella felt her jaw go slack. “You—you’re a hundred and four years old?!”

He flinched, but nodded.

Bella gawped at him—remembering all his stammering, his awkward attempts at conversation, his anxious fretting with his hands, his almost shocked embarrassment every time he managed to make a joke—and blurted, “You don’t act like it!”

His head snapped up, and Bella felt her face heat horribly and now it was her turn to look away, mortified.

“I…I don’t?”

The strange note in his voice made her turn back to him. “Well…no,” she said slowly. “You mostly just seem…” She couldn’t bring herself to say normal, not with his weird episodes and heavy breathing and drooling, but if you took all that away, all those things that she now knew were because he was a vampire, then even if he was awkward, he really just seemed… “…just like anybody else.”

Edward was staring at her with a stunned expression. She felt her face getting hot again and looked away.

“…Thank you.”

She looked up in surprise, and flushed hotter when she met his eyes, which were big and sparkling, but at the shy smile that was spreading across his face, as though she’d just said something wonderful, she managed to say, “…You’re welcome.”

Bella hadn’t loitered too much longer after visiting the library with Alice. She had thankfully managed to extract herself from the uncomfortably dewy look Edward was giving her when, upon cutting her gaze away, her eyes had fallen on the cracked binding of the set of three volumes carefully preserved under glass and realized that they were a first edition Pride and Prejudice, and had been completely unable to keep from having a fangirl meltdown over them. Edward had sounded a bit disgruntled when he told her that those were Carlisle’s. Esme had appeared about then and told them that they had taken up enough of Bella’s day and should take her home.

Alice had chirpily agreed and seized her arm, but at a hissed “Alice!” from Edward, had let her go again and allowed her to follow her under her own power back out into the living room. They found Emmett and Rosalie making out on the couch, to Edward’s obvious disgust, although they had surfaced long enough to tell her goodbye.

Esme had rolled her eyes at the two of them, and then patted Bella’s cheeks and told her she was a good girl (she barely had the urge to flinch back by now, she found), pressed a full Tupperware container of pasta leftovers into her hands (“We certainly don’t have any use for it, dear.”), and thanked her for helping them out. She then shooed them—all three of them, Bella realized with a flicker of alarm—toward the front door.

Alice had retrieved her sunhat and bounded outside, but Edward had loitered behind, squirming where he stood. “Do you mind—I can stay here—but is it okay if I—if you’re not comfortable I can—”

“It’s fine,” Bella said finally, as much to cut off his painful rambling as anything.

He looked almost pathetically relieved, and Bella hurried after Alice with Edward following slowly behind, pulling on the long coat and hat that he retrieved from the coat closet. Alice was already hopping into the driver’s side of the SUV parked out under the carport, turning it on and immediately cranking up The Bangles. Bella got into the passenger’s side at her direction, and then had to endure the excruciating awkwardness of Edward crawling into the driver’s side back seat and pressing himself against the door with the window down, which suddenly wasn't funny at all anymore. It was mortifying, the realization of what so many of his weird habits meant now, that it was all her fault that he acted that way—and she couldn’t help but feel as if she reeked or something.

“I can—should I roll down my window, or should you sit up here—?”

“I’m fine,” he said, although the squeak in his voice belied his words. “I—it’s—it’s good practice—for school.”

Bella was thankful, this time, for the way that Alice took off like a bat out of hell to "Walk Like an Egyptian," her lead foot not the slightest bit affected by the fact that she was so tiny that she was looking through the steering wheel to see. It meant that they were back at Bella’s house that much faster, that the incredibly uncomfortable ride with Edward scrunched silently in the back seat and her neck prickling because of it had quickly been over.

He flew out of the car before they’d come to a complete stop, but then was immediately by her door and opening it up for her. “Just watching for glass,” he’d said from behind the door, a tiny smile on his face, but then immediately had looked so horrified when he’d realized what he’d just said that Bella couldn’t help but giggle.

“Bye, Bella!” Alice had called. “You have to come back and visit some more!”

Bella had swallowed a burst of nerves. She…hadn’t considered that the Cullens might expect more of her now. “I—we’ll see, Alice,” she demurred, but that seemed to be enough, because Alice had just beamed at her through the windshield. “Well, um—bye, Edward,” she said, and he quickly said goodbye too before getting into the car and shutting the door.

They’d waited until she’d opened the front door, and she turned to give them a bit of a weak wave, and Alice and waved furiously back, Edward much more tentatively so, and then they went tearing off down the street.

Bella had put away her leftovers—that would make a quick and easy dinner if she made some garlic toast to go with it—and had spent a little while just plonked down on the couch.

Helluva day.

But once she’d managed to shake off any lingering tension, there wasn’t much to do in the empty house by herself, so she’d figured that she might as well do some of the chores that she’d neglected during her rather stressed weekend. She’d popped in her headphones and managed to tidy the kitchen and the bathroom during the rest of the afternoon, and was just in the kitchen digging around to see if they had enough lettuce for a Caesar salad with dinner when she heard the front door opening.

She shut the fridge. “Hi, Dad,” she called, leaving the kitchen and going down the hall. “How was—”

One look at Charlie’s face and the words died in her mouth.

“Dad, is—is everything okay?”

Charlie just bowed his head, and then hung his jacket up on the coatrack and then came over to take her hand. “Come here, Bells,” he said, his voice heavy, and lead her into the living room.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” she demanded, alarm creeping in. “Is—is Mom okay?”

“Your mom’s fine,” he hastened to say, but sat down on the couch and pulled her down next to him, keeping her hands in his. “But I—I do have some bad news.” He sighed, letting go of one of her hands to rub his face.

Bella peered up at him, anxious, taking in his red eyes.

He closed his eyes for a moment, before gripping her hands in both of his own again. “Bella—Waylon’s dead.”

Her hands flew out of his to cover her mouth. “What? Oh, Dad, no—what happened?”

“It was—it was this weekend,” Charlie said haltingly, looking at the ground. “It was Easter, so Harry and I were at home, but he—he went out fishing on his own.”

Bella reached out and took his hands again. “Did he—did he have an accident?” she asked gently.

She was shocked by the harsh laugh that Charlie let out. “No—no accident,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know what it was but—whatever got those two hikers in the forest, whatever wild animal that was—it looks like it attacked him too.”

Chapter Text

Bella sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Charlie. He’d called her that morning, saying that he was coming home for lunch; he’d added he’d be a little bit on the late-side, and that he’d just pick up something on his way.

He was pretty shaken after yesterday. He and Waylon had been friends for years; to have him suddenly go like that would have been a shock under any circumstances…but then, given what the actual circumstances were…

Charlie hadn’t wanted to talk too much about it the night before. Bella had pressed a little, but he’d avoided the subject until finally he just told her, his voice tight, that it had been a very nasty, very bloody attack by who or whatever it was, and that he didn’t want her hearing anything more than that.

Charlie had been the one to identify the body; he hadn’t been spared anything.

Their dinner of leftovers had been very quiet. Charlie kept rubbing his temples, although he turned down Bella’s offer to get him some Tylenol.

Bella had stayed nearby after dinner, trying to be supportive, but in general Charlie was quiet and seemed to need some time to process things. She did too, really. She hadn’t really been all that close to Waylon, but now guilt throbbed in her middle as she thought about all the ways that she’d always been annoyed by him when he didn’t mean any harm. The guilt curdled into a sad, heavy ball in her stomach when she remembered how earnestly confident he’d been that she would do well in school, and his promise to be there for her graduation.

They’d never paid him back for that dinner.

They’d gone to bed early, but it was only as Bella got into bed and she looked up and spotted the vase of roses on her windowsill that a very different thought suddenly insinuated itself in her mind.

That was four deaths in Olympic National since she’d come to Forks. And three more up in Port Angeles.

Very bloody deaths.

It was strange; just a few days ago she’d been sure that it had been the Cullens behind the deaths in the park and in PA—that it had been Edward—but after spending the day with them, seeing how just…normal they were, just people, now she couldn’t imagine how they possibly could.

Well, almost couldn’t. No matter how incongruous it may seem, no matter how friendly and funny and welcoming they had been, she still had first-hand experience with just how different—how monstrous—they could become in the blink of an eye.

They insisted Forks was safe—but it seemed that they were wrong. Was there really just some wild animal out there, stalking people? If so, wouldn’t that be something they could take care of?

Or was it…something else?

She’d tossed and turned for a good portion of the night, wrestling with what—if anything—she could do about it. No wonder that she’d slept in the next day, only to be awakened by Charlie calling her to let her know that he wanted to come home for lunch today, just to get away from work for a bit.

She heard the sound of the door unlocking, and got up to find Charlie coming in. He looked tired already, like he had been up late too but without the luxury of sleeping in. “Hi, Bells,” he said as she took the greasy paper sack he was carrying.

“Hi, Dad. How was your morning?”

He sighed. “Well, enough, I guess,” he said. “We’re looking into animal control options. And putting out on the wire the possibility of a violent murderer in the area—if this is linked to what happened in PA.”

“Oh.” Bella trailed him into the kitchen and left him to set out the food while she filled glasses with ice water. More than usually aware that it was probably just a platitude, she said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and take care of whatever it is.”

He blew out a breath, setting down his burger on the open wrapper. “I hope so.” He shook out a carton of fries onto the waxed paper. “I just…I just can’t help but think that it’s because Waylon was all alone out there…if maybe we’d invited him over for lunch or something, or if it I’d been out with him with my pistol if I could have saved him…”

Bella squirmed, her stomach knotting a little. “Or maybe not,” she countered, trying to sound gentle. “I…I’m kinda glad you weren’t there when it happened—you might have been attacked too.”

Charlie gave her a small smile. “Yeah—there is that.”

They ate lunch mostly in silence. They had ice cream bars after, but since Charlie was on the clock today, he couldn’t linger long. He said he’d probably be late today, what with—everything, but that he’d let her know when he was headed out. Bella offered a hug before he left, and he squeezed her tight before telling her goodbye and to enjoy her afternoon.

After forcing herself to tidy up the kitchen, Bella found herself pacing the living room. The initial shock of Waylon’s sudden death had been such that she hadn’t considered the fact that Charlie was often in the same place he was—the same place she had been just a few weeks ago.

Even if it was just an animal, and she might know some…people who could take care of it, she ought to do something.

…Or if there was even the tiniest possibility that those same people she knew actually did it…

Mind made up, she trotted upstairs to get her cell phone from where it was still plugged in on her nightstand. She hesitated only a moment before opening her recent calls and calling back the most recent one she’d gotten.

It barely rang even once before it picked up. “Bella!”

“Um…hi, Alice,” she said, clearing her throat a little.

“Hello!”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” she said again, picking at the blanket where she sat on her bed. “Listen, I, uh…I wanted to ask you guys about…about something.” There was just silence on the end of the line, so she pushed onward. “I don’t know—I don’t know if you’d heard about it but, uh, someone was killed, out in the park this weekend, and, um—well, he was a friend of my dad’s, and I just…I just wondered if maybe…maybe you guys knew something, or if…if you could do something?” she finished in a rush.

Silence.

“Um…Alice? Are you there?”

“I’m calling Edward,” she said abruptly, and then hung up.

She was left staring rather blankly at her phone, an uncomfortable squirming sensation in her stomach. Alice was…Alice, but even for her that seemed a little abrupt.

It wasn’t long after that her phone went off again, and she quickly answered. “Hello?”

“You come to our house. We can talk.”

“What—now?” she asked.

“Yes. Come now. We will meet you there.”

“Uh—I have to ask my dad—but Alice, what’s—what’s going on?”

“We will talk there. Goodbye.” And again, she hung up.

Bella fretted for a moment, told herself she was being silly, reminded herself that no, she wasn’t, because vampires, before finally her curiosity got the better of her. She called Charlie and told him that Alice had asked her over again, and he said she could go.

The day was fairly warm and quite dry, only partly cloudy with bars of sunlight lancing through the sky. Bella forewent her heavier jacket today, just tucking her wallet, phone, and pepper spray into the pockets of her hoodie, and then went out and got in her truck and headed east.

The drive was quiet too; she didn’t feel up to music at the moment, caught up in wondering just what was going on. Not to mention that the awful clenching in her stomach that she’d felt all day after Edward had—after that—was making a quiet and unwelcome reappearance. She tried to tell herself that it was just Alice being, well, Alice, and that she wasn’t being deliberately cryptic—but since Alice was Alice, if it really was nothing they knew about, wouldn’t she just have said so?

It took her a much more reasonable amount of time to arrive at the turnoff to the Cullens’ private drive than it had yesterday. She could also appreciate the area a bit more, what with it being daylight and the fact that she wasn’t in fear for her life for one reason or another. The road had been carefully cleared through the thick stretch of forest, leaving the rest of the trees intact, tall and green and lovely all around. The clearing where their house stood burst out from the trees on the last turn; the grass was thick and the trees scattered around to the point that it actually looked natural. If it had been clear-cut to build the house, it was long enough ago that all signs of scarring were gone, leaving a lovely break in the trees for the house and its lush lawn, and then a broad meadow sloping beyond.

Not really knowing where else to park, she just pulled up in the driveway, to the side and out of the way of the carport, which was currently housing the familiar SUV. She killed the engine and slowly got out, looking around. There was no sign of life in the house that she could see, and the only sounds were of the birds in the surrounding woods. She turned toward the front walk.

“Bella!”

She only jumped a little at the sound of her name, and turned to find Alice standing by the side of the house. She zipped over to her in an instant and latched onto her wrist as usual, but at least this time didn’t yank her off her feet. “Come this way,” she said, tugging a bit to lead her around the back of the house. “We’re out here.”

Gentle pulling aside, her grip was still like iron, so Bella didn’t have much choice but to gamely follow along, around the side and to the back, where Alice led her up the deck steps to the main landing. There was a covered portion to one side that was draped with clematis vines to form a bower, and underneath was a seating area with over-stuffed deck chairs, two of which were currently occupied. Alice made a beeline for them, and she quickly saw that it was Emmett and Edward.

Edward shot to his feet as they drew near, and Bella couldn’t help but notice that he was dressed more lightly and casually than she’d had ever seen him. He wasn’t in the dressy slacks and vest from yesterday, or even his new-looking jeans and sweatshirts from school, but in somewhat worn jeans, dirty hiking boots, and a ratty T-shirt. They were all dressed down, she noticed, even the normally rather brightly-colored Alice, with none of the long sleeves or hats or sunglasses that she was used to seeing them in when they were outside. And they all didn’t look so good, either: pale to the point of being ashen, the bags under their eyes very prominent, their cheeks sunken.

“Hey, Bella,” Emmett said from where he still sat, rolling a baseball between his hands. He smiled as he spoke, but it was a bit more subdued than his usual good-natured smarm.

“Good afternoon,” Edward said, sounding even more stilted than he was normally. He didn’t have front pockets or buttons to fidget with and instead was tugging anxiously at the front of his shirt. “Please sit down.”

Bella gingerly perched on the edge of one of the chairs, her own anxiety knotting her stomach at the serious faces all around her.

“Please—please accept our condolences on the death of your father’s friend.”

Bella’s spine was growing ever more tense. “Is there—was it—do you guys…know something?”

Edward’s mouth was a hard line. He seemed to steel himself, and then said, “There’s another vampire in the area.”

Bella was stunned into silence, the only sound that of the breeze and the birds in the trees.

Emmett finally spoke. “A real one,” he said, his expression black. “We’re pretty sure he’s been hunting around here for weeks—but this weekend was the first time we knew for sure. He'd never come this close before—we nearly caught ‘im.”

“We couldn’t save that man,” Alice said, her toneless voice quieter than Bella had ever heard it.

Bella’s fist pressed hard against her mouth, the pain of her lips smashing between her teeth and her knuckles giving her something to keep her grounded.

A vampire—a monster—was hunting here. A real one—killing people. Killing her friends.

Could have killed her father.

“I thought you said you don’t let other vampires around here!” she burst out.

“We don’t!” Edward answered immediately. “The minute we find one getting close, we send them away—but this one hasn’t been getting close, not until this weekend. He’s just circling around—and he keeps getting away any time we try to find him.” He swallowed. “That’s—that’s what I was doing up in Port Angeles that night you got mugged,” he told her. “We heard on our scanner that there had been a murder, and I was there looking for him.”

She stared at him. “Those people…the ones who got bled out?”

Emmett nodded. “It had all the earmarks of a vampire covering their tracks,” he said. “Making it look like some kind of serial killer or something to cover up the fact that he’d been feeding. We sent Edward up ‘cause we hoped he’d be able to use his gift to smoke ‘im out.”

Edward yanked at the hair on the back of his head in clear frustration. “I couldn’t find him,” he said, his teeth gritted. “I thought—I thought I heard something, but it was gone before I could find it! And again on Friday! If I’d just looked harder, I could have prevented it!”

“Edward, relax,” Emmett said, his voice surprisingly soothing as he reached over and gripped his shoulder. “You can’t do everything.” He looked over at Bella. “We think this vampire must be some kind of Mask,” he said to her. “Able to keep us from finding him, and getting away before we can catch ‘im.”

Alice scrunched her nose. “I’m Looking too, but I don’t know what to Look for,” she said, sounding frustrated. “I See things, but I don’t know if it’s the right things.” She blinked, her eyes unfocusing briefly as they often did, before snapping back to Bella. “It’s easier for me to See people I know, and what happens to us. It’s harder to focus on people I don’t know. And whoever this vampire is, he's staying away.”

Bella swallowed. “So—so have all the deaths around here—in PA, and the people in the park—were those all vampires?”

Edward looked at the deck and nodded.

A memory sparked. “Oh—and out at La Push,” she said, remembering, and all the Cullens looked up in surprise. “There was an attack or something out there, too—they said it was a break-in—could that have been a vampire too?”

Edward and Emmett looked at each other. “Was there a death?” Edward asked.

Bella shook her head. “No, but Emily Uley got attacked by somebody in her home, and he cut her up. Her husband ran him off, though—could that have been a vampire?”

“Doubtful,” said Edward slowly. “A…a human who didn’t know what they needed to do would probably have trouble running off a vampire.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess that’s good,” she said, feeling a bit abashed. “But—you’re still trying to find this vampire? Waylon—the guy who died—he was a friend of my dad’s and—and he was killed where he and my dad liked to go fishing.”

Edward’s fists clenched. “We’ll find him,” he said, his voice hard. Then he looked up. “But, you might—do you think you can talk your father into not going fishing until we do?”

She nodded firmly. “I will—I don’t care what I have to say, I’ll keep him from going out,” she said.

Edward nodded. “Good. I—good.” He swallowed a bit noisily. “Bella—I’m sorry we haven’t—I’m so sorry we didn’t stop him in time to save your friend.”

She bit her lip and looked down. She couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow their fault—they told her she was safe, but she wasn’t, and someone she knew died. Like they had lied to her. But…it wasn’t their fault at all that there was a killer on the loose, and it wasn’t fair to blame them for it.

Alice suddenly popped up from where she was sitting and came over to perch on the arm of Bella’s chair and grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed. It was…a weirdly sweet gesture, even if she was just sitting there staring at her and her hand was a bit too tight, but she was coming to understand that was just Alice’s way.

“It—it’s okay,” Bella said finally. “I—I know you’re doing everything you can.”

“We are,” Edward said earnestly, and Alice nodded. “And I promise you we’ll find him.”

They fell into silence then. Alice had pulled Bella’s hand into her lap and seemed to be examining it. Edward kept looking at her and then looking away, while Emmett started tossing his baseball in the air and catching it. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, all things considered. No more so than Edward staring off out the window in biology, she thought with a twinge of amusement—until she remembered that there was probably a reason he did that beyond just being weird.

THWACK.

She started, looking up to see Alice’s hand out, right above her head, Emmett’s baseball clutched tightly in her fingers where she’d caught it.

“I almost had you,” Emmett said.

Alice shook her head. “No, I Saw it,” she said, with a smile that was almost sly, and tossed it back.

Emmett caught it easily, narrowing his eyes. Alice just stayed where she was, watching him—and then leapt off the arm of Bella’s chair just as Emmett threw the ball again to the side—and she caught it again.

The ball barely touched Emmett’s fingers before he threw it again, and it hit the side of the house, bouncing back higher at an angle—and then Alice was airborne, leaping up what had to be over fifteen feet in the air to catch it, and she landed on the deck like a cat, the ball clenched in her fingers while Emmett just threw his head back and groaned.

Bella gawped. She knew they were vampires, remembered everything Carlisle had said about them, that they were stronger and faster—but she had never seen it, and now her brain was struggling to catch up with the fact that she had just seen Alice move like something out of a movie.

“Emmett,” Edward said in a warning tone.

“What? She knows what we are,” he retorted. He turned to Bella and winked. “Watch this—hey, Alice—back here!” He stood and held out his hands as he called to her, and she tossed the ball back. He walked to the edge of the covered part of the deck and said, “Go high this time,” and then hauled back and hurled the ball in the air.

It vanished into the sky—and didn’t come back down, not for much longer than logic was telling Bella that it should have. But she couldn’t focus for that for long, because suddenly Alice was moving again, running towards the house, and then in a single bound she leaped, and landed on the first story roof, and then up to the second, and then launched herself in the air—just in time to catch the baseball as it fell back to earth, and then she landed with barely a thud on top of the clematis-covered patio.

Emmett stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “And there’s another out by Alice Cullen, and that wraps it up for this inning, and the scores are all tied up, ladies and gentleman, with a fabulous play by the MVP of the Forks Vampires!” he crowed in an announcer voice.

Alice’s upside-down, grinning face suddenly poked through the foliage. Bella was still gaping, but there was a helpless sort of smile stretching her open mouth now.

Edward’s arms were crossed, like he was trying to look disapproving, but he was clearly failing—a little smile was tugging the corner of his mouth. At least until he caught Bella looking at him, and then his cheeks flushed and he looked at the ground.

Alice appeared again, nimbly jumping down from the trellis and tossing the ball to Emmett. “Again!” she demanded. And then almost disappeared faster than Bella could even register it as Emmett ducked out from under the cover and send the ball hurtling across the meadow right in the direction Alice went. Bella had to stand up and move away to watch, but Alice had already completely disappeared into the surrounding woods.

“It’s—this is kind of a game they play,” Edward said, sounding almost apologetic as Alice came zipping back. He’d stood up too, although he was staying a goodish distance away. “Emmett trying to throw the ball before she Sees it.”

Emmett had the ball again and was moving off the deck to the grass, this time was throwing the ball over the trees, and Bella could only watch in amazement as Alice leapt again, and this time climbed up the nearest tree like a monkey on a stick and then was bounding across the treetops to catch it.

“Wow,” she said, breathless. “That—that looks like so much fun.”

Edward blinked a little. “Uh…yeah it—it kind of is.”

“Does he do that with you?” she asked, and then felt unreasonably embarrassed as he looked at her. “I mean—wouldn’t you—couldn’t you know what he was going to do before he did it too?”

“Oh. Um, yes. I mean, I do know, and we—we did play like that, some times. A while ago.”

“What—not anymore?” she asked, edging out further to watch.

Edward frowned. “No.”

Bella looked at him. “What—did Alice steal your playmate?”

Edward blinked at her, and then scowled. “No—Emmett just figured out how to mostly block me.”

“Oh—so you couldn’t cheat anymore.”

She couldn’t help a bit of a laugh at Edward’s indignant look. Then, when she realized what he said, she asked, “Oh—so you can be blocked?”

He licked his lips. “Not—not like the way you do,” he said after a moment. “I just—it’s not like I hear literally everything everyone is thinking. Just whatever is at the forefront.” Bella had moved off the deck at his point, watching Emmett and Alice and their wild game of catch, and Edward had followed, although still at a distance, and so now was toeing at the grass. “If—if someone practices, then they can sort of…cover up certain things. I only…hear what they want me to hear.”

Bella peered at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. His tone had gone from annoyed to something else as he spoke, and she got the feeling that something about her question was bothering him. But she was unable to help herself from probing a little further. “So you can’t…shut it off?”

Edward jammed his hands in his pockets. “No,” he said, his voice flat.

Bella tried to imagine hearing everything everyone thought, all the time… “That sucks,” she said frankly.

Edward jumped a little, but now was finally looking back at her. “Um…yeah. It…it kind of does.” He hurried to add, “I’m used to it, though. I mean, it’s been this way for a long time, but…yeah, it kinda does, um, suck.”

Bella didn’t know what to say to that, so she settled for watching Emmett and Alice in silence for a while, Emmett yelling out increasingly wild directions, and Alice following them with increasingly wild acrobatics, that some part of Bella still couldn’t quite believe she was seeing.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” She turned around to find Edward looking at her with slightly widened eyes and turning rather red in the face.

“I just mean—that after—after everything—your dad’s friend and—and your hand—and—I just wanted to know if you were all right.” His voice had gotten smaller as he spoke, and now he was just hunched in on himself, not looking at her.

Oh.

“Um…I guess so,” she said. “I mean…I’ve kind of had a rough week,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, but immediately regretted it when Edward cringed. “But I…I guess I’m holding up.” She looked at him. “…Are you okay?”

He looked startled by her question, and while she was used to him jumping when she spoke, this time she couldn’t help the way her face heated, and she looked away before hesitantly continuing. “I mean, I…I know that I…I’m sorry I—”

“No.” His voice was hard when he suddenly cut her off, and she looked up in surprise. “None of this is in any way your fault.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But I can still feel bad if I’ve made things harder for you without realizing it.” Edward wouldn’t look at her, which she took for confirmation that she had some times. “You can…you can tell me if I’m doing something, and I’ll stop,” she said.

“You shouldn’t have to do anything,” he said flatly. “I—I should be stronger than this.”

If what Carlisle said was true, that seemed a somewhat unreasonable assessment. “That doesn’t mean I can’t try to help,” she said. “We can ask Mr. Banner to move seats or something, or I can wear long sleeves, or whatever. I am kind of looking out for me, too,” she added dryly.

He looked first surprised, and then frustrated. “How can you talk like this?” he demanded. “I could—I could hurt you! I almost did! How can you just take that lightly?”

“I’m not—I’m being practical, here,” she argued. “If being around me—bothers you, and certain things makes it worse, then it seems to me that I’d be pretty stupid not to try to avoid it. And unless you’re some kind of sick masochist, you should want me to be more careful, too.”

“But you’re so—so—”

“Sanguine?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“Exactly! You can’t just—” he broke off, the pun finally registering, and his expression turned appalled when she raised her eyebrows to make it clear that it intentional.

She just sighed and shook her head. “Look, Edward—I meant it when I said that I’ve had a really crappy week. This is a whole lot to take in. And yes, you really, really scared me.” He flinched. “But I just have to get used to the idea that things are different now, and I always say that when something like this happens, you can either laugh about it, or cry. And I hate crying, so…” And she shrugged.

Edward was looking at the ground again, kicking at a tuft of grass. “You’re lucky,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “I never—I never got the hang of that. I never seem to be able to be…”

“Sanguine,” she prompted, and he gave her a look, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“No, I—I think that’s the last thing I need to be,” he said after a moment, smiling a little wider—and then anxiously looked up at her to check if that had been okay.

It had been, and she rewarded him with a smile, which left him looking relieved.

Bella realized that they had been meandering slightly toward the tree line as they talked, and she turned around to see where Emmett and Alice were. They’d moved some distance away, and appeared to be throwing the baseball back and forth now—although “appeared” was all she could say about it, as they were still moving at ridiculous speeds that she was having trouble processing—it just didn’t look real.

She squinted against sudden brightness. Daylight savings time hadn’t quite kicked in, so the sun was already lower in the sky, just above the treetops in the clearing, but still high enough so that the passing break in the clouds flooded the meadow with late-afternoon sunshine. Bella closed her eyes and tilted her face up. She always had loved the look of bars of sunlight shining through the clouds from a distance, and she always liked picturing that she was standing in one of those bright rays when she sun shone down on her like this.

She looked back down, blinking a little, and was surprised to see that Edward had retreated quite a ways back, deep in the shade of the nearest tree, and was looking a bit warily at her and the border of the shade and the sun.

“…What are you doing?” she asked, coming closer. “I’ve seen you outside in the sun before.”

“Not like this,” he said tersely.

“Oh.” She tried to remember what Carlisle had said. “Not all covered up? Does it—does it hurt?”

“No—well, yes,” he said, even though he was shaking his head and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “But just—just sort of like a sunburn. But no, I’m not covered up, and I don’t have any makeup on.”

She did a double-take. “…You wear makeup?”

“We all do!” he said, defensive. “We have to, or you’d be able to tell in the sunlight!”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

He blew out a breath and cast around for a moment. “You—you were in AP Biology before, right?” At her nod he said, “So you studied the electron transport chain?”

“Uh, a little,” she said, a bit baffled where he was going with this.

“So you know that your body can turn food into useable energy by transferring that energy between different molecules?”

“…Yeah?”

“Well, we—our kind, best we can tell, have kind of a—an additional system for doing that where we can get extra energy from light,” he said.

She stared. “You have photosynthesis?”

“No! Well…I guess…kind of?” He looked frustrated. “I don’t—I can’t really explain it much better, because we don’t—we don’t know a lot about it ourselves. But from what little work we’ve been able to do on it, it seems like part of the reason we can be so strong and fast—” he nodded towards Emmett and Alice flying through the air in the field, “—is that we do pull additional energy from light. We have some kind of fluorescent molecules in our skin to capture it.” He grunted. “We don’t need a lot of light, though—just the reflected moonlight is plenty. Nocturnal, and all. The sunlight’s too much, so it kind of hurts, and the UV excites all the molecules at once so that the fluorescence is, well…visible.”

“Do you glow in the dark, or something?!”

“Fluorescence, not phosphorescence,” he corrected, sounding testy.

She rolled her eyes. “Edward, seriously—what is it?”

He grimaced. “You’ll laugh,” he muttered, looking at the ground.

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly.

Edward gave a put-upon sigh, and then edged out into the light, and instantly he burst into…

…sparkles.

Bella blinked.

Yep—sparkling. That’s what he was doing. It wasn’t crazy-bright or anything, but there was no denying that as he moved she could see thousands of glittery little flashes all over his arms and face.

She blinked again. “…Wow, Edward,” she finally managed, her lips trembling in an effort to keep her face straight as she spoke. “You’re…dazzling.”

And she couldn’t help it—she cracked up.

He stepped sharply back into the shade again, scowling, and she just had to add through her laughter, “No wonder Alice likes Eighties music so much—you guys should start a glam metal band!” He gave her an extremely dirty look. Bella just waved a hand at him, trying to get herself under control. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, still giggling a little. “You—you weren’t kidding about visible.” She edged over to stand a little closer to him. “Show me again?”

He gave another loud sigh, but obligingly stuck one bare arm out into the sunlight.

She couldn’t help but lean in to look a little closer; he turned his arm over and flexed his hand as she did, and the motion of his arm caused all the tiny flecks of light to flash across his skin, miniscule points of light winking in all the colors of the rainbow like the fire in a diamond. It was…pretty, really, if very strange.

She bent closer and reached out without thinking to rub one finger across his skin; the sudden tension in his arm beneath her fingertip made her realize that she was standing much closer to him than she had since—well, since then, and she took a hurried step back.

“I guess it is pretty obvious,” she said, filling the suddenly uncomfortable silence. “But, I mean, you can’t blame me for laughing—it’s not exactly ‘children of the night’ kind of stuff.” He snorted a little, so she went on, “But Carlisle said you guys don’t do much of that traditional stuff anyway, so if you have reflections and don’t turn into bats and don’t sleep in coffins, sparkling doesn’t seem like that big a deal.”

He smiled, and shook his head as he said, “No—mirrors are fine, no shapeshifting, and we don’t sleep.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “What—you don’t sleep—at all?”

“No. We don’t sweat, we don’t cry, and we don’t sleep.” His smile had faded as he spoke.

“That…sounds kinda rough,” she said after a moment. On the one hand, she figured that they could get a lot done in a day, but man, not being able to turn things off for a while…

Edward gave a sharp little laugh with an unmistakable tinge of bitterness. “Yeah. Carlisle didn’t mention that part.”

“What?”

“Carlisle changed me—us. All of us except Jasper and Alice.”

Shock lanced through her. “What—he said—he bit you?! He said you don’t—”

“No, no!” Edward was quick to reassure her, coming to stand at the edge of the tree’s shadow. “He didn’t—he didn’t eat us, or anything. He would never. But he—he’s a doctor. He saves lives, and we—we all were dying.”

She was just looking at him, so he went on. “We all were, one way or another, when he found us. We were sick or injured and weren’t going to make it, but we—we didn’t want to die, and he…offered. And we accepted.” He looked down at the grass beneath their feet. “I—I was his first. 1918.”

She noticed the date immediately and couldn’t help but ask, “What, did you—did you have the ‘flu?”

He looked surprised, and gave a rueful little smile that quickly faded. “I—yeah,” he sighed. “My whole family, we—we’d had diphtheria that spring, so we were already pretty weak, and then that August…”

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. She meant it, even if it was all she could think to say.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, but she could see that it looked a bit forced. “It was a long time ago.”

“Incoming!”

Edward grabbed her arm and pulled her back, just as Emmett sailed through the air past where they were standing. He landed with a thud, actually churning up the turf beneath him as he skidded to a halt.

He held the baseball aloft. “Got it!” he bellowed triumphantly across the meadow to Alice.

“Will you watch what you’re doing?!” Edward snapped.

Emmett stood and dusted himself off, completely unselfconscious about the fact that he was sparkling in the sun. “I am—didn’t you see that catch?”

“You’re going to hurt someone like that!”

Emmett rolled his eyes extravagantly. “I’m not gonna hurt her, Ed, chill out.” He leaned in close to Bella and said in a stage whisper, “Edward here thinks you’re made of glass.”

“Shut up!” Edward was bristling like an angry cat, spots of color appearing on his hollow cheeks. Emmett was unperturbed and just took a friendly swipe at Edward—who dodged almost before Emmett had moved.

Emmett narrowed his eyes. “He cheats, too,” he told her. “Him and Alice both.”

Bella was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

“The trick is to outsmart him,” said Emmett. “You gotta think of something to distract him so he can’t see what you’re gonna do.” He took another swing that whiffed again as Edward darted out of the way.

“Cut it out, Emmett!”

Watching Emmett needling Edward, Bella had to ask, “Are you two sure you aren’t really brothers?”

Emmett let out a loud laugh and stopped grabbing at Edward, who stopped moving too, but remained tense, watching him warily. “Yeah,” he said, pointedly looking down at him, “But I just gotta remind him now and again that I don’t care if he’s older than me—he’s still the little brother.” And he turned a positively evil look on Edward, who suddenly flushed nearly purple and started sputtering—and before Bella could blink Emmett had him in a headlock.

She couldn’t help it—she started giggling as Emmett crowed, “Got ‘im!” over Edward’s furious protests. He was clawing futilely in Emmett’s grip, and could only yell when Emmett gave him a noogie. “This is what happens to uptight little pantywaists when they get their knickers in a twist,” Emmett said, and then planted a loud, smacking kiss on the crown of Edward’s head. Bella was still giggling when Emmett moved again, adroitly flipping Edward around in his arms; now he had him around the middle, still bent over under his arm but now facing the other way, his shirt riding up to reveal a stripe of sparkly white skin above his jeans, his feet scrabbling uselessly at the grass beneath him as he yelled for Emmett to let him go.

“Maybe if he wasn’t wearing these girly tighty-whiteys all the time,” Emmett said, almost musingly, and Bella clapped her hands over her mouth to hold back her laughter as Emmett reached for Edward’s waistband.

And then with a yell, he suddenly threw Edward away from him, clutching at his side where he’d been holding him. Edward recovered his feet nimbly, looking utterly furious, and Bella realized that he had a scrap of Emmett’s shirt in his mouth, which he yanked out and threw angrily to the ground.

“You know what’s number one on FILA’s list of illegal wrestling moves? Biting!” Emmett said in outrage, still holding his side. “Not cool, Ed!”

Bella nearly bent double to keep from cackling right in their faces. Edward was snarling something at Emmett, but it was too low for her to hear, but she heard Emmett breezily answer, “Like she cares that you wear briefs.”

“Will you just go away?!”

Emmett just chuckled and scooped up the baseball from where he dropped it in the scuffle. “Hey, Alice!” he boomed. “Go high!” And he shot it up toward the house, only for Alice, who had been approaching them at a trot, to suddenly go streaking toward the house and bound up on the roof to snatch it out of midair. Emmett looked back at Bella, tossed her a wink, and then loped off.

Edward glared after him like he was trying to light him on fire with his mind, and then rounded on her. “That wasn’t funny,” he ground out.

Her laughter had tapered off to giggling, and she answered, “Yeah, it totally was. You bit him.”

“What was I supposed to do?!” he demanded, still clearly seething. “Just stand there and let him—” He waved his arm. “Let him embarrass me like that?!”

“Oh, relax,” she said, still grinning, and he was so wound-up that she couldn’t help but tease him further by adding, “I wouldn’t judge you for wearing white underwear when mine are purple.”

Only that backfired on her; Edward whipped around to stare at her, wide-eyed, a bright flush spreading over his face, and for a split second she saw his eyes flick downward.

Mortified, she looked away, intently watching Emmett and Alice leaping around after the ball again and trying to ignore the suddenly thick silence. She had never been more thankful for Edward’s awkward conversational attempts when he coughed slightly in the silence and stiffly asked, “Did—uh—did you—how did tests go? Midterms, I mean.”

“Oh—um, okay, I guess,” she said, and she cringed inwardly at her overly bright voice. “I mean—” She cleared her throat. “I—I wasn’t in the best frame of mind for them, but I—I did okay.” Edward had winced at her words and now was looking sorry he’d brought it up; it seemed like no matter what they talked about, somehow it got awkward again. “What—what did you guys do? Since you were out of school?” she asked.

“Oh—um, Carlisle had excused us. We went up on Saturday morning to take our tests.” He was looking mostly at the ground again as he spoke, but then suddenly looked away, scanning the treetops to the north.

A thought occurred to her. “So—I guess it isn’t just sports where you can cheat?” That…was an aggravating idea. She was pretty high up in the school class ranking, but when you were competing with someone who could read the teachers’ minds—that wasn’t at all fair.

Edward turned sharply back at her, looking indignant. “I don’t cheat!” At her raised eyebrow, he deflated slightly. “I’m not—I’m not cheating, I don’t—I can’t help that I hear things! Besides,” he huffed, “anything I hear about schoolwork is mostly drowned out everything else I have to hear on a daily basis!”

He broke off again, his head turning to look toward the north. It was almost like being back in school—weird, stammering conversation with Edward intermittently looking off. She took a few steps back; he hadn’t said it outright, but Bella was rather guiltily sure that his tendency not to look at her so often had to do with the fact that he was smelling her, so she put a little distance between them. Still, the situation was familiar enough that she still felt comfortable probing a little, following up on his line of thought. “I hadn’t really thought about that. Stuck all day with a bunch of teenagers, and with what you can do—that’s gotta be a fun experience.”

“You have no idea,” he said fervently, turning back to her.

She couldn’t help a little smile. “I shudder to think the kinds of things you hear all day.”

He nodded vigorously. “And feel, too.”

“Oh, wow—you mean it’s not, just, like, thoughts?”

“No, it is thoughts—but people don’t really think in words, you know,” he said. “My gift—I have to be able to read the physical and emotional associations to go with it, or I wouldn’t be able to make any sense of what people are thinking.” He huffed through his nose. “So if I’m sitting next to someone who is thinking about how much they have to go to the bathroom, then I feel like I have to go to the bathroom too—and I don’t even do that anymore!”

Bella snorted, biting her lip as she smiled. “Man—that’s…” she shook her head. “I don’t even know. So, it’s not exactly as easy as the X-Men make it out to be.”

“Not at all—it took me years to get used to it—to keep my thoughts—my mind—separate from everyone else’s.” He swallowed. “Sometimes I—sometimes I still feel like I’ve lost myself.”

The levity had disappeared, and Bella looked away uncomfortably. Edward was scanning the northern tree line again, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows. Casting around, she tried, “Well, I guess I at least know who to go to for the latest school drama.”

He gave a loud snort, and then immediately looked embarrassed by it, but said, “I—I try to maintain everyone’s privacy…but I probably know things about people at school that would curl your hair.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little as she said, “I bet,” and once again silently thanked the powers that be that he couldn’t hear her. “Anything in particular going on, then? Any word on the latest dirt, or anything?”

He gave a little chuff of laughter. “No. Everyone just wanting to get out for break, and people already obsessing over prom.”

“That’s a month and a half away!” she protested, just as she had with Jessica and Angela.

“I know! But it’s a big deal for some people—Alice is certainly excited.”

“Oh—is she going?”

Edward was nodding. “None of us had ever really gone before, in any of our times in school—this is Rose, Emmett, and my third time to be in high school, but only Alice and Jasper's second. Alice has only gone to school once before, back in the Eighties.”

“Oh—is that why she likes that music so much?”

He nodded, rolling his eyes. “Yes. She completely embraced the Eighties scene—she must have had a dozen pairs of legwarmers," he said, making Bella snicker. "It was her first time really out among society,” he went on. “She and Jasper joined us in the early Sixties, not long after we left Forks that first time we lived here. School is a good way for us to build identities for a while, to blend in, but Alice…well, you know her,” he said, shrugging a little. “It took some time before we felt that she could manage being among people without being…too obvious,” he said delicately. “And even then, we didn’t mingle much beyond classes, so no prom then, even though she wanted to go. But this time, she talked us into it. Everyone—Rose never went to a prom either, and she’s gotten on board too, and they’re both already planning their dresses.” He scowled. “So there isn’t even any escape here from everyone thinking about it, either.”

Bella had noticed his omission. “What—you aren’t going?”

He looked startled, and then flushed. “Ah—well—no. Why would I? It’s not really my—my style, and Jasper and Emmett will take Rose and Alice, of course, so I—there’s really no point.”

“I dunno—I thought maybe if everyone else was going, you would too,” Bella remarked. “I mean, if you guys are gonna keep going to school, might as well do some fun things now and again. Make it more enjoyable.”

He grunted. “Nothing very enjoyable about going by myself and being a wallflower.”

Bella couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped her. “What? Edward, come on—you think ‘the biggest pimp in Forks’ couldn’t find a date?”

Edward managed looked both embarrassed and offended at the same time. “That’s—that’s not the point!” he blustered.

“So what is the point?” she countered.

“That’s—that’s cheating!” he declared. “You know—you know what I am! You know what I—what I do to people—to girls. I couldn’t—I can’t just ask someone out like that—it would be like I was forcing her!”

He was right, which was a sobering thought. “Well, okay,” she ventured, “but, I would think if you were being clear about it, that it was just as friends, it could be okay.”

He had his hands back in his pockets and was looking at the ground. “It’s still not fair,” he said flatly. “I make people feel things they normally wouldn’t, and I can see what they’re thinking. I couldn’t—I couldn’t even ask someone as friends without—without cheating.”

“Fair enough,” she said after a moment, conceding. “I guess we can both stay home and be pathetic.”

He looked up at that. “What—of course someone will ask you!” He looked almost indignant at her words.

She just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, Edward,” she scoffed. It was easier to brush it off than dwell on the fact that she knew no one was interested.

Edward just blinked down at her. “You won’t—you aren’t going at all?”

She sighed. “No one is going to ask me, and yeah, I really can’t pick on you about not going stag since I wouldn’t either,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s not really my scene, either—although I suppose I would go if someone actually did ask me.” She snorted. “I probably would have gone with you if you’d asked me before.”

Silence. She looked up at Edward to find him staring at her. “You—you would have?”

His voice was very small, and Bella felt a squirming sensation in her middle. She shrugged to play it off. “Yeah, if you’d just wanted a friend to go with you,” she said, keeping her voice casual. “At least you wouldn’t have had to worry about cheating or forcing me into anything.”

She looked up and found that he was still staring at her, and the squirming in her middle intensified—only to be abruptly cut off as he jerked around to look north again. And it really wasn’t like at school, she realized. He was looking all around, scanning the tree line, and his eyebrows were heavily furrowed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I keep—I keep thinking I hear something,” he said.

She strained to listen, but didn’t hear anything. Granted, she supposed his vampire hearing was better than hers. “What is it?” she asked.

He looked down at her, clearly frustrated. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said. “But it—I swear I hear someone.”

She looked around in alarm, and he clarified, “No—not that. Hear.” And he tapped the side of his head.

“Oh—is there someone nearby?”

He frowned. “No—there shouldn’t be—we live way out here for a reason, but—” he stopped abruptly, his face tight, cocking his head as if he really was listening, and Bella held herself quiet and still out of reflex—

“Jesus!”

She jumped at his sudden exclamation, and she looked at him to see his mouth hanging open in horror, just as she heard Alice distantly shout, “Edward!”

“Oh my God!”

His icy fingers clamped on her wrist, and this time it was Edward who nearly yanked her off her feet as he dragged her toward the house, frantically yelling, “Emmett!”

“Edward—what—” But that was all she could manage, and he didn’t answer, and she could only desperately try to keep her feet as he ran toward the house, hauling her after him.

“He’s here, Emmett!” he yelled as they drew near the deck. “Alice—you have to get her out of here!”

Alice had flown up to meet them. “He’s right there in the trees, Edward!” she squeaked. “He’ll be here in just a minute—we can’t—”

“What the hell is going on?” Emmett demanded. “What—who’s coming here?!”

Bella was lost in the shouting. “What—?”

“He thinks we’re Imperials, he—we can’t let him see her!”

“What—who, Edward—is it someone we—?”

“It’s James!”

Chapter Text

“Who’s James?!”

Bella was struggling to catch up, bewildered by what was going on. She may have had no idea what Edward was talking about, but Alice and Emmett certainly seemed to. Alice’s mouth fell open, while Emmett’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“We have to get her out of here!” Edward hadn’t let go of Bella’s arm and was dragging her back towards the house again.

“He’s here, Edward—right there!”

Struggling to keep her feet, Bella still looked over to where Alice was frantically pointing, and there just at the edge of the clearing, she could see what looked like a person emerging from the trees.

“Alice, get her out of here!”

“We can’t—he’ll hear it, Edward—we have to hide her!”

“What’s going on?!” Bella tried again as she stumbled up the deck stairs

“Hurry—inside!” Edward barked.

Alice was already at the door, and Bella fell inside behind Edward. The wide windows of the house hid nothing; she could clearly see someone crossing the meadow, moving with unnatural speed toward the house.

“Quick—get her back somewhere out of sight—”

“What is going on?!”

“A vampire,” Emmett grimly said to her, and her already rising unease spiraled into true fear. He grabbed Edward by the shoulder, stopping his frantic aborted steps, where he’d been half-pacing like he didn’t know what to do next. “Alice, take Bella somewhere out of sight. Edward—I’m with you. Come on.”

Edward was clutching a handful of his hair, his face a study in panic. “It’s James, Emmett—he—he’ll—”

“I know, man—but we got this. Come on.” He nodded to Alice, and then slid the door open and went outside, one hand still firmly holding Edward’s shoulder.

Alice seized her arm and resumed dragging her along, this time down the hall and back into a room she hadn’t been in, one also lined with books like the library but with the large central computer desk looked more like an office. She led her right over to the curtained window and dropped into a crouch behind it; Bella didn’t need the force of her arm being yanked down as if by a boat anchor to drop down next to her.

“Alice, what’s going on?!” she demanded, the urgency of the situation compelling her to whisper. “Who is James?”

“A vampire,” she said curtly. “A bad one. He eats people. And he hurt Edward.” Her arm snaked up to quickly undo the latch to the window. “Stay back,” she said, and cracked it open just a little, and then, pressing her back against the wall, leaned around to listen.

Despite the fear crawling up her insides, Bella tilted her head just a little to peer through a gap in the curtains.

She didn’t see anything—and then suddenly she did. Someone rose into view up over the far deck stairs. He was darting around too quickly to see his face clearly, but she could tell it was a man. He dressed roughly, in ripped jeans, and appeared to be barefoot. He had no shirt, just an open jacket, and it was covered in dangling things that sparkled and danced as he walked. He had longish hair pulled back in a low tail, and he was scanning his surroundings as he crossed the deck.

“Hello there?” Bella heard him call. “Anybody home?”

“Here.” Even from so far away, she was shocked by the venom she heard in Edward’s voice as he and Emmett stepped out from the covered porch.

The other vampire turned, and now Bella could see his face, and the man’s mouth hung open for a moment before his face twisted with shock. “Oh, what the fuck!?”

Edward snarled something, but they were too far away for Bella to make it out. James, if that’s who he was, was advancing on them, clearly hostile. Emmett was standing silently behind Edward, his arms crossed, his normally smiling face set in stone.

Bella’s heart hammered in her ears. No rules for vampires “dealing” with each other, Carlisle had said—now she badly wished that she’d asked for clarification. What did that mean—what was going to happen? James was right up in Edward’s face now, a feral grin on his face as he spoke; Edward’s face was contorting, and she heard him spit something at James, but he just threw his head back and laughed loudly.

She reached out and tapped Alice’s arm, and when she looked at her, Bella hissed, as quietly as she could, “What’s going on?”

“He thought we were Imperials—but we aren’t,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Now James is angry, and he’s saying bad things to Edward.” Her eyes unfocussed slightly. “They’re going to fight—no, they aren’t—no, they are—” She stood up. “I need to go out there, in case they—”

And suddenly her jaw went slack, her head listing to the side and her eyes staring off into the distance.

Bella could still dimly hear words, snatches of conversation, which was getting louder, angrier, even if she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Alice was still standing there, stock still, her eyes looking at nothing.

“Alice?”

Nothing. Bella turned back to peer out through the slit in the curtains; James and Edward were nose-to-nose, and James was grinning at him, while Edward looked at him with his face twisted with hate, and Bella braced herself to see them come to blows—

“…he knows me.”

She looked back around to Alice. She was still staring off into nothing, but she had spoken, her voice tinier than Bella had ever heard it. “He knows me—he says my name is…”

“What?”

Her eyes snapped into focus. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. And then she vanished, leaving Bella all alone in the office, increasingly confused and now selfishly panicked that if someone came into this room then she wouldn’t have anybody to protect her.

She quickly turned back to the window, and head the door slide open, saw James whirl around, and then his went mouth slack, just as Edward let out a loud exclamation and staggered backwards into Emmett, and then James just yelled, “Mary?”

And a split second later his face contorted with rage, and he roared, “You pig-fucker, you stole her?!” and then leapt.

Bella’s heart was caught in her throat as one moment James was standing on the deck, then he was in the air—and then he was clawing at Emmett’s hand. Emmett, who had him by the throat while his feet dangled in the air. Emmett pulled him in close, said something, and then dropped him in a graceless sprawl on the deck.

He leapt to his feet an instant later, spat something at them, and then immediately turned tail and left. Bella watched him go, and it wasn’t until he’d disappeared back into the trees that she felt herself relax slightly—but immediately tensed up again, because Edward let out an inarticulate howl at the sky and then went storming into the house.

She scrambled her to feet and ran down the hall, and as she rounded the staircase she could hear Alice demanding, “Mary—he said my name was Mary, Edward—what he did he mean?”

“Not now, Alice!” Emmett barked.

Bella skidded to a halt in the living room. Edward was down on his knees, his hands fisted in his hair, rocking slightly.

Alice was intently focused on Edward and didn’t move, but Emmett glanced over at her where she stood. He licked his lips and then leaned down, his big hands coming to rest on Edward’s shoulders. “Come on, Edward,” he said. “Get up. We need to take care of Bella.”

Edward stilled, and then his head tilted up, and Bella’s stomach clenched at the look in his red-rimmed eyes. “Sweetheart, I think it’s best if you get back home,” Emmett said gently.

She swallowed and nodded. Whatever was going on, she was just in the way.

“I’ll take her.” Edward had leapt to his feet as he spoke.

“Oh—um, it’s okay—I drove—”

“I’m going with you!” His tone brooked no argument, and she looked at Emmett, who just nodded, and then Edward was there, his hand gripping her elbow tightly. She had no time to say goodbye; he just ushered her out the front door, his gaze darting all around as they stepped outside, watching for anything as he escorted her back to her truck.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said tersely as she slid inside, and then shut her door and made for the SUV.

She was tailgated the whole drive home; when Edward said he’d be behind her, he meant it, following her at an uncomfortably close distance. She was half-afraid to brake most of the time for fear that he would run up her bumper, but he never did. She could see his grim face in her rearview mirror the whole time.

It wasn’t much of a relief to get home. She pulled into the driveway, and Edward parked next to her, but he immediately shot out of the car and disappeared behind the house. He re-emerged on the other side. “It’s clear,” he said shortly, his hand once again cupping her elbow. “Let’s go inside.”

He too walked right in behind her without an invitation, and proceeded to prowl around the entire house—apparently searching the place. He was so grim and tense that she couldn’t even protest him going up the stairs and searching her bedroom without so much as a by-your-leave. She was just thankful that she’d made her bed this morning, and prayed that all her dirty clothes were in the hamper. And, in a sudden reversal, also hoped that the window she’d left cracked let in enough air that the roses still in her window didn’t bother him.

Edward came back down the stairs. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes still darting all around the room. “There’s no one here,” he said, his voice hard. “You stay in the house—don’t go anywhere alone where he might find you, and don’t—”

“Edward.”

He stopped abruptly, finally meeting her eye. “Edward,” she said again, “what is going on.”

He was silent, his whole body rigid, quivering slightly where he stood. He swallowed, but seemed unable to speak. At his continued silence, she tried again: “Who is James?”

“A monster!” he barked, startling her. “He’s a sadist and a murderer and he—”

He broke off suddenly and looked away.

Bella nibbled on her thumb for a moment before taking a risk and putting her hand on Edward’s elbow, like he had for her.

And he immediately jumped a mile, jerking back. Her face heated, but she tried again, and this time he let her, and she tugged him around to the couch. He came docilely enough, although his eyes were fixed on the floor, and she sat down so she could look up at him.

“Edward,” she tried once more, keeping her voice as gentle as she could manage. “What happened?”

He closed his eyes tightly, and then just collapsed on the other end the couch. She was quiet as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his head bowed, until he finally spoke. “I—I met James. Once before. A long time ago. I didn’t—I didn’t know what he was. No,” he suddenly spat, his voice harsh, “I knew exactly what he was—but I—I deluded myself into thinking he wasn’t a monster.”

Bella didn’t speak; she sensed that he needed to work out what to say on his own, so she let him, and after a moment, he spoke again. “I—he finally—he was going to try to bite someone—to change someone,” he said, his words halting. “A girl. She was—she was in an asylum—a mental hospital. She was catatonic, but she—she was going to be so powerful—but I had to—I had to try and stop him but I—”

He broke off again, folding in on himself so that he was bent nearly double over his knees. “I couldn’t. I tried and I couldn’t, he just—he fought me and he was stronger and he knew how to block me—I taught him how—and I couldn’t stop him and he kept beating me, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

Bella’s hands were clenched in her lap.

“It burned down.” Edward’s voice was so, so small. “The hospital. We fought, and a fire started and it—it burned down. All of it.” He swallowed. “And everyone in it.”

She couldn’t help her gasp, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Edward flinched as if the sound physically pained him. “I couldn’t save her—I couldn’t save any of them.”

Silence.

“I just wanted to—I just thought—if I could save her…but I couldn’t. I just…I just killed them.”

Tentatively, Bella scooted closer and reached out one hand to touch his shoulder, but he recoiled as if burned, and she yanked her hand back.

“Except Mary,” he said abruptly. “I thought she was dead—that I’d killed her first—but I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Mary. The girl. Mary Brandon—of course. Mary Alice Brandon.” An awful, strangled mockery of a laugh escaped him, one hand flying up to fist in his hair. “It was her all this time—I never knew—how did I not recognize her?!”

It took Bella a moment to catch up, but then, “…you mean it was Alice? The girl he—he wanted to change?”

That awful laugh again. “I barely saw her—just tried to get her away from James and then—she was bleeding, and then she wasn’t moving anymore, and I had—I thought she was dead!”

His left hand joined his right, his fingers knotting in his hair, and he was starting that terrible rocking again.

Not knowing what else to do, her head swimming with what little he’d said, she reached out for his shoulder again. He tensed, but he didn’t pull away, and so Bella tentatively moved to lightly rub his back, and after a moment, the rocking stilled.

He didn’t speak again, but he didn’t move, and since Bella genuinely had no idea what to say, she just kept up her gentle petting, until gradually he released his grip on his hair.

“Alice is here now,” she finally said. “And…and she’s safe and happy—and with Jasper.”

Edward didn’t speak, but he finally looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed.

She licked her lips and went on. “I—it’s awful that happened, but you—you tried to stop it. Even if—even if you couldn’t, it was still James who was to blame.”

Edward had been staring at her as she spoke, but at her last words he suddenly jerked his head to the side, looking away and pulling back from her hand. “I have to go,” he said, his voice rough. “James—he’s still out there. I—we have to make sure he’s gone.” He looked back at her, and grabbed her shoulders suddenly. “Bella—you have to promise me that you’ll stay here—that you’ll stay safe until we know he’s gone,” he said, his voice intense.

He’d pulled her toward him, his grip tight; she hadn’t been this close to him since—since Wednesday, and her stomach clenched, but she nodded.

He too suddenly seemed to realize their proximity and abruptly released her, scooching over toward the end of the couch and looking away.

“How—how will you know he’s gone?” she managed to ask.

His mouth tightened. “I know him—now that I know he’s here, I know who to listen for, and Alice knows who to Look for. We’ll find him and make him leave—and if he doesn’t, then I’ll put him down like a dog.”

The last word came out as a snarl, and Bella saw the points of his fangs past his lips and gasped. Edward’s eyes went wide, and he jerked his head to the side, his hand over his mouth.

The room was silent again, save for the sound of her breathing, until Edward too seemed to take a breath and turned back to her. “I need to go,” he said, his voice deliberately even. She couldn’t see his teeth. “We—we have to make sure he’s gone, and that you—that everyone is safe.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding, and stood up as he did too, following as he went toward the front door.

He opened it, but then stopped abruptly and turned around, hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand. “I—” he started, then stopped, and then started again. “I promise you’ll be safe,” he said, his voice low. “I couldn’t—I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The clenching feeling in her stomach was somehow different this time. She tried to say something, couldn’t, and so just nodded before managing, “Okay.”

His cold fingers squeezed her hand, his pale eyes staring into hers, and then he released her and left, going down the steps and sliding into his SUV. She stood in the doorway as he backed out of the driveway and then drove off down the street.

Bella watched until he was out of sight, and then turned back into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. She crossed the hall into the living room, dropping gracelessly onto the couch as she tried to make sense of everything.

A vampire in Forks—and for real this time. An awful vampire, if what Edward said was anything to go by. What he’d said—that James had killed so many people…

She rubbed her forehead, wrapping her other arm around her middle. At least the Cullens knew who it was now. That was something, she supposed—Edward seemed to think that would be enough for them to get a bead on him and see to it that he left. But still, James had not seemed particularly intimidated. Although it had only been three of the Cullens there today. Surely seven against one would be enough to convince him to go elsewhere.

To keep killing elsewhere. She twisted uncomfortably in her seat. Through all the revelations of the past few days, she hadn’t really considered things beyond concern for her own immediate safety. But now that she was confronted with the idea of a murderer in the area who would be driven away so she would be safe…only to keep murdering elsewhere…it was not a comfortable thought.

But he wasn’t human—he was a vampire. Apparently human justice didn’t apply to him. Even though it should—it did to the Cullens. But only by their choice. Vampires seemed to operate outside the law, and even though she couldn’t help her instinctive relief that there weren’t going to be any of them here anymore, it didn’t change the fact that it was going to be at the expense of others.

She rubbed her hand over her eyes. She supposed that was the price of knowing that monsters were real: also knowing that people died because of them.

She thought she might have dozed off a little, worn out from the adrenaline of the afternoon, because she blinked and looked up at the clock on the mantel to find that it was nearly five. Charlie said he would call or text when he’d be coming home, but she hadn’t really made any dinner plans. She supposed she should go figure out what to cook tonight.

She stood and went into the kitchen, pulling her phone out of her pocket to see if she’d missed a message. Nothing, so she left it and her wallet on the kitchen table as she went over to the sink and filled a glass of water for a drink.

Her phone suddenly went off, vibrating on the table as it rang. Ah—there he was. She set her glass down on the counter and went back over to get it. She looked at the screen, and felt her brow furrow a little when she saw it was Alice again. She moved her thumb to the call button, when sudden movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn around.

Bella froze, her phone falling from her nerveless fingers and landing with a thud on the floor.

A man was walking down the stairs.

He moved like a cat, all lithe, liquid grace as he flowed silently down the steps. His pale feet and chiseled chest were bare, and all the dangling, sparkling things on his jeans and jacket jangled as he moved.

He was in the kitchen in the blink of an eye, and he was smiling, the points of his fangs just poking past his full upper lip, and his eyes burned a brilliant gold.

“Well, well, well,” he crooned. “What have we here?”

Chapter Text

Bella’s cheek was pressing against something hard. Hard, rough, and kinda damp. She didn’t know what. Everything was fuzzy; she just wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t because it was so hard where she was lying.

And because of the voices. Loud, shouting voices. She was pretty sure that was what woke her up. Except she didn’t remember going to sleep.

She opened eyelids that felt like lead, just enough to see she was somewhere dimly lit, but even stranger, she seemed to be on the floor.

“I don’t care what stupid score you have to settle—this has nothing to do with me and I don’t want any part of it!”

“Didn’t you see how they’re fit up? I’m telling you—this isn’t just about a score, this could be a real opportunity!”

“What I saw looked Imperial—I told you not to go marching in there!”

“And I told you that they aren’t! Imperials hate these sick fucks—so how did they get that sweet setup, then? If they’re not getting Imperial cash, then how the hell are they living so high on the hog?”

“What does it matter, James?”

James.

Bella’s eyes flew open, terror roaring up inside her, white-hot and loud.

James—James in her house—James coming toward her—and then darkness.

She clamped her eyes shut again, her heart pounding out of control, and her slight movements caused an eruption of pain in her head, spiking at the back and wrapping all around her skull. Biting her lip so hard she was afraid she might bleed, she opened her eyes again, just a slit.

She was in what looked like some kind of old, abandoned wooden building. Up in the attic; she could see where the floor ended over the space below. The boards were rotting, holes in the roof and the walls showing the deepening blue sky outside, but otherwise it was empty, just a few piles of junk here and there, and scattered old straw.

And there was a vampire inside with her.

Bella’s eyes shut again as she bit back a pathetic whimper. Oh, God—James had her. A vampire had her—a real one.

Two real ones, she suddenly realized in horror, because there were two raised voices, and who else would James be arguing with about the Imperium but another vampire? And when she forced herself to open her eyes again, she could see them, two of them, James and a woman in a fluttering red top with a mane of long black curls—vampires, right there, here with her, and she was all alone.

Bella fought to keep herself from complete panic, trying to keep still and quiet so they wouldn’t know that she was awake, so maybe she could get away—maybe she could—maybe—

“I’m telling you, Victoria, we can use this! They’re obviously up to something—”

“No, they aren’t! You just want them to be!”

Bella squirmed back slightly, holding her position as best she could, fighting to keep her breathing from whistling through her nose, staying slow and quiet, trying to keep them from noticing her as she inched backwards, trying to figure out where she was, trying to figure out how to get away. Stakes—there was old wood here, and they would work, Carlisle said so. But Rosalie had said it too—could she really do it…?

James was talking again. “But if they are—don't you think the Imperials would want to hear about it if they’re gonna try something?”

“Try what, James?” his companion—Victoria, he’d said—demanded. “If they want to make a play for a seat, they can.”

“And so can we! We get one over on them, get their stuff—”

The woman let out a disgusted laugh. “Would you listen to yourself?!” she jeered. “You’re babbling nonsense. I shoot down every harebrained idea you have, and you have no defense, and then you just start spouting something even more stupid.” The sneer in her voice was palpable. “Admit it, James—this is all about your pissing contest with what whatever-his-name was.”

A snarl cut the air, the animalistic sound freezing Bella in place. “Fucking Edward—what the hell is he trying to pull? That girl was mine—I was gonna change her, and he fucked it up for me because he wanted her for himself, and now he’s got her and made her some kind of shit-sucker just like he is!”

“And I think that proves my point exactly.” Victoria’s voice was cold. “If you’re going to continue this, then I want out,” she said. “Either clean up your mess over there and let’s go, or I’m leaving. You can stay here and have your little cockfight with him on your own.”

Mess. His mess over there—her.

Clean her up.

The whimper escaped her this time. Clean her up. Deal with her.

This was real—there was no talking herself out of it, no rationalizing it away—she was in the hands of two murderers, and they were casually discussing killing her. She fought for control of her bladder, tried to keep herself from going into hysterics, squeezing her eyes shut until the prickling white stars in her vision faded. She inched backwards again, and then froze as she was poked in the back, something blocking her way.

There had been a charged silence after Victoria’s words; James finally spoke again. “Don’t you even think about it,” he said, his voice low.

“Don’t you threaten me!” Victoria hissed. “You may need me to keep you Masked for your little schemes, but I most certainly don’t need you. In three years you haven’t delivered on any of your vaunted promises, so I have no reason to be involved in this farrago, or any other.”

“Will you just shut up and wait for a minute?! ” James snapped. “Just—just let me find out what he was doing with her!”

Victoria sniffed. “Well, you’re wasting time—she’s been awake the last few minutes but you’ve been too busy ranting about Edward to notice.”

Silence.

An icicle stabbed down Bella’s spine, and then they were both looking at her, and her eyes were open, she was staring back, horrified, but there was no hiding it.

And then James was in front of her, his bedecked jacket and jeans jingling cheerfully as he crouched down low, and one hand shot out and seized her, and a helpless little sound escaped her as she was dragged into a sitting position. His face was inches from hers—his eyes were bright, molten gold, his face flushed and lovely, and he was smiling.

“Wakey-wakey, darlin’,” he purred.

Bella was frozen, terror locking her limbs.

“We’re gonna have ourselves a nice little chat, aren’t we?” His voice was silky and full of mockery, and she nearly sobbed as he suddenly leaned in close, nosing into the neck of her open hoodie and inhaling deeply. “I thought I recognized you,” he murmured into her collarbone, causing horrible gooseflesh to erupt on her arms. He closed his eyes and made a soft mmm sound as he breathed her in. “You were at the house, weren’t you.”

He pulled back, and his arms suddenly tightened on her arms, painfully so. “Weren’t you?” he said again, his voice harder, his thumbs digging into her, and she nodded helplessly.

James chuckled, thick and black. “Thought so. Now, just what would you be doing there?” he said, almost musingly. His pretty, pretty mouth quirked into a smile. “Edward’s still sniffing after little girls, is that it?”

She still said nothing, and then his thumbs bit into her arms again. “Little girl, I asked you a question,” he said, a growl tinging his voice. “What were you doing there?”

“Nothing!” It came out as a squeak, and she cringed away as his thumbs pressed deeper, the pain of it sharp and biting. “I was—I was just visiting!”

“And just what does that mean?” he growled.

“Nothing! I—I know them from school!”

James stared at her, and then let out a loud guffaw. “School! Edward’s going to school?!” He laughed up toward the pitted old ceiling. “Oh, that’s rich—school,” he chortled.

He’d let her go as he laughed, and she instinctively tried to scramble away, only to find her way blocked by a pile of old debris, of splintered wood and rusting farm implements.

James looking down at her, seemingly amused by her abortive attempts to get away, and loomed in closer again. “I guess that’s as good a way as any to go trawling for meat,” he said, pressing his nose against her neck again, and this time she did whine in awful, crawling terror as she felt his cool tongue drag wetly over her skin.

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the point of one of his fangs. “That’s what he doing with you, then?” he asked. “Edward always liked his barnyard animals—are you just his fat little heifer?” And she flinched back, crying out helplessly as he grabbed her breasts and squeezed. “You let him suck on these big ol’ udders, is that it?”

Her eyes were tightly shut, desperately begging, praying for anyone to save her, so she only heard the exasperated huff from above them. “James, are you a child?” Victoria barked. “Stop playing with your food and find out what you want and then let’s leave!”

James’s fingers dug in tighter, just for a moment, and then he let go. Bella huddled back against the pile of junk, curling into a ball, her arms tight around her chest, tears squirting out of her eyes as James looked up at where Victoria had come to stand over them. The expression on her rosy-cheeked face was a mix of disgust and boredom, and Bella cowered back further. The splintered wood behind her dug into her side, hard points and angles stabbing into her and—her pepper spray! That was what was pressing into her side, it was in her pocket, the can hard and cold against her, she still had it, she could—

…But would it do anything?!

James had turned away, snapping at Victoria, “I’m just softening her up!” and she had to try, had to do something, because he was going to touch her again, he was going to clean her up, and she plunged her shaking hand into her pocket, gripping the can, flipping up the safety, readying herself to run, and when James turned back and leaned in close again, her hand flew up and she hit the trigger.

And for one glorious moment, her heart leaped as he yelled and fell backwards, covering his eyes with his hands, because he was working, he’d fallen down, and even Victoria had started in surprise, and she scrambled to her feet—

And then James was laughing, and it was echoing through the barn—because yes, she could see that now, see the rotting straw and the rusty pitchfork and old pulley hanging outside the loft and James in front of her, his hands like manacles around her wrists, squeezing, tight, tight tighter, and it hurt, the bones in her wrists grinding together and she couldn’t feel her hands, and the pepper spray canister dropped from her nerveless fingers to roll harmlessly away.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, then? The little kitten wants to show her claws,” James chuckled, his face wet from the pepper spray but his eyes still bright and golden and gleaming. “Well, then—I guess it’s my turn now.”

And then her left pinkie was between his thick fingers, and he was grinning, staring in her eyes, and his hand clamped down, and there was a sudden dry, brittle sound, like the snapping of a twig, and on its heels came pain, bright flashing pain, and she dimly realized that the shriek she heard came from her as her finger broke.

James laughed again, leaning down and pressing his face against hers, licking at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “Oh, you do make pretty noises—I can see why Edward follows you around,” he said, his eyes glittering. His smile disappeared, one hand clenching on her shoulder and dragging her up so that they were nose-to-nose, his sweet, metallic breath ghosting across her face. “Now—I’m going to ask you again, little cow, and you’re gonna answer me, and if I don’t like what you have to say, well, then we’ll just work our way through all your fingers until you tell me what I want to hear. What were you doing with Edward?”

“I was—” the words came out as a sob. “I was asking about—about the people who died!”

“What people?”

“In—in the park!”

He seized her hand again, and this time she screamed as she heard that same sickening snap, and this time it was her ring finger, and he snarled, “That’s not what I want to hear!”

“Vampires! I was asking about vampires!”

Silence.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She was crying in earnest now, her breath coming in hitching gasps. “I—I wanted to know if—if the people who died were killed by vampires!”

A cold hand grabbed her chin, and his grip was tight, keeping her from jerking away, his fingers digging sharply into her jaw. “Look at me, you fat cow,” he growled, and she opened her eyes, and his were boring into hers, bright and terrible. “Just why would you be asking about that?”

“I—I—he—they—”

His fingers bit cruelly into her face. “They what?!”

“They’re vampires!” she sobbed. “The Cullens are vampires!”

He released her, dropping her onto the floor like a sack of meal, and she pulled as far away from him as she could, huddled against the junk pile at her back, her breath hitching as she sobbed, cradling her left hand against her stomach.

“Did you hear that?” James asked Victoria, his voice soft. “She knows.”

“I could hardly suspect otherwise now,” Victoria said, sounding exasperated.

“No, you stupid bitch,” James spat. “She said she knew already—she already knew what they were!”

Then he was back, yanking her upright, and Bella whimpered in terror as he pulled her back close to his face. “How did you know that?” he snarled, shaking her. “You tell me right now, you little bitch, or I’ll show you your own lungs, do you hear me!?”

“I figured it out! ” she bawled. “I—they—there were pictures—I saw them—Edward tried to eat me!”

James let her go again. She was weeping messily, noisily, and couldn’t stop—she was going to die, eaten by vampires.

“Did you hear that?” James barked to Victoria, leaping to his feet. “She knew—she found out.”

This time Victoria had no answer. “That is clear violation of Imperial law—you know it and I know it. She knew—she found out—and they didn’t do anything. No,” he corrected. “They didn’t just not do anything—they brought her into their house.”

James looked down at her, his face alight. “It’s the same thing all over again,” he said, his voice ripe with satisfaction. “Edward never changes.” He turned back to Victoria. “What did I tell you?” He was grinning, his fangs long over his lips. “I don’t know what they’re trying to do—but I don’t care. And the Imperium won’t either.” He laughed, rich and happy. “They’re all set up on their own, no Imperial backing, and they’ve let humans know what they are.”

“That—why would they do that?” Victoria’s voice was faltering for the first time.

James made a disgusted noise. “Because Edward thinks humans are their little pets. Look at him, finding himself a sniveling little girl with big tits so he can bring her home to be his little toy—he gets off on it,” he sneered down at Bella, toeing at her with his bare foot. “And that’s the point—they’re clearly going against the Imperium, living in town and going to school and exposing themselves. Now, tell me they wouldn’t want someone to spill. Tell me they wouldn’t want to hear all about what those Cullen bastards are plotting.” He grinned, whirling back to Victoria. “Tell me they wouldn’t reward anyone who turned them in—even if they had a black mark on their record.”

James dropped back down to his knees with a thump, and he seized Bella’s hand—her fingers—and twisted, and she cried out again, begging, “Please!”

“Oh, you want me to stop, do you?” James growled. “Only if you talk, you little twat—you tell me right now what the hell Edward is doing!”

“I don’t know!” she moaned. “I—he goes to school—they live here, they just—they just live here—I don’t know!”

James stared hard at her for a moment more before blowing out a rough breath and dropping her again as he stood. “Useless,” he spat. “Just Edward playing doctor with his own dinner.” He’d turned back toward Victoria, but he was speaking to the ground as much as anything. “They’re here—all set up—lots of money, clearly—and they’ve let themselves get found out, and then just brought her right in. What are they—”

He stopped, his eyebrows drawing together, and then was back crouched down over Bella in a flash, his hand tight on her neck, and she gagged as he dragged her upright by the throat, reeling her in close again, a string of beads and a long chain swinging from his jacket slapping against her forehead. “You said he tried to eat you—what the hell was that about?” he demanded. “He tries to eat you like one of his pigs, but then he brings you home to play patty-cake? And you’re really that stupid to just go along with it? Are you working for him—did he promise you something? Or do you just let him get away with it because you like how he fucks you?”

He was shaking her now, and only garbled words managed to get through her constricted windpipe. “No—an accident—didn’t mean to—animals, not people—”

James’s hand loosened a fraction, and she sucked in a desperate, whistling breath. “Stop babbling, piggy,” he said coldly, “and talk, or else we go start back on your fingers.”

“He didn’t mean to,” she gasped, babbling desperately, anything to keep him from hurting her, to be able to keep breathing. “I was—I was bleeding—he didn’t mean to, he—they don’t eat people, they—an accident—they eat animals, not people, he—”

James’s hand tightened again, her windpipe crushed beneath his fingers and her words were cut off in a breathless gasp, and then he let her go, tossing her down on the ground again to land painfully on her side, and then he just threw back his head and laughed, his cackling filling the loft of the barn, bouncing off the rotting boards and echoing all around. “Aw, my sweet little heifer—is that really what Edward told you?” he asked, looking down at her with an expression awfully like that of a child’s at Christmas. His mouth was stretched wide in a grin, his eyes alight with glee.

“A vampire told you he doesn’t eat people—and you actually believed it?”

Chapter Text

Bella cowered on the ground as James stood over her, beaming. But she was looking up at him now—couldn’t help it, not after what he said. Of course she believed it, why wouldn’t she, James was a monster, Edward wasn’t—

James swooped down abruptly; Bella squawked as she suddenly found herself dragged up off the floor by one arm and her neck. She clutched at James’s arm, choking against his suffocating grip, and then she gasped desperately for air as he suddenly let go of her throat again, instead wrapping his arm tight around her in a parody of an embrace, every inch of his body pressed tightly against hers, holding her up so that her dangling toes just brushed the barn loft floor, all the beads and keychains and trinkets on his clothes poking into her.

He nuzzled into her collar again, pressing his face against her neck. “Let me tell you a little something about your precious Saint Edward, little piggy,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke like horrible, cold little kisses, his clamping arm keeping her from getting away as he pressed his hips into hers. “Not only is he a self-righteous, sanctimonious prick,” he said, “but he’s also a goddam liar.”

His hand threaded into her hair, almost gently, and then she yelped as his fingers suddenly closed and he yanked, pulling her head sharply to one side so he could start mouthing wetly on her neck, finding the place where her pulse was hammering in fright and latching on with his lips, sucking at the thin skin, and she thought her heart would stop at the sudden press of his teeth.

“We’re vampires, you stupid slut—we drink blood,” he growled. “We don’t eat fucking animals—it’s like fucking poison. We can’t survive on that shit.”

He drew back, licking his lips and staring into her widening eyes. “And so just how do you think Edward really survives, huh?”

She just dangled there in his arms, shaking, too terrified to immediately comprehend what he was saying. “Yeah, he gets his jollies porking the pork,” James smirked at his own remark, and then continued, “but when he needs a real fix, he goes out hunting just like the rest of us—and I know he does, because I used to hunt with him.”

She stared, shocked, her mouth trembling, unable to speak, or even think.

His grin slashed across his face, his long white fangs poking tiny dents in his lip. “Never told you that when he was feeling you up in the back of his car, did he?” he said amusedly, tugging his hand free from her hair none-to-gently and then letting it slither down to grope at her breast again. She squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated tears leaking from the corners as she looked away, her skin crawling, just let him stop, please make him stop, but could only let out helpless wail when he seized her nipple through her clothes and gave it a vicious twist.

“Manners, slut,” he said, his voice pleasant despite the sound of Victoria’s disgusted sniff from nearby. “I told you to look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Her breath coming in whistling gasps, she forced her head to turn, blinking through her tears, meeting his glittering golden eyes.

“That’s better,” he told her, releasing the pressure of his pinching fingers, now just palming her breast almost gently in something close to a caress. He chuckled to himself, looking down at her flesh spilling from between his grasping fingers. “I bet Edward likes how obedient you are, doesn’t he?” he asked, looking back up at her, his eyes cheerfully bright. “Sit, little human,” he mocked. “Fetch. Shake. Roll over. Fuck.”

He sniggered, and then leaned in close, his eyes boring into hers. “So, tell me this, pig-slut—did you make him sweet talk you even a little bit to get you on your back, make him promise to make you a vampire too, or were you just all-too-happy to spread your legs for him when he spun you that bullshit story about being oh-so-noble and only eating animals?”

“James.” Victoria sounded irritated from where she’d retreated to the side. “Exactly what does this have to do with those people violating Imperial law?”

“Everything, bitch—because this is how he’s done it before!” James snapped, dropping his hand but still keeping his other arm tight around Bella. “That’s how he got crosswise of the Imperium last time, fondling little girls. So just shut up and keep us hidden and let me finish!”

Victoria gave a put-upon huff and then just crossed her arms, leaning boredly back against the barn wall.

“Edward always pulls this crap,” James snarled at her. “Likes playing the hero, swooping in to rescue damsels in distress, and then it gets him caught.”

Bella’s knotted stomach still managed to drop at his words, a shocked gasp escaping her. Hero—how did he know? How could he know that Edward…?

James heard her, and he whirled back around, setting all his dangling gewgaws swinging, and when he saw her wide, disbelieving eyes, his eyebrows flew up. “Oh, shit, that’s exactly what he did for you too, wasn’t it?” he asked her, his voice filled with rising glee. “He came flying in to rescue from bad men so he could get in your pants, didn’t he?” He cackled his mirth to the ceiling. “Oh, Edward, you sad fuck, don’t ever change,” he chortled, shaking his head. Then, quick as a striking snake, his hand was around Bella’s neck again—not squeezing, but still gripping tight. “I just asked you a question, fuckhole,” he said coldly. “Do we have to have another lesson with your fingers?”

She shook her head wildly, but his fingers only tightened, slowly cutting off her air again. “Well, then? Is that what Edward did? Save you from the bad men?”

She nodded desperately; she would tell him anything he wanted to hear, just so long as he didn’t touch her again, just so long as he didn’t hurt her again, just so long as she could breathe.

James grinned nastily. “And just what do you think happened to those bad men afterwards?” he crooned.

He chuckled delightedly at her, at the horrified realization that must have shown on her face.

Help them get their man—he’d said he’d help them get their man.

“Yep—that’s his MO,” James said, his voice genial as he let go of her throat to let his now-free hand wander, petting her everywhere through her clothes, his filthy fingers dragging over her her shoulders and breasts and sides and hips. “Likes to set himself up as better than everyone else because when he hunts, he only eats the bad men, and that makes it okay.”

He let out a disgusted snort. “So goes around playing Superman, using bad guys as his excuse to hunt, and at the same time he can get his rocks off playing the hero to little girls like you. Only problem, see, is that he really, really likes little girls,” James grinned. “And sometimes, well, he has accidents. Just like he did with Mary—and now just like he did with you.” His eyes glittered with malice. “And you, sweetheart, well, you are just one more in a long line of his little accidents.”

In a flash his face was back against her neck, and this time she felt his teeth, and she whimpered at the prick of the tips of his fangs—but then they were just pressing against her, the fronts, not the points, so he could bite down with his lower jaw without breaking the skin, worrying at her flesh before letting go and licking his way up to tug at her earlobe with his lips, his other hand cradling her head and keeping her where he wanted her, his hips rocking lazily against hers.

“I like little girls myself, I can’t lie,” he panted roughly in her ear, his arms like iron bands, crushing her close and cutting off her whimpers, “and even if you’re just Edward’s fat, stupid little whore, you do smell mighty sweet.” His cold tongue dipped into her ear, the soft shush of his next words against her making her skin prickle and shiver. “So here’s the question, then: if you’re letting him diddle you, and he’s already had one ‘accident’—just how much longer do you think he’ll be able to go without finally having a taste, hmm?”

She couldn’t help the sobbing sounds escaping her—no, no, she didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it—and then gave a breathless squawk that spiraled into an agonized shriek as James abruptly dropped her to the floor, and her hands came up reflexively when she fell and she landed hard on her fingers, her broken fingers, and the pain stabbed up her arm and she held it close, crying helplessly from where she was huddled on the floor.

James crouched down next to her but wasn’t looking at her anymore, now just gesturing to Victoria. “Okay—come here. We gotta plan our next move.”

The old wooden floor creaked once as Victoria’s sandalled feet came into Bella’s view, but otherwise she was silent, no slap of soles and no bits of junk to make noise as she glided across the floor. She crouched down as well, her long red top pooling around her knees. Bella glanced up through her tears; Victoria was perfectly still where she sat and utterly indifferent to her, watching only James as if Bella wasn’t even there. “Right,” he said. “This—” he grabbed a handful of Bella’s hair and shook her roughly, ignoring her pained cries, “—is our ticket.”

Victoria blew a soft breath through her nose. “I fail to see just how taking her out and cleaning up those vampires’ mess will be enough to ingratiate us with the Imperium.”

Taking her out.

Bella felt her vision go dangerously gray at the edges. They were going to kill her.

“No, no,” James said, shaking his head. “Not like that—we gotta keep her for a bit. A hostage—to make Edward cooperate.”

“Oh, splendid, and make us complicit in their crimes of exposing ourselves?”

“No—it’s just to get them to play ball.”

“Why on God’s green earth would some random human make them do anything?!”

“Haven’t you been listening?! For fuck’s sake, Victoria—I just said that Edward is all about rescuing girls from the bad guys! He lives for that shit—he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. Trust me,” he said, a nasty grin on his face. “I know that smug bastard—he won’t be able to resist seeing us with his little milk cow.”

“Resist what, though?” Victoria demanded. “So this human means something to him—what, exactly, are we supposed to use her for, then?”

“To get their shit, that’s what!” James’s voice was manic, his hand tightening in Bella’s hair. “To make them hand over that whole sweet house and the money they have—and now we’ll have a ready-made base of operations! We can start to carve out our own new turf here!”

“And you think that they’ll just hand it over.” Victoria’s voice was skeptical.

James clearly heard her disbelief, and hissed before speaking again. “Yes, you numb twat, I just told you that!” he snarled.

“Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that a coven who has clearly spent so much time establishing themselves with an Imperial-worthy base would just give it all up for some bloodbag,” Victoria sneered. “And even if they did,” she said over James’s cursing, “then what, you arrogant ape? Let’s say they give us everything in exchange for this.” She slapped the back of her hand on Bella’s side. “She knows what we are too. We’ve still exposed ourselves just like they have, and then we’ll have let her go—let them all go. How will that make the Imperials inclined to listen to us?”

James just rolled his eyes. “What, you expect me to just let them ride off into the sunset?” he scoffed. “Fuck no—once they’re gone, we immediately head to the nearest Imperial outpost and spill—tell them everything. All about their sick animal-sucking, and going to school, and making little human pets. We’ll be good informants, now with a base—we just tell them we want to play along, that we’ll help any way we can, and bam, we’re in.”

“You are an imbecile,” Victoria said coldly. “You think that’s really how the Imperium works—that the governor in Seattle will just thank us nicely and let us lay claim to part of his territory?”

James made a disgusted noise. “Stop being such a complete pussy—you are so hung up on Imperials and their crap, like they’re some big bad boogeyman—I’ve met an Imperial governor before and got away scot-free, and Edward burned down a whole building in New Orleans and stole Mary from him too, and that slick faggot didn’t do shit to him either.”

Burned down a building…he knew that too…he knew about Edward…he knew things that were true…

“And I’ve met two of the Imperial Heads,” Victoria hissed. “And I know from that experience the Imperium doesn’t just carve up and grant territory as a reward, especially not for one small good deed. I found myself set against them, and now I have a price on my head. You got lucky once when you crossed them, and you’ve let it puff up your already empty skull so much that you honestly think you’re invincible. Well, let me tell you something, you poxy buffoon—I know the Imperials better than you do, and I can tell you right now that this harebrained scheme makes no sense and won’t work!”

James snarled incoherently, and then threw himself down to sit on the floor, the graceful way he moved somehow managing to make a childish tantrum look elegant. “All right, then, Queen Bitch,” he scowled, “since you’re so smart and high-and-mighty, just what would you do?”

“I would eat her and then leave,” she snapped, and Bella moaned in fresh terror, which was ignored; Victoria just spoke over her, shaking her head in disgust and sending her magnificent mane of inky curls shivering around her shoulders. “But since you won’t let this idiotic pipe dream go—fine. If we really are going to go to the Imperials with this, then we take her with us.” Victoria smacked Bella again, like she was a side of beef. “Let them interrogate and dispose of her, and then discipline this coven as they see fit. We get in their good books—I have my record expunged, and you get a good mark—and if—if this coven is weakened enough by their punishment, then we could move in and take over their resources, and then we plan our next move from there.”

“Not good enough!” James shouted. “There’s no guarantee Edward and his gang of perverts will be shut out!”

“There isn’t with your stupid idea either!”

“But at least my way I’ll make him suffer!” he roared.

Victoria spat on the floor. “And there it is—the crux of this whole matter. You don’t care about Imperial appointments—you just want to stick it this Edward person.” She gave him a look of pure contempt. “You’ll never rise above the same petty, useless nobody you’ve always been with that attitude,” she said. “And I think the fact that you’ve been scheming for over seventy years and gotten nowhere makes is clear that that’s all you’ll ever be.”

James snarled impotently, biting out a few vicious curses, but then lapsed into sullen silence. Victoria ignored his sulking, inspecting her nails with supreme indifference.

“You don’t know,” James finally said after a moment. “You don’t know how much I hate that pious, stinking, pig-fucking shitstain.” A low growl rumbled out of him. “You don’t know how much I want it,” he said, and Bella flinched as his cold hand touched her face, brushing her hair back with an obscene tenderness. “Two girls that were mine, and he took them from me. He killed one and he stole the other, and now that he has one of his own—” and Bella choked as his hand was suddenly tight on her throat, squeezing, pinning her down, and she clawed frantically at his iron grip but couldn’t, not with her broken fingers, and he leaned in close pressing his forehead against hers and rasped, “—you don’t know how much I want him to watch while I drain the life out of her.”

Her hand was loosening, spots dancing in her vision, and then he suddenly let go, and she sucked in a desperate lungful of air, gasping, too out of breath to even cry.

“You think there aren’t other vampires that I want dead?” Victoria said, her voice cool. “The ones who changed me, who used me for their own ends and got me into this mess with the Imperium in the first place?” She snorted. “But if you want actually to get anywhere, you have to let that go. Stop being motivated by your impulses and petty grudges and start thinking for a change.”

James gave out another growl, but was quiet, no other sound aside from the creaking of the barn and Bella’s hitching breath.

Finally, James huffed. “Fine. Fine. Let’s say we do it your candy-ass way.” He reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a lighter and started absently flicking it open, lighting it and putting out. “How do we go about making sure it works to our best advantage?”

Bella felt as if her entire body had suddenly been hollowed out. James’s blunt fingers were wrapped around the ostentatious trapezoidal lighter, rapidly flipping the top open and closed. It was a heavy, metal thing, gold plated, and between his fingers Bella could just see that the front was embossed with the words “FORT KNOX.”

“Waylon,” she gasped.

It was Waylon’s lighter. He had Waylon’s lighter. Waylon had been attacked on the river.

Oh, God—James had killed and eaten Waylon!

James had heard her, jerked around before she managed to tear her horrified gaze away from the lighter in his hand, and he looked at it for a moment, and then back at her, and then a delighted grin spread across his face. “Oh, you are just the gift that keeps on giving!” he crowed, and then seized her, dragging her up with his arm around her, holding her so close that she was practically in his lap, and then flipped the lighter open right in her face, his grip keeping her from flinching back as he brought it in close, closer, so that she could feel the heat of the tiny flame against her cheek, right near her eye. “You knew the fat fuck I got this from?” he asked, mouthing wetly across the side of her face. “Family? Or just some other pathetic chode you would put out for just like you do for Edward?”

“James!” Victoria snarled. “We have plans to make, you useless maggot—will you stop playing with her and focus!”

James bared his teeth at her, lowering the lighter from Bella’s face, but then suddenly froze. “What the hell is that?” he demanded, his head swiveling around, his body tense as he listened.

There was a moment of silence as both vampires listened for something only they could hear—until suddenly Bella could hear it too: the distant thrum of an engine, getting closer by the second.

She yelped as she was abruptly thrown back down on the floor as James leapt to his feet, Waylon’s lighter clattering on the ground next to her. “What the fuck is that!” he roared at Victoria, who was on her feet too, looking shocked. “You’re supposed to be hiding us, you stupid bitch!”

“I am!” she shouted back.

The car was getting closer. Bella’s heart started pattering double time again.

“Not good enough, goddammit—what the hell were you doing all this time, just fingering your own asshole?!”

“I was Masking us, you hijo de puta!” Victoria screeched. “You said it would be easy—but I’ve told you if they’re stronger than I am—”

The engine roared up to the barn, headlights arcing through the pitted walls and open loft, filling it with light, and from outside Bella heard a dim shout of “Bella!”

Her heart leapt up into her throat, threatening to choke her, but she managed to desperately shriek, “Edward!”

And then she screamed as James’s foot came down hard on her hand—on her fingers, and she howled in agony even as she heard Edward getting closer, screaming, “BELLA! ”

Hands like steel seized her shoulders and she was hauled into the air, her feet kicking helplessly into nothing, nose-to-nose with James, his face a rictus of fury. “Not this time, you fucking bitch,” he snarled. “Edward can’t save you this time—you’re mine now!”

And he lunged for her neck.

Chapter Text

“JAMES!”

Bella didn’t recognize the roaring voice at first—how could she when she was scrabbling desperately under James’s inexorable grip, her feet kicking uselessly in the air while his mouth was wet on her neck, his fangs just barely pricking the spot where her throbbing pulse beat in terror. She couldn’t see anything—her face was against his shoulder, and she could see a flash of red beside her that she knew was Victoria, but otherwise all she could see was the pitted shell of the old barn.

And then James’s teeth were suddenly gone. “Don’t move, fuckstick!” he bellowed. “You come one step closer and I’ll tear her fucking throat out!” And they were back, the teeth, pressing harder as her breath stuttered in terror beneath their cold points.

“LET HER GO!”

“Not a chance, you fucking shit-sucker!” James pulled away from her neck again to snarl at Edward—it was Edward, his voice ripping through the air like the roar of a tiger, she’d never heard him sound like that—

“Leave her out of it, James—it’s me you want! Let her go!”

James chuckled, but his body was still tense under Bella’s grasping hands as she fruitlessly tried to push him away. “Wrong, Edward,” he growled, his voice guttural as he flecked the side of her neck with spit. “I do want her. I want her so bad—and I have her now.”

Bella yelped as she was suddenly spun around in his arms and could finally see—it was Edward, and Emmett and Alice too, all standing on the edge of the loft, crouched to spring. Emmett and Alice’s faces were harder than she had ever seen them, and Edward—Edward’s eyes were wild and he was shaking where he stood, looking at James with such utter hate twisting his face that she could barely recognize him.

“You don’t like that, do you?” James asked, and she could hear the smile starting in his voice. “Don’t like the shoe on the other foot—seeing someone else with the little girl you wanted?”

“When I'm done with you there'll be nothing left but a greasy stain, you murdering motherfucker.” It took Bella a moment to realize that the leonine, basso growl had come from Emmett.

James snarled back at him, and Bella squeaked as his arms tightened around her, one hand digging hard into her stomach. “Back off, Moose,” he growled. “You move and you’ll get to see Edward’s little fucktoy’s guts spill all over the floor.”

No one moved, and no one spoke, until Bella suddenly felt James relax minutely against her back. “That’s what I thought—what did I tell you, Victoria?” he said to his side, and Bella reflexively followed his voice to see her standing to the side, tensed as if to flee. “He’ll always save the girl.” His hand was suddenly in her hair again, yanking her head to the side so he could swipe a long, wet lick up the side of her neck. “I wonder if he’d still be so interested if I had a bite too?”

“Stop it, James!”

“Or what?” James taunted back. “Can’t risk killing another one, can you? Or is that how you want it—killing her before I get any like last time? Does she know about that?” he added, giving her a shake. “She know how you killed that girl before I could?”

“Shut up!”

James laughed cruelly in Bella’s ear. “What, don’t want her to know what you really are? Can’t stand the thought of your little damsel in distress knowing that she got rescued by the dragon?” His voice took on a mocking warble. “Oh, no, I have to play big strong hero for my little fuckhole—I can’t let her know about all the people I eat or else she won’t put out for me!”

Edward’s face was twisting, almost imploding in on itself, but he didn’t speak—didn’t deny it.

“Oh, I get it.” James was still going, his voice getting louder, nastier. “I bet that’s how you get around it, isn’t it—you just nibble a little while you fuck her, maybe? You bleed her a bit while you’re getting off?” His hand flew up, viciously clamping down on her breast, making her cry out. “She is awful tasty—bet you like sucking on these big titties, don’t you?”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!”

James just laughed, and he let go of her to only shove his hand lewdly between her thighs, groping at her crotch as Edward let out an inarticulate howl of rage.

“James—stop this—we have to get out of here!” The hissed words were from Victoria, but James threw her one contemptuous glance before looking back at Edward, whose face was so twisted with fury that he looked deranged.

“Not now,” he said flatly. “Your way won’t work—we’re going with mine. You want your little fuckslut?” he called to Edward. “Then you give me what I want.”

Edward started forward, and then James’s teeth were back, pressing hard against her neck, and Edward froze. “I said don’t move, you cocksucker,” he snarled against her neck. “Or I’ll break her neck just like you did that girl in St. Louis.”

And Edward seemed to shrink where he stood, sagging like a puppet with its strings cut.

“I—please, James. What—whatever you want,” he said, his voice utterly defeated. “Anything, just…please. Just let her go.” Edward’s voice cracked as he spoke—as he begged—and Bella felt James still and then straighten as he suddenly started to laugh.

“There it is!” he crowed. “Saint Edward, the patron saint of helpless little girls caught by the boogeyman!”

Bella was abruptly whirled around, her front pressed again James again, his mouth hard against her neck. “But it’s only fair, isn’t it?” he demanded, his voice rough. “You took two of mine—shouldn’t I get just one of yours?”

And he opened his mouth, and she felt the prick of his teeth, she heard Edward roar in panicked fury over her own shriek, she scrabbled helplessly at his clutching arms, his shoulders, clawing desperately at anything she could reach, he was going to bite her, he was going to eat her, she had to get away—

And there was a snap, and a sudden clatter, and she yelped as James dropped her abruptly and she landed hard on the floor, looking up wildly to see everyone frozen, perfectly still, just staring slack-jawed at the floor, their eyes rolling madly in their faces, darting after all the beads scattered everywhere—the beads!

White pearls—a long string that had been looped across the front of James’s jacket—she must have snagged it! She scrambled away, no time to stand up, it could only be a few seconds more before he woke back up, and she crawled frantically away as best she could on her broken fingers, only to fall over with a shriek as they landed on something hard and cold and angular, sending her crashing to the side as she gripped her hand, oh, please no, she had to get away—

—the lighter, it was Waylon’s lighter she’d landed on, and she tried to get up again, throwing a panicked glance to the side to see the vampires slowly starting to shake themselves, to start moving again, and she looked away, rolling back up, her eyes flying past the big pile of junk and the forlorn can of pepper spray nearly invisible for the lengthening shadows except for the bright yellow warning label—

—label warning for—

—flammable—

Bella seized Waylon’s lighter and spun the wheel, and the bright blue point of flame sprang alight, and she shifted it to her left hand in her two good fingers even as she heard a shocked gasp behind her and she threw herself across the floor, scrabbling desperately for the pepper spray, and she felt it beneath her fingers even as she heard James roar, “Oh, no you don’t, you little bitch!”

And his hands clamped down on her shoulders, tight, tight, tight, her bones creaking beneath his crushing grip and then he spun her around, his eyes burning with fury, and Edward screamed his name as James lunged for her throat and Bella’s hands flew up, the lighter clutched in left hand in front and her finger on the trigger of her pepper spray behind and dear God please let this work—

And a gout of liquid flame erupted from the canister, spraying across James’s face and shoulders and hair, and he screamed, long and loud, and flew backwards, beating madly at the fire that clung to his skin, and Victoria shrieked in surprise, and she heard Edward yell, “Bella!”

“FUCKING BITCH!” James howled, his voice horrible and gurgling beneath the flames, and he tore at his own face, at the fire, and Bella scrambled to her feet to run—

—and James whirled around, and she had one glimpse of his blackened, bubbling flesh before suddenly she was flying, the breath punched out of her where his half-curled fist connected with her solar plexus and she sailed through the air and—

PAIN!

It roared through her, stabbing, burning through her and leaving nothing behind but agony and she wailed helplessly as she rolled down off the pile of junk, her arm filled with broken glass and her leg shot full of lightning and she screamed again when she landed and she still felt her gorge rise as she looked down and saw the long, rusted, filthy broken pitchfork buried deep in her thigh, and she couldn’t make her left arm move, but her right would but just touching the fork sent shockwaves through her body, but she needed it out, God, had to have it out—

She forced herself past the pain, past the furious scuffling, the wild shouting, the awful scream that suddenly cut off with a wet crack and an obscene tearing sound, forced her hand to grip the rusting tine, and she yanked, and she screamed, screamed, could only keep screaming as it slid wetly out of her thigh and clattered on the ground, followed by a gush of blood, thick and dark and wet, and she sobbed helplessly, it was out, thank God, it was out, but she was bleeding, and it hurt, it hurt, and she flopped uselessly backwards, her vision going dark at the edges.

THUMP!

Bella forced her eyes open as the shock to the floor rattled through her, and she looked up, and there was a vampire—on its hands and knees, crouched like an animal, its face pressed to the floor, and through her wavering vision she saw its long tongue snake out and lap at the floor—slurp at it—licking up her blood.

Sobbing helplessly, she tried to move away, but her arm wouldn’t work, her leg wouldn’t work, and she tried to press at the wound but she had no strength, no pressure, it just kept bleeding, and the vampire just kept licking it up, and she could hear its tongue rasping obscenely at the wooden floor, even over the thunder of feet and the sudden horrified screech of, “Jasper!”

And then the vampire looked up at her and even as her vision wavered again she could see that it had Edward’s face—its mouth painted with her blood, its fangs long and white and dripping, and its eyes gleaming and golden in the soft blue of the deepening twilight.

The monster with Edward’s face reared up on its knees and bore down on her.

The darkness in her eyes rose up and consumed her.

Chapter Text

It was cold. She could feel that, but only from very far away. Cold, and dark.

There was a quiet hissing in the background. She shifted slightly on the soft blankets beneath her.

Her eyelids felt so, so heavy, but if she could just get them open then maybe it wouldn’t be so dark.

“Bella?”

The voice was coming from very far away, but she managed to roll her head toward it.

“She’s waking up, but she’s still not out of it yet. She probably won’t be awake for long.”

Of course she was awake. She was right here listening to them.

A hand rested gently on her forehead. “Bella? Can you hear me?”

She tried to say yes, but all that came out was a quiet, “Hmm.” She forced her eyes open, but they were so heavy, and the dazzle of the light above her was so bright that they fell closed again immediately.

She just…she just needed a minute. Just a minute more, and then she would open her eyes again…

Bella was still cold when she woke up, and it took her a moment to remember to open her eyes, and while it was bright, it wasn’t painful, so she blinked a bit until she could focus.

“Bella? Baby?”

She blinked again. Charlie was standing over her, his face tense.

Another face swam into view. “Hello, there, Bella—are you with us?” Carlisle asked gently.

She tried to answer, but all that came out of her mouth was a dry croak, and she suddenly realized that she was painfully thirsty. As if summoned, Carlisle was instantly holding a water glass with a bendy straw up to her lips; she pulled on it gratefully, not even noticing that she’d just laid there and hadn’t tried to pick up the glass until she was done and he was already setting it aside.

She looked around, confused. She was in a plain room with blank walls, except for a television bolted to the ceiling above her. She was lying in a hard bed that propped her up in a sitting position. The blankets were thin; no wonder she was cold. Her gaze wandered to the side to see the needle in her arm, the tube connected to a hanging plastic bag, and beyond that the beeping machine monitoring her vitals through the wires clipped to her finger and leading out from under her gown.

Oh. A hospital room. She’d spent enough time inside of those to recognize them pretty easily, even though her thoughts still felt thick and muddy.

Charlie was squeezing her hand, the one with the monitor on it. “How do you feel, baby?” he asked anxiously.

Bella groggily assessed the situation. “Okay,” she rasped after thinking about it a bit. She was cold and sluggish, but she didn’t seem to be hurting anywhere at the moment, if that’s what he meant. “Why—what happened?”

“You were in another car accident, Bells,” Charlie said, reaching up smooth her hair back.

She stared at him blankly.

Car accident? When? How? She tried to stumble through the thick, soupy fog filling her brain. She went out to the Cullens’ house, she remembered that—had she had a wreck coming home? No, no, she remembered Edward following and seeing her safely home since James—

James!

She lurched upright in the bed, an involuntary noise escaping her as the memory slammed into her, but then there were gentle hands from all sides pressing her back on the bed—

“Whoa, Bells, it’s okay, just calm down—

“Bella, it’s all right, you’re safe now, everything is fine—”

She looked wildly around, half-expecting to see James leering at her from the corner of the room, her breath coming in helpless gasps, the beeping of the heart monitor coming loud and fast as her pulse roared in terror—

—the barn—

—James’s grasping fingers, the press of his fangs—

—the sound of her fingers breaking, the endless agony of watching the pitchfork slide wetly out of her leg—

—Edward’s burning eyes, his long, bloodied teeth—

She sobbed, tried to cover her face, but she couldn’t, because Charlie was holding one hand, and the other, she realized, was in a thick cast from her hand to her elbow and was too heavy for her lift.

A nurse had appeared—Esme, she saw, and she murmured to Carlisle, asking if she needed to be sedated, and Charlie was pressing his fist to his mouth—

“No, I don’t think so.” Carlisle’s voice was steady, even, and he put his hands on Bella’s shoulders and leaned down. “Bella,” he said lowly. “Calm down. Deep breaths.”

She gulped for air, even as she tried to get her throat working to ask something—anything—

“You’re safe—do you understand?” he asked.

She swallowed noisily, her eyes casting about the room—the clean room with the bright light and pale green walls, where she could see everything, no places for someone to hide, and her arm had clearly been treated, and ever-so-slowly she felt her body start to relax, to sink back into the bed. She took a few more deep breaths, and then managed to nod.

“Good girl,” he said. He directed Charlie to the side, and then stood over her and asked her that familiar set of questions from the last time, about who she was and how she felt, looking at her eyes and having her follow a few simple directions. She did them all correctly, if a bit shakily, and he smiled and stepped to the side when he was done. Charlie quickly took up his seat by the bed again, his rough hand warm around hers.

“It’s okay, baby—you’re all right,” he said. She licked her lips and nodded, and then looked up at Carlisle.

“You were in a car accident yesterday evening, Bella,” he said. “An elk jumped in front of the car while you were out driving with Rosalie and Alice; it hit the car, and Rose lost control and you went off the road. You had a bump on your head, but it wasn’t serious, but you also have two broken fingers and fractured both bones in your left forearm, and you had a pretty serious puncture wound in your right thigh from a piece of the car door where it crumpled inward upon impact. Do you understand?” he asked, giving her an intense look.

Bella struggled to make sense of what he was saying. Broken fingers, she knew. And—she swallowed her rising gorge—a puncture wound. The fracture, that must have been at the same time, when she’d landed, but—a drive? An accident?

She looked over to see Esme watching with a pursed mouth, and she gave Bella meaningful look and glanced once at Charlie, and—oh.

Bella finally caught up. “Oh.”

Carlisle gave her a relieved smile. “Fortunately I can tell you that you are doing quite well,” he said. “We had you in and out of surgery very quickly; you did lose quite a bit of blood, but we got some new back in you, you’re all stitched up and set, and think I would be comfortable saying that it looks like you won’t suffer any lasting effects once you’re healed up.”

“You’re gonna be all right, Bells,” Charlie said, stroking her hair again. Bella could see that his eyes looked a little red, and then was suddenly struck with a powerful wave of relief and happiness to see him, and her own eyes welled up with tears.

Charlie’s eyes started to glisten a bit, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, his mustache bristly against her skin, and then sat back, still holding her hand.

She was alive. She was safe—she was with her daddy and she was safe.

…At least for now, she realized with a sudden lump of dread forming in her stomach, and she pushed herself up from the slump she had fallen into.

“What—what about—what happened to—”

A loud cough cut off her words; she looked over to see Esme fussing with her monitors behind Charlie, and when she caught Bella’s eye she gave her a quelling look.

“…to everyone?” she finished lamely.

“Everyone else is fine,” Carlisle said soothingly. “Alice and Rose just had a few minor injuries; I’m afraid you took the brunt of it on the passenger’s side, my dear.”

“Just like last time, huh?” Charlie said to her, and she managed a wan smile.

“Fortunately,” Carlisle continued, “since Edward and Emmett were right behind you in the Jeep, they applied first aid to your injuries and loaded all three of you up and got you into the hospital very quickly, while Edward stayed behind with the wreck and called the police.”

Bella bit her lip but nodded. It wasn’t quite the answer she wanted, but it would have to do for now.

“I promised your mom I’d call her when you woke up,” Charlie said suddenly. “Do you feel up to talking to her?”

She did—she wanted to hear her mom’s voice too.

Charlie smiled as he pulled out his cell phone. “She’s already booked a flight for early tomorrow morning,” he told her, and Bella felt herself smiling. “She’d have left sooner, but it was the only time she could get where she’d arrive in time to get the shuttle to PA. We didn’t want me to have to drive all the way to Seattle to get her and leave you here alone for so long.”

Carlisle and Esme stepped out, the latter urging Bella to use her call button if she needed anything, and then Charlie called Renée.

She was bawling when he put her on the phone, and Bella was so wrung out that she started crying too, and Charlie retreated to the corner looking a bit misty himself. Bella did her best to reassure Renée that she was fine, tried not to be too clever about inventing details about a story she didn’t quite know, and was entirely honest in how much she wanted to see her mom the next day.

She was exhausted by the time the phone call ended, and so Charlie just sat with her in silence for a while, leaning on the bedrail and holding her hand again. It was broken only by the steady drones and beeps of Bella’s various monitors—and eventually by Charlie’s stomach giving a loud gurgle.

Bella jumped a little at the sound, and then surprised herself when a weak giggle escaped her. Charlie looked a bit embarrassed, but still seemed happy to see her smile. “When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

He grunted. “Not since yesterday.”

“What? Dad!” She looked up to see that the clock on the wall said it was already six in the evening.

“I wasn’t exactly thinking about food yesterday, Bella,” he said, and she immediately felt guilty. He blew out a breath and then fixed her with a look that was clearly meant to be stern but didn’t quite manage it, but Bella shrank a little anyway. “Now, young lady, you explain to me just what you thought you were doing going off with people without asking for permission?”

Bella stared at him, her mouth open, closed it, and finally said, “…You did give me permission.”

“I gave you permission to go visit your friends’ house, not go off driving around with them!”

Bella’s brow furrowed. “How—how is that not the same thing? I drive places by myself without asking permission.”

“That—you’re in your own car then!” he said.

“Dad, that makes no sense—” she tried to protest, but Charlie was not having it.

“Don’t you talk back to me,” he warned. “You should have called me before you went!”

“Would you have said I couldn’t if I had?” she demanded.

“That’s not the point!” Charlie blustered.

Bella felt traitorous tears filling her eyes and she looked away. She hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t gone anywhere without permission—she’d been kidnapped, but she couldn’t tell him that, and now he was yelling at her for it.

And the fight went out of Charlie immediately. “Oh, Bells, I’m so sorry,” he said, handing her a tissue when he heard her start sniffling. She had to use her only good hand to wipe her face, so Charlie settled for going back to smoothing her hair. “You’re right—you asked to go visit your friends, and going on a little drive wasn’t anything crazy.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I was—I was just so scared, baby,” he said, and Bella felt her tears starting up again. “You didn’t pick up the phone when called to let you know I was done at work, and I get home and your truck is still there and your phone is on the floor in the kitchen, and I couldn’t find where you were and couldn’t raise Carlisle, and then the call came through dispatch that you were in the hospital…”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she snuffled.

“Shh—it’s not your fault you were in an accident,” he soothed. “Your phone, though—why didn’t you have it with you?”

She blew her nose to cover for her brief lapse as she tried to think how to say it, and then just truthfully told him that, “I took it when I left—I remember getting it. I—it must have fallen out of my pocket.”

Charlie just sighed, and she sighed too, drying her eyes. “I just…I just feel like ever since you’ve moved up here, you’ve been dealing mess after mess,” he said after a moment, his voice unhappy. “You get mugged, you get your hand all cut up, and now not one but two car wrecks—”

“Dad, I’m always having accidents,” she protested. “And my wreck down in Phoenix was worse than both of these.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, but—I want my girl to be happy and safe,” he said.

“I am happy,” she replied. “And I’m as safe as I can be.”

Charlie gave her slightly watery smile, and took her hand again. Bella slumped back against the bed, feeling her exhaustion starting to creep over her.

Then the quiet that had fallen was broken again by Charlie’s stomach, and Bella snorted. “Seriously, Dad—you should go find something to eat.” Then she narrowed her eyes at him as another thought occurred to her. “Wait—when was the last time you slept?”

He looked both defiant and guilty. “There are couches out in the waiting room, and the chair there in the corner is comfortable for a nap.”

“Dad!” she scolded. “You need to eat and rest!”

“Not while you were still under the knife, I didn’t!” he retorted.

“I wasn’t in surgery for a whole day!”

“No, but you hadn’t properly woken up yet, either!”

She blew an exasperated breath out through her nose. “Okay—fine,” she said grudgingly. “But I’m awake now, and you know that I’m okay—now you need to go get some food and a shower and some sleep.”

“Visiting hours are until eight,” he replied tartly.

“And you have to drive to PA and back tomorrow,” she shot back. Then she sighed. “Seriously, Dad. You’re worn out—and I’m worn out,” she added when he looked about to protest. That, at least, seemed to get through to him.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked anxiously.

“I’m okay, Dad,” she said. “I’m just still tired.”

Charlie had already mashed the call button, though, and Bella barely had time to scold him for it before Esme was bustling back into the room. “Is everything all right here?” she asked, giving Bella that gimlet eye of hers.

“She says she’s feeling tired,” Charlie said, as Esme came around the bed to inspect Bella’s cast.

“Well, that’s to be expected,” she said as she briskly turned back Bella’s blankets, and she suddenly got to see the thick white bandages that were swathing her right thigh; she’d been aware of a dull ache on her leg, but it immediately started to hurt a lot worse now that she was looking at it. “Are you in any pain?” Esme continued.

“Um—my leg hurts, but not—it’s not awful,” she said.

“Hmm.” Esme checked the chart on her bed. “You will be up for your night meds soon—that will take care of that, and they’ll send you right back to sleep.”

“See, Dad?” she said to Charlie, who had been watching Esme anxiously. “I’m gonna be passing out soon anyway. You should go home and have dinner and sleep, and you can come back here in the morning before you go pick up Mom.”

“Your daughter is a very smart, brave young lady, Charlie Swan,” said Esme. “You’ve been here for nearly twenty-four hours. Now that you know she’s safe and well and she says herself she’s holding up, so you really should look out for yourself—for her sake,” she added.

Charlie did not instantly agree, like he so often did when Esme spoke to him, but he did look like he was wavering. It took only a little more cajoling, a Witch’s Honor that she was fine, a fake yawn, and a not-at-all faked hiss of pain from when she tried to shift in bed and jostled her leg, to finally get him to relent. “You call me any time if anything happens,” he said to Esme. “And you too, Bells—if you need me, for anything, you call.”

“I will, Dad,” she promised, and squeezed him as tight as she could with her right arm when he came over for a very gentle hug goodbye.

Esme followed him out, and she heard them speaking in the hallway, and then Esme was back, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“What happened?!”

Esme crossed the floor in two quick strides and was cupping her cheeks in her hands. “Isabella Swan, you are a wonderful girl,” she said, and Bella’s face burned beneath her cold hands. “Now, you tell me—are you all right? Really all right?”

“I—Carlisle said I—”

“Not that,” Esme cut her off. “I know you’re healthy. Are you all right? How are you feeling?”

“Oh—I—um, shaky, I—”

Esme’s nostrils flared. “Bella,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “Did that thing hurt you in any way that we don’t know about?”

Oh.

Bella shivered, hunching down a little. She hadn’t wanted to think about that, but now that she was, a sick, shameful feeling welled up in her gut, remembering James’s cruel words and his crueler hands. But Esme was still cradling her cheeks, looking earnestly at her, silently urging her to speak.

“He didn’t—he just—he just touched me,” she forced out.

“That isn’t ‘just’ anything, Bella,” she said firmly. “It was assault, plain and simple.”

A shudder wracked down her spine, and Esme quickly moved to drop the rail of the bed so she could sit down, and carefully gathered her up in her arms. Bella felt tears starting to leak out of her eyes; she didn’t want to cry anymore, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

“You let it out if you need to,” Esme said gently, stroking her hair.

She didn’t, but she fisted her hand in Esme’s scrubs all the same. “He just—I don’t think he even—he just wanted to hurt me.”

“That’s exactly what he wanted.” Her voice was icy. “He was sick sadist and was using any means at his disposal to inflict pain. You didn’t deserve any of it, you did everything you could to try and stop it, and none of it was your fault. James was a monster—and he won’t be hurting you or anyone else ever again.”

Bella froze, and then pulled back, her eyes wide. “…He won’t?”

Esme shook her head, her expression fierce. “James is dead.”

Bella stared, her mouth hanging open. Esme took her face in her hands again. “You are a good, brave girl, Bella,” she said. “Did you distract him on purpose like that, with the beads?”

“Oh—no, I—that was an accident.”

“But you still knew enough to use it to try to get away—smart girl,” she said. “And then you fought him with fire.”

Bella swallowed. “That was Waylon’s lighter. My dad’s friend, he—”

Her voice broke, and Esme gathered her up in her arms again. “James was a filthy, disgusting animal,” she hissed. “He liked to do that—collect trophies of his kills. He wasn’t just a vampire—he was a serial killer.”

Bella remembered all the things hanging from his jeans and his jacket and felt vaguely sick. “What—what happened?”

“Your distraction was perfect,” Esme told her. “James was—dealt with.”

Bella pulled away again to look up at her. “But—but Edward was—and Victoria—did Emmett get to him—”

Esme pulled her head back down against her shoulder, shaking her head. “Emmett grabbed him—but Alice took care of him.”

“Alice?!”

She felt rather than saw Esme give a tiny, satisfied snort. “Alice, you’ll find, has a rather black and white view of things,” she said. “Either you are good, or you are bad. She is quite liberal in her definition of ‘good,’ but once you’ve been decided as ‘bad,’ well, that’s that. And not only was James ‘bad,’ but he was threatening someone she considers family—and Alice can be very fierce when defending the people who are dear to her.” Esme’s hand smoothed over her hair. “I understand you know that apparently James was…involved in her being changed in the first place?”

Bella remembered what Edward had said…and then remembered what James had said. “Yes,” she said slowly.

Esme didn’t volunteer any further information on the subject, just said, “Well, then as far as I’m concerned, there was a certain poetic justice to it.”

Bella was quiet for a moment, finally allowing herself to feel the relief that had been welling inside her to know that James was dead—as well as a tiny bit of nasty, vindictive pleasure. But she quickly remembered that that wasn’t all there was to it. “What about Victoria?” she asked.

She felt Esme stiffen a little, and she finally pulled back, releasing Bella from her embrace. “Victoria is gone,” she said evenly. “She ran off rather quickly once Rosalie and Jasper arrived on the scene and James was dead.”

Bella peered at her, slightly confused by her suddenly closed expression, before the mention of Jasper started making things click. “Victoria…I think she’d said something about having trouble with the Imperials?”

Esme sighed and started fussing with Bella’s blankets. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “She does—the same trouble Jasper has, actually. They’re both fugitives from the same incident.” At Bella’s startled look, she elaborated, “That’s why she ran off—she recognized him. They have…a history.” She looked up at Bella and started straightening her hospital gown around her shoulders. “She was quite frightened of him—I don’t think she’ll be back.”

Bella itched to ask for more detail, but Esme just stood again, snapping her bed rail back into place and briskly saying, “Now—you need to know our cover story, in case anyone asks. Are you sure you can remember everything I’m about to tell you?” Bella nodded, and she went on.

“The story we’re giving is that you and four of the kids decided to go out for a drive—they wanted to show you our favorite camping spots in the park or whatnot. You ran your truck home so you could all just pile in two cars, and they were planning on swinging back to drop you home without detouring to our house. You were in Rosalie’s Mustang with her and Alice—you were in the front seat. While you were in the park, an elk jumped in the road and Rose couldn’t avoid it; you hit it and went off the road and rolled. You took the brunt; Alice and Rose’s injuries were superficial. Emmett and Edward were behind you in the Jeep—Jasper had stayed home. You were unconscious and bleeding, so they gave you first aid and then Emmett drove all three of you girls straight to the hospital while Edward stayed with the wreck and called the police.” She broke her sharp recitation to add that, “In reality, Jasper and Edward had stayed behind to stage the accident, and once Edward had gone with the police, Jasper…cleaned up.”

Bella shuddered, and then had to ask, “What about—what about Edward? He was—I—”

Esme sighed, patting her knee. “He didn’t touch you,” she said. “I know he—you were bleeding, dear, and you know what that—” She paused, looking off for a moment but then turned back and looked her in the eye. “He didn’t touch you,” she repeated. “And he is adamant that he would not have. He had gotten himself under control and was trying to apply pressure to your injury, and Emmett tackled him away from you anyway, just to be sure, but he—he didn’t touch you.”

Bella exhaled slowly. He didn’t touch her—but he had still been licking up her blood.

Esme let her sit in silence for a moment, before she finally asked, “The dinner cart should be coming by—do you think you’ll want to eat?” Bella shook her head; she wasn’t the least bit hungry, and her insides were still tight and uncomfortable over—over everything. “Is there anything else you need to say or want to talk about—about what happened to you?”

She shuddered a little, but shook her head once more. James was gone—that was good enough for her.

Esme patted her knee again. “All right—but if you do, then you call for me, any time, day or night. Carlisle and I take extra shifts, but even if I’m not here, you tell them to call me if you want to talk—and don’t be afraid to talk. Don’t try to bury it, especially since you have to keep so much of it a secret from everyone else,” she said. “You call me any time you need to talk.”

Bella managed to smile in thanks, and nodded.

Esme nodded back, straightened her pillows and moved her water glass to within easy reach on her bedside table—and then paused. “There is…one other thing,” she said, her voice very steady. “Would you feel up to one more visitor this evening?” At Bella’s questioning look, she said, “Edward is here. He—he says that it is urgent that he speak with you—if you are willing.”

Bella had sucked in a sharp breath in surprise in hearing that he was here, close, flashing back to his eyes—to his teeth—but then she remembered his horrified screams when James had her—remembered that he came to save her, that he was going to do whatever James wanted just to keep her safe, and she let the breath out slowly before firming her jaw and nodding.

Esme too let out a breath, and patted her cheeks again. “Are you sure, Bella? If you really aren’t up to it, I know he’d be all right to wait another day.”

“No, I—” Bella swallowed, not quite knowing what she wanted to say, and so she settled for nodding once more.

“Sweet girl,” Esme beamed. “I’ll tell him.” And she sailed out the door, leaving Bella alone. At least for the moment. She fussed with the monitor on her finger, tension starting to wind in her spine as she waited.

Edward was here. He wanted to talk to her. But what was he going to say? What could he say? He’d been licking her blood off the floor—what on earth was he going to say about that? And James—what James had said, those awful things he said—but those things he knew, too—was Edward going to tell her how he knew James, and what had happened between them?

She heard the tiniest whisper of a sound, and she looked up.

Edward was standing in the doorway to her room.

He wouldn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands twisting fistfuls of his shirt.

There was an uncomfortable silence. He looked like he always did, standing there in the neat cleanliness of the hospital room: tall and rangy, his hair an artful mess that she would swear he spent hours arranging if she hadn’t seen him muss and tug at it all the time, his hands fidgeting restlessly.

But at the same time, all she could see in her mind’s eye were his teeth, long and gleaming in the last remnants of the sun, long ropes of saliva—or venom—stringing down from them, his eyes that terrible, gleaming gold, and his full lips stained with her blood as those long-fingered hands reached for her.

The silence was stretching so taut that it threatened to snap, so Bella mustered what little courage she hadn’t spent in the last day and said quietly, “Do you want to sit down?”

He jumped as if stung, his eyes darting up to her for a split second before flinching away.

Bella shifted a little, careful not to jostle herself too much—before realizing and asking, “…Or…can you? Since I’m—is it—is it not a good idea?”

He twitched. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice low. “You—you had a transfusion. It helps.” He swallowed, his eyes closing briefly. “You don’t…smell like you.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said carefully. “Then…should we shut the door?”

He swallowed again, and then nodded, stepping inside and pulling the door closed, and then crossing the room and only hesitating briefly before dropping down into the empty chair by the bed where Charlie had been sitting before.

He still wasn’t looking at her. Just staring at the floor, although this close she could still see that his eyes were red-rimmed—and were back to the familiar rusty color she’d come to associate with the Cullens, not that beautiful, awful gold like James.

Finally, he spoke. “Bella, I—” he started, and then had to stop again, squeezing his eyes closed. “I’m so sorry,” he said lowly. “For everything. It’s—it’s my fault. All of it.”

She hadn’t been expecting that—well, not entirely. She knew he would blame himself, but she thought he would immediately address what happened at the end—not at the beginning.

“I—it’s hardly your fault that—that James tried to—”

“No.” His voice was rough. “It is—it’s my fault he went after you. He only did it because of me.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault—you didn’t do anything—”

A harsh, painful sound escaped him; it could barely be called a laugh, sounded more like a sob. “Yes I did,” he rasped. “And—and you paid for it, and I—I nearly—” He broke off, pressing the heel of one hand into his eye.

She swallowed, remembering the flash of teeth and the glimmer of gold—but she was here now, safe and healing. “It—it didn’t happen again,” she said quietly, and he finally looked up at her. “You said—you promised it wouldn’t happen again—and it didn’t. You—you didn’t touch me, and you didn’t—you didn’t.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with disbelief—but then he looked away again. None of the hopeful shyness like the last time she told him that she forgave him. His head remained bowed, his fingers knotting in her blanket where his hand rested on the bed. “It still wouldn’t have happened at all if I…if I hadn’t…” His fingers clenched tightly, and she heard him draw in a hitching breath.

She could see his shoulders quivering, and she felt her eyebrows knitting in concern. She leaned forward, just a little, trying make him meet her eyes. “Edward?”

“It’s all true!” he suddenly burst out, fisting his hand in his hair and jerking his head to one side. “I ate people!”

Bella reared back in shock; Edward recoiled from her, huddling in a ball in the chair. “What James said—I did it! I ate them, I—I’m a murderer!” His voice broke, and he buried his face in his knees. “Just like he said. Just…just like him.”

Bella stared, her mouth open, her stomach tying itself in knots, her heart setting the monitor to beeping faster.

What? He—what?

James knew things, but she—she didn’t think—she wondered, but she didn’t really believe—James was a monster, why would she believe anything he said—

—only now Edward said it was true.

She just stared at him. Watched him rocking back and forth, hiding his face from her, his fingers yanking at his hair, his shoulders shaking.

…he was crying, she realized. He said before that he couldn’t, but there was no mistaking the hitching breaths, the shudders wracking his narrow shoulders.

But she didn’t know what to do—what to say. She just worried at the skin on the pad of her thumb.

“I…”

She started, looking up from where she’d been staring at the blankets at the broken sound of his voice, her thumb dropping from her mouth down to her collarbones, where she started tugging on the chain around her neck, the clip on her finger cold against the skin of her chest.

“I wasn’t very old,” he finally rasped. “I—I’d left Carlisle and Esme. Needed to get away. I—I was in Chicago, and I—there was a woman. A man was attacking her, and I—I saved her. I did,” he said to his knees. “She got away. But I…I wasn’t paying attention, and the man—Reggie, his name was Reggie, he—he attacked me.” He swallowed noisily. “I—I wasn’t a good fighter then, and I—he stabbed me, and I was bleeding out, and in the scuffle I—he got cut, and he—he was bleeding—just like you—only I—”

He pressed his face back to his knees again, slowly starting to rock again, back and forth. “Carlisle, he—he doesn’t know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “He’s never—he’s only ever eaten animals. He doesn’t know how—different it is. How much better it is.” A harsh sound escaped him. “I was a murderer—and an addict. I just…I felt so much stronger—so much better—that I—it didn’t matter that I said I'd never do it again, I just went straight for the worst part of town I could find, just looking for someone else, lying to myself that I could quit any time I wanted, and then immediately, the next person I fought, stopping a crime, I—I justified it. It was so easy—they were bad people—they deserved it—when all it really was…was me after a fix.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the beeping of her monitors.

“But that’s no excuse!” he suddenly shouted. Bella, who had been held rapt in horrified fascination, jumped at the sound, but he didn’t seem to notice, the words spilling out of him as if they’d been piled up behind his lips all this time. “How could I do that—with what I can do—what I can hear—I knew their names! They were people with lives and names and I knew it and I didn’t care! I ate them anyway!”

A sob escaped him, muffled in his knees. It took him a moment; he tried to speak again but couldn’t get the words out until he’d stilled. Finally, he said, “And then—then I met James.” The last word came out as a snarl. “I was—I was lonely, and I thought I—I thought oh, look, I was a real vampire now, it was fine and we could be friends, and I ignored everything I could see—everything I could hear—just pretended everything was fine, was all so chummy with him—with that monster!” Another hitching breath, and then he slumped against the back of the chair. “…But I was a monster too.”

His voice was so very small, and despite herself, despite everything, Bella felt her heart thump in sympathy.

Edward seemed to steel himself, finally lifting his face from his knees. Bella could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot—but his cheeks were dry. He could cry…but he had no tears, she realized.

He stared at the far wall as he spoke again. “Finally, I—one night, we went out—out hunting—and I found another man, he was stalking a girl, a girl named Nancy, she was walking home, and he was after her, and so I went after him—but James went after her.” He swallowed. “I—we fought. I tried to make him let her go, but he wouldn’t, and we fought, and we—we’re so strong, when we eat people, and I was so angry, and then I—” He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead back down on his knees. “She died,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I—I didn’t mean to, but we—we were fighting, she was between us, and I wasn’t paying attention, and she—her neck was broken.”

Another dry sob, and Bella’s heart clenched again, but she still she waited.

Edward again seemed to control himself, and resumed his tale, staring back at the wall. “We—our fight, it—we attracted Imperial attention—we had to run. We jumped on a barge, and rode it down the river to throw them off our trail. We wound up in New Orleans, and the Imperial governor there found us, brought us with him to keep an eye on us, and he offered to feed us. He liked feeding off hospitals and asylums—said the patients there were just drains on his precious city.”

A disgusted bark of laughter escaped him. “I was so self-righteous, lecturing him about how wrong it was, as if I was any better than they were,” he sneered. “I went on about how we could eat animals, like I hadn’t been eating people the whole time. He threw me out then, and I stormed off in this hypocritical temper as they went off to go eat hospital patients, only I—I suddenly—I suddenly realized…”

He was pressing his cheek against his knees, looking away from her. “I don’t know how long I was up there, on the roof,” he whispered, so quietly she could barely hear him. “Just—just sitting there, all of my lies to myself just crumbling around me, and I—I couldn’t deny it anymore—how what I was doing no different—how I was just another murderer, and I—” His voice cracked again, his shoulders shaking, but he took another ragged breath and kept talking. “And that’s when I heard James. He was—there was a girl there—Mary—in the asylum where they went to feed, and she—the governor was saving her—she was going to be so powerful that he wanted to change her to be his underling. Only James had decided he wanted her for himself and was going to steal her, and I chased after him, I thought if I could just save her—if I could save just one—then maybe—maybe it would—maybe I…”

He trailed off, and Bella remembered the rest of the story, the horrible conclusion that he’d told her just the day before, of the hospital burning down with all the inhabitants in it.

“So there is it,” he said roughly, startling her. “I’m no better than James—nothing but a filthy murderer.”

Bella looked down again, tugging at her necklace. He sounded—he sounded so broken.

She licked her lips, and finally asked, “When—when was this?”

Edward flinched when she spoke, his face still turned away. “The winter of nineteen twenty-seven and twenty-eight,” he said.

Bella blinked at him. “Just—just a few months?”

“That was long enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “I killed and ate six people—and then I killed Nancy, and all those people in the hospital, just in those few months.” He pressed his face back into his knees. “I remember all of them—all their names. Reggie and Frogs and Hank and Mario and Pete and Rocko—and Nancy.” A shudder rippled down his spine. “I never knew all the names of the people in the hospital—but I heard them—I felt them, as they died.” Another grinding, painful bark of laughter. “And all this time I thought I’d killed Mary, too—Mary Alice—when I might have just changed her—she was bleeding, during our fight—it was just like Nancy, only I lost control, and I don’t know—I may have bitten her, and made her—made her like me.”

He head suddenly shot up. “I swear, Bella, I’ve never—since then I’ve never hurt another human being in my life, never, I swear to God I haven’t, not one, never laid a finger on one until I—until you—” he faltered, and then pressed his face back down on his knees.

Bella looked away too, pressing her hand against her mouth. She felt—she felt sick, hearing that—because of him…and for him. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, her fingers slipping down to fiddle with her necklace again—at the little silver cross that she’d been wearing since Friday.

The silence drew out, until finally, this time, it was Bella who broke it.

“I’ve met a former Death Row inmate before,” she said quietly.

Edward’s head snapped up, the shock of her words breaking him out of the ball he was curled in.

“My—my physical therapist—from back when I had my car accident—my real one. She went to some Christian college, and there was some missionary-type program, I think, where they wrote to people on Death Row, and she wound up writing to Luke,” she said.

Edward was just staring at her, his eyes wide.

She went on. “She—she wrote to him for years—heard all about him—all the stuff he’d done—and the stuff he was still doing in prison, bad stuff, except—eventually, he turned his life around,” she said. “Started ministering to other prisoners, working all kinds of programs on the inside. Got his GED—even started counseling families of murder victims.” She looked at him. “Eventually he got his sentence commuted—and after twenty years, they let him out, and—well, it sounds crazy, but he and Kelly got married.”

Bella shrugged. “Now he has his own business, does outreach to other people still in prison—and just last year, right before I left Phoenix, he and Kelly had taken in his nieces. His sister is still into bad drugs and stuff, and they got them out of there and are giving them a good home,” she said. She looked up at Edward’s stunned and confused face. “I—well, my mom started inviting them over, since they were such good friends, and Kelly told her all this that first time to make sure she was okay with having Luke over too, and she was, so I met him.” She smiled a little at the memory, of how she had been so apprehensive, only to meet the short, soft-spoken man who had been so nice that evening. “He’s a really nice guy,” she said. “We used to meet them for dinner all the time.” She tugged her necklace towards Edward. “They gave me this for my sixteenth birthday,” she said.

Edward was still just staring at her, and she took a deep breath, and then said, “So, I guess, the thing is, I—I know the difference between a murderer and—and an ex-murderer.”

Edward started violently, his feet falling to the floor as he twisted in the chair. “What—but I—how can you say that when I—I’m not—” He couldn’t seem to get out a full sentence.

Bella just shrugged again. “Luke was into hard drugs, dealing and using, and he killed a man—really horribly, I think—I mean, I don’t know all the details, but—he realized what he’d done was wrong, he’s sorry, he’s never going to do it again, and now he helps people.” She lifted her eyebrows a little, peering at Edward’s stunned expression. “I—it’s awful, that you did that,” she conceded, which was enough to make him flinch, “but you’re sorry, you don’t do it anymore, and you help keep people safe now—you kept me safe. And even Alice is safe now too.” She shrugged again. “It sounds—it sounds like you’re not a murderer anymore at all.”

She met his eyes again. He was looking at her intensely—almost hungrily, she thought, and repressed a small shiver at the thought, but no—he wasn’t a murderer anymore. He wouldn’t touch her.

“How—” he started hoarsely, and stopped to clear his throat. “How did he do it?” At her furrowed brow he clarified. “Luke. How did he—move on? Stop—stop being a murderer?”

Bella smiled a little. “Well—it’s gonna sound cliché, but he got religion in prison—I think Kelly helped him with that, and now—”

The sudden bitter laugh startled her. “That won’t help me,” Edward spat, his hands tight on the rail of her bed, and Bella just stared at him. “That’s all well and good for him,” he snarled, “but what good does that do for a—a filthy soulless monster?”

His head came down sharply on the rail of the bed, hiding his face from her again as she stared at him, shocked. “God doesn’t want me anymore,” he said to the floor, the sudden rage in his voice gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only despair behind. “I’m—I’m nothing but a—an abomination.”

Bella squirmed on her mattress, once again at a loss and very uncomfortable. But it still didn’t sound right to her, what he was saying. “But you—you all told me about how—how you guys are—scientific,” she protested. “You aren’t supernatural or anything—if you can be explained by science, doesn’t that mean that you—that you aren’t…unnatural?”

Edward let out a sharp breath. “Maybe for those who didn’t—didn’t sell themselves just for a good meal,” he sneered. “But not me—I know what I am.” He breathed heavily a few times, his fingers squeezing on her bedrail to the point that she heard it creak. “I’ve known what I am since the night I burned down that hospital—since I went to a church afterwards to try and beg for forgiveness and just got run off by the priest.”

Bella was appalled. “You got—a priest ran you off from a church?”

He snorted loudly. “No,” he said bitterly. “He actually tried to get me to come inside. Me?! After what I’d done?!” he spat. “I had no business there and I knew it. He’d have done better to try and exorcise me.” His voice went flat, hopeless. “I haven’t set foot near a church since. I’m not welcome there.”

Bella stared at him.

The room once again fell into strained silence, with only the sounds of Bella’s monitor and the creak of Edward’s hands twisting on the bedrail—and the occasional hitching sound that Bella now knew were the dry tears of a vampire crying.

But maybe…maybe she could help him…and maybe make him laugh instead.

“Have you heard the one about the priest who lived in the path of a hurricane?” she asked, forcing her voice to lightness. Edward stilled, and then raised his head, looking up at her with red, confused eyes.

Bella wasn’t the best at telling jokes, but she knew this one fairly well, so she plowed on. “The hurricane was coming, and so his neighbors packed up and came by to take him with them, but he wouldn’t leave and said, ‘God will save me.’ The hurricane hit, and the floodwaters rose, and when they were all the way up to his door a man came by in a boat to get him, but he said no because ‘God will save me.’ The water kept rising and flooded his house, so he went on the roof, and then a rescue helicopter came and dropped him a ladder but he wouldn’t use it because ‘God will save me.’ And the water kept rising, and the priest drowned.”

Edward was just looking at her blankly, and she started to falter, to think that maybe this wasn’t a such good idea after all, but, well, in for a penny, so she went on. “So the priest finds himself in Heaven, and he’s furious, so he pushes past St. Peter and marches right into the throne room and up to God and says, ‘What the hell, man? I had perfect faith that you would save me and you let me drown!’ And God just rolls his eyes and says, ‘I sent you a car, a boat, and a helicopter—what more did you want?!’”

She finished with a grin, but got no response, just that same baffled stare, only she thought he was starting to look hurt now, like he thought she was making fun of him, so she dropped it with a sigh. “Edward, I—I swear I’m not trying to be flippant here, but what you just said—didn’t you hear yourself?” She bit her lip. “I—I’m not saying it’s what happened, but it sure sounded like it to me: you said you realized you were wrong, you went to church, you asked for forgiveness—and then the priest came and told you to come inside?” She shrugged at him. “What more did you want?”

Edward froze.

He went utterly rigid, his eyes bulging and huge in his face, his knuckles white on the bedrail. He didn’t blink; he didn’t breathe.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just kept staring at her, and Bella found herself unable to meet his gaze, her stomach dropping along with her eyes as she started to squirm.

This—this wasn’t working. But the silence was so awful that she felt compelled try to say something—anything else. “I—Edward, this—this really is above my pay grade, to talk to you about stuff like this, but—it really just sounds to me like the only person who hasn’t forgiven you…is you.”

Just that same frozen silence; she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her. She licked her lips and said, “Edward?” and tentatively touched his hand.

He jerked away as if he’d been burned and flew out of the chair, and she barely heard him choke out, “I have to go,” before he was gone.

Bella slumped back in her bed, her eyes stinging again. Great, just great, Bella, she thought to herself, rubbing her face with her good hand, trying to avoid poking herself in the eye with the clip on her finger.

She just…didn’t have any energy left tonight.

But she couldn’t sleep now—not now with her head full of recrimination after what Edward had told her and then she just went and botched it so badly. She was glad when Esme came in later for her nighttime pain meds. Her leg was hurting worse by now, but more importantly, she’d said they would knock her out.

“Are you all right?” Esme asked, eyeballing her.

Bella’s affirmative was listless.

“Did Edward talk to you?” she wanted to know as she jammed the syringe into Bella’s I.V.

“Yeah,” said Bella heavily. “But I just made it worse.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Esme said firmly. “I’m sure Edward just needs some time—and you do too, I’d wager. You get some rest—you’ll feel better about all this in the morning.”

Bella doubted the latter, but didn’t have much choice on the former, because Esme hadn’t been lying about her medication just to get Charlie out of the room. Whatever she’d given her put her out like a light.

Bella had fallen asleep so early and so quickly the night before that she actually woke up at eight the next morning, and Esme was pleased that she felt up to eating her bland hospital breakfast of dry eggs, sausage, toast, and a fruit cup. And when Charlie arrived a bit later in the morning, she was surprised to see that Billy had come with him. So in the end, with hugs and family and company to talk to, Esme had been proven right: Bella did find herself feeling better that morning.

“Where’s Jacob?” she had to ask, in a lull in the conversation.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Bella, honey—with the way that boy pesters you every time you get yourself banged up? That’s the last thing you need—I’m not letting him near this place.”

She’d protested, but Billy just laughed. “You work on getting healed up, and when you’re settled in at home we’ll both come by,” he said.

“Yeah—can we still do Sunday? Isn’t it the semi-finals?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Bella,” Charlie said gruffly. “You don’t need to be doing anything stressful.”

“Jacob is the definition of stress,” Billy said. “Although…” His eyes twinkled. “As an incentive to get well, if you do think you’re feeling up to it, I’ll make Jacob do all the cooking and wait on you hand and foot while we’re there.”

“Dad, we have to have them over on Sunday,” she said fervently, and Charlie laughed.

Charlie had to leave not long after to head up to PA. Renée’s shuttle would be arriving at 1:15, and he had to be there to pick her up. Billy stuck around a bit longer, though, just chatting with her and keeping her company and finally leaving a little before lunch.

Carlisle had come in to see her, then, and he seemed surprised to see Billy there. “Oh—good morning, Chief Black,” he said.

“Cullen.”

Carlisle came over to Bella, asked her how she was feeling, and had her do a few of the head-injury test exercises again.

“You’d better be taking good care of her,” Billy said as Carlisle was marking her charts.

“Most assuredly,” Carlisle answered.

“Bella’s my goddaughter, you know.” His smile had a strange quality to it. “As far as I’m concerned, that makes her Tribe. And I don’t want to see anything else happen to her.”

Bella blinked a little, touched by the sentiment.

“Of course not,” Carlisle said easily. “And I promise you that she’s getting the best care available.”

“Right.”

Carlisle tucked her chart away and smiled at her, and then went to leave, although he paused, holding to the door open. “Are you coming this way, Chief Black?”

“Yeah—I think I’d better.” Billy turned back to Bella, his wide face creased with a smile. “Gotta get home to make sure that brain-damaged child of mine hasn’t burned the house down,” he said, making her giggle. “You get better now, honey,” he told her, and he heaved himself up for a hug before wheeling around and heading out the door with Carlisle following behind him.

But her room was still bustling afterwards. Esme came by when she was eating her soup and sandwich for lunch, just to check up on her, and after she ate, she got a visit from Emmett and Alice.

Alice came bounding in with a fluffy little teddy bear, a vase full of cheerful yellow and white daisies, a big mylar balloon that said “GET WELL SOON,” and a card that she and Rosalie and Jasper and Emmett had all signed. She seemed, as always, delighted with everything, proudly showing off her bandaged forehead and wrist brace for her faked injuries (“I wanted one on my foot too but Carlisle said I couldn’t.”), demanding to sign Bella’s cast (“This stuff is hard to write on!”), and was vastly disappointed when Bella said she couldn’t take off her bandages so she could see her injury.

Emmett just stood to the side and allowed her to chatter on, until she finally paused, and he just leaned down over her and said, “So, Bella.” And he paused, making a show as if looking around to make sure no one was listening, and then he grinned and said, “Badass.”

Bella’s face got hot. “I—I didn’t feel very badass,” she muttered.

Emmett just chuckled, patting her shoulder. “Trust me, you were. And you’ve got the scars to prove it.”

“Is, um—” she looked sideways at Alice, who seemed completely unaffected. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, and then grimaced. “Well, I mean, Rose is pissed as hell. That was her Mustang,” he said. “She had it all souped up and modded, and, well—it’s totaled now.”

Bella winced. “Oh, man, I—I’m sorry—”

Emmett waved this off. “Nah, it’s not your fault. And it’s fine—she’ll fume for a few days and then she’ll just use it as an excuse to tell us all that she needs to buy a new car,” he told her, sounding amused by the prospect. “Right now I’m keeping her distracted with that old Model B we’re fixing up.”

She looked at Alice again. “And—and you’re okay?”

“Yes! I know my name now! I was Mary Alice Brandon and I was born in Mississippi on January seventeenth in 1909 and I’m nineteen!” She beamed. “I have a tombstone in Biloxi!”

That…was a thoroughly morbid thing to be so pleased over. But, then again, that was just…Alice.

But that wasn’t what she meant, either. “I meant…you’re okay…about everything? About…James?”

“Oh, yes,” Alice said, her face suddenly falling into blank sobriety. “James was very bad. He hurt Edward and he tried to eat me, and he was going to eat you. It is good that he’s gone.” Then she blinked and her face was once more wreathed in her laughing smiles. “And now I'm here and I know who I was and you’re getting better and everyone is safe!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Emmett tossed in, and, well, Bella really couldn’t.

But she could and did ask, “Have—have you seen Edward today?”

“Nope,” Emmett shrugged. “He ran off the other day; we didn’t see him all last night.” Guilt gnawed Bella’s stomach. Emmett didn’t seem to notice, just continued, saying, “He’ll be fine—he does that sometimes. Has to get away from everybody so, you know, he can hear himself think.” He tapped his knuckles on his temple. “He’s got a spot out in the woods behind the house he likes to go to—he’s probably out there.”

“He’ll be back,” Alice said, with confidence that Bella supposed she was more entitled to feel than anyone.

They lingered a bit longer until Bella mentioned that her parents would be here soon, so they decided they should go. Alice had made it to the door before she stopped and spun on her heel and asked Bella if she could give her a hug.

“Oh—um, sure, Alice,” she said, unable to keep from smiling.

Alice bounced and clapped her hands before throwing herself at Bella’s bed.

“Gently, Alice,” Emmett admonished.

She took his words to heart; Alice’s hug was so gentle that she barely touched Bella at all, except where she laid her head down on her shoulder, and Bella patted her back with her good hand, the feathers on her sleeves tickling her nose. Alice was beaming when she pulled away, and then chirped, “Bye!” before dashing away again.

Emmett just chuckled, and leaned down. “Badass,” he said again, and swooped in and dropped a kiss on her cheek, leaving her flustered and blushing. “Get better soon, sweetheart,” he said, and strolled off out of the room after Alice.

Left alone at last, there wasn’t much else to do but wait for Charlie and Renée to get there. She spent a good chunk of the time just contemplating the exquisite tedium of being stuck in a hospital. Hopefully she could get Renée to raid her craft stash and maybe find something she could work on while she was here.

She was snapped out of her boredom by a shuffling sound to her right and she looked over.

There was a giant bouquet of lilies standing in her doorway.

She blinked, and then spotted a very familiar tuft of golden-brown hair peeking up over them, followed by two thick eyebrows and a pair of pale, anxious eyes.

“Edward.”

He nearly tripped over himself coming into the room, unnecessarily blurting, “I got you these.” He thrust the enormous vase at her, and then flushed when he obviously realized she was in no position to take it, and yanked it back and took it over to the table with Alice’s gifts.

He stood there for a moment, his back to her, fussing with the things on the table, until Bella ventured, “Are you okay?”

He gusted out a breath, his stiff shoulders relaxing a little. “I—yeah,” he said. “Yes. I just needed—I needed some time.”

Bella looked miserably down at her blankets. “Edward, about, about yesterday. I—I’m sorry I—”

“What?” He whirled around. “No! Bella, no, you don’t have anything to be sorry about!” he said, rushing over to her bedside, sitting down next to her and looking earnestly up at her.

“I—I don’t?”

He shook his head. “No—never. I—” He bit his lip, looking at her blankets. “You just…gave me a lot to think about.”

“…Oh.”

Silence. Both of them were looking at her blankets, only she was the one fidgeting with them, instead of Edward. “Um, did you go to—to your thinking place? In the woods?” He looked a bit startled until Bella added that, “Emmett and Alice came by. He said you have a place you like to go.”

“Oh—right. Yes. I mean, no. I mean,” he tried again, “I do have a place, but I—wasn’t there. I—I just stayed here last night.”

He looked down, took a breath, and said in a very quiet voice, “I…spent the night in the chapel.”

…oh.

Edward met her eyes again, then, with that same earnest look, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t name. She felt a tiny flip in her belly, like a little fish.

Hesitant to break the very fragile silence between them, she tentatively asked, “And…did it help?”

A beat, and then he moved his hand, just a little, and she felt it brush against hers. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think it did.”

The moment hung there, suspended between them, and she was unable to look away from his bright eyes, and his finger stroked once over her own, feather-light—

And then he stood. “Your parents are here,” he said. “I should go.”

And sure enough, not a moment later, Renée appeared in the doorway and then came flying into the room, muscling Edward out of the way without so much as a second glance so she could throw her arms around Bella and start crying.

Bella held her as tight as she could with her one good arm. Charlie was standing to the side; Edward gave him a deferential nod as he slipped silently from the room, and Bella looked back to her mom and told her that she was okay, that everything was going to be all right.

Renée got herself under control fairly quickly, a trait she’d always possessed: let her cry out a few buckets and then she was right as rain. Bella envied it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, sitting down and mopping up her face with a tissue. “I’ve been so worried about you!” She squeezed her hand. “Are you sure you feel all right?”

Bella smiled. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m gonna be fine.”

Chapter Text

“For heaven’s sake, Bella, stop flinching!”

“I can’t help it! It feels like you’re going to stab me in the eye!”

“I am only going to stab you if you keep moving! Now hold still!”

Rosalie gripped her chin in tight fingers, and Bella fought to keep from blinking as she ran the tiny brush along her lower lashline.

It only took a moment, and then she was done, letting go of Bella and leaving her to blink furiously after holding her eye open and still.

“Don’t look yet!” Rosalie snapped when she caught Bella turning toward the mirror, and she jerked her head back guiltily. “Not until I’m done!”

She instead looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was just before six. Edward was supposed to be here to pick her up at six thirty for prom.

Because he was her date.

Rosalie set aside her makeup palette and her brush, regarding Bella critically from side to side. They’d all taken turns doing first their hair and then makeup, but Bella was last on both so she could be fussed over by both Rosalie and Alice. Once she was done it would finally be time for all three of them to put on their dresses.

Bella still wasn’t entirely sure how this had become her life, but here she was. She supposed, if nothing else, going through everything she had with James had made all the Cullens felt like they owed her something. But it didn’t really feel like that—Alice was honestly thrilled to be getting ready for prom with Bella, and even Rosalie, for all her snappishness while getting them ready, also seemed quite pleased to be bossing them both around and getting all dressed up for a night out with Emmett.

Bella herself still wasn’t entirely at ease with her situation. Because she was going with Edward.

For all the brief, awful excitement of those last days in March, everything after that had been largely uneventful, if never quite to the point of being boring. Renée had stayed with her at the hospital every day, with Charlie visiting at lunch and after work. Renée had obligingly brought her some cross-stitch to work on for when she had nothing else to do, and Charlie had brought some cards and the cribbage board for when he was there in the evenings, and she’d had another visit from Alice. Edward had brought her, but he had mostly stood quietly in the background and let Alice chatter away. Although before he left, he did shyly present her with the first four of his set of the Oz books for her to read while she was there.

The unfortunate side-effect of their visit was the fact that Renée had now spotted Edward in her hospital room twice, and knew that he brought her flowers and loaned her his own books, and that had been enough for her to start interrogating Bella if he was her boyfriend, and her repeated denials did not seem to penetrate. She even started quizzing her about it once when Charlie was in the room—and rather than help her out, that traitor had just bailed on her and left her by herself to once again futilely try to convince her mother that no, she wasn’t dating anyone.

She’d been discharged on Friday afternoon, and rolled to the curb in the usual wheelchair before bracing herself on her new crutch and hobbling into Charlie’s cruiser to get home. She was feeling remarkably well after only three days in the hospital; Carlisle had said as much to her parents, and Bella had given him a sharp look. He only winked at her as he left the room.

It had been nice, to be at home with both her parents there. They’d spent all day Saturday together, and after only a bit of wheedling she and Renée had managed to convince Charlie that it was fine to host the usual watch party on Sunday.

True to his word, Billy had made Jacob cook the burgers that she’d missed out on during her previous trip to Port Angeles, and he’d spent the whole day obsequiously waiting on her, complete with a tea-towel tucked in his belt loop and kneeling in front of her to present her with her plates and calling her "milady," and it was all done in such a ridiculous, over-the-top manner that she’d been seized with fits of giggles on and off for the whole time.

Renée had stayed in Forks for the first two weeks of April. She’d been Bella’s ride to school, since she really hadn’t been in any shape to drive herself. And every morning like clockwork, Edward met her by the door to immediately carry her bag. She’d protested at first—if for no other reason than that it seemed to reinforce her mother’s ideas about him being her boyfriend. But he’d only patiently and penitently told her that since it was his fault that she couldn’t carry it, it was only right that he remedy the situation. She’d glared at him, but given that she only had one good arm, and that was taken up by her crutch…well. It really was easier to just let him do it. So he did—arriving at her every class to ferry her to her next one, and thoroughly charming Renée when he would escort her out to the truck after school. Bella was inexplicably annoyed with him for that last bit—perhaps in part because now she’d looked at him, so bizarrely smooth and confident and charming while talking to her mother, and at last had realized that he was cheating to be able to talk to people like that.

She at least had the smug satisfaction of knowing that she knew what he was really like.

So it had gone, until she’d been taken in for her two-week follow-up and Carlisle had cleared her to start driving short distances and engaging in light activity for short periods without her crutch. She was healing nicely (better than nicely, she knew, and she thanked him for it when she had a moment when they were alone, which he dismissed as “the least I can do”), and so Renée had flown back to Phil. Before she left, she said their next stop would be Florida, and Phil said it was almost in the bag that he'd be signed on with the club there, so she’d told Bella to keep her fingers crossed to visit the beach for the summer.

Right now, though, she was mostly just keeping her fingers crossed that maybe someday in the far distant future her makeup would actually be finished.

“Shouldn’t there be more blue, higher up?” Alice asked Rose, peering at Bella’s eye way too closely for comfort, although she’d gotten used to Alice’s ways by now.

“No,” said Rose firmly, snapping her palette closed and going for a pot of eyeliner. Bella sighed and resigned herself to having to hold her eyes still for even longer. “Just enough for color on the lid—none of that clown makeup you see on everyone these days.” She gave a derisive snort. “Subtlety is lost on this generation.”

Bella stifled a giggle. Rosalie had been a bit of a packaged deal with Alice and all the prom preparations, and in spending time with her Bella had found that she was a rather amusing mix of high school drama queen and old grandma in a rocking chair: at one point relaying some juicy bit of gossip she’d heard, and the next decrying “kids these days.”

Her giggle was quickly replaced with a scowl when Rosalie breezily added, “Besides—you know Edward will like it better this way.”

It had been only about two weeks ago when Edward had asked her to prom—if you could call it that—and Bella had been enduring non-stop grief about it ever since. Which was stupid, because it wasn’t a date. They were just going together, was all.

While she had started driving herself around once Renée was gone, and slowly starting to ease back into her habit of dancing through her chores as Kelly had got her doing for PT in the past, she’d still been using her crutch to get around at school. So Edward had still been dutifully following her through the halls that Thursday, slowing his long stride to match her uneven stumping across the floor as he picked her up at the end of the day to go first to her locker and then head out to her truck after gym (which, to her delight, had more or less become study hall for her since she was out for the count on medical leave—she’d done just about the entire first draft of her entire history paper there). The hallways by that point had already been festooned with decorations and various notices about the upcoming prom, and the gym and cafeteria doors had similarly been glitzed up with cotton-ball clouds and silver moons and stars on blue paper.

Prom was increasingly dominating the conversation she overheard through the hallways, too, and she’d nudged Edward and asked if it was even worse for him. His extravagant eyeroll had been all the answer she needed, and she giggled as they walked outside. It was sunny today, so Edward was all cinched up in his bulky hoodie, and even though she knew he’d covered up with makeup to hide his waxy complexion and all his extra little vampire molecules, she always found herself peering to see if she could spot a stray sparkle.

“It’s been nothing but dressmaking for weeks at home, too,” he grumbled as they approached her truck. She’d been granted a temporary handicapped pass by the school, so she was right by the door these days.

“Yeah, but that sounds like fun,” she’d argued. “I always took science instead of Home Ec. and stuff, but I always wished I could learn how to make my own clothes.”

“I'm sure Alice would love to show you,” he said as she unlocked her door. “Rose taught her not long after she and Jasper came to live with us, and she created a monster.”

Bella snickered. “Does she make all the fun things she wears?”

“Mostly.” Edward ducked into the cab to set her bag on the passengers’ seat, and then stood. But he didn’t say anything else, or leave now that she’d been safely delivered to her truck. No, he just stood there, his gaze cutting to the side as he started to fidget.

“So, um, yeah, everyone at home already has big plans,” he said abruptly. “For going out. And clothes. Alice is excited, but she keeps—she wishes you were coming, though. She keeps—she wants me to go to, but I—I said I wasn’t, but—”

Bella had felt her eyebrows lifting. As she had gotten to know Edward over the semester, his uncomfortable rambling when talking to her had gradually evened out. And for the past few weeks, now that she knew—well, everything—conversation between them had actually approached something close to normal. She figured that it was because he wasn’t trying to hide things anymore. But his sudden regression into this halting, awkward blathering, complete with shuffling feet, was giving Bella flashbacks to those days where she’d first met him.

He had spotted her expression and cut himself off, flushing a little. He coughed, looking at her briefly before his eyes skittered away. “Anyway, I—I was thinking that—what you said, before—I thought, maybe—did you want to go?”

Bella blinked at him, and then felt her face heat up as she managed to decipher the rushed question at the end. “You mean…with you?” she asked cautiously.

“Just as friends!” he’d quickly said, sounding vaguely panicked. “I just mean—you said you would—I can’t ask anyone else, you know that, but I—I thought Alice would like it, and she wanted us both to come, and—two birds and all, and I—but you don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Okay.”

His babbling cut off abruptly as he stared at her with his mouth slightly open.

“Sure,” she said more firmly, trying to brazen out the way her stomach was squirming in her middle. “I—I said I’d go, so, you know, you could finally have a prom and not get left behind by yourself.”

“…Really?”

The wiggling in her stomach only intensified at his quietly disbelieving question, and the way he was bashfully looking at her from under his lowered lashes. “Yeah,” she said, striving for cool. “It—it’ll be fun, to go with you guys.”

“Yeah. Fun. With us. Yes.” He coughed, straightening himself and seriously telling her, “Thank you,” except one corner of his mouth kept twitching upward like it was being yanked with an invisible string, and then he’d fallen silent again, the two of them just sort of awkwardly not-looking at each other, until a nearby slam of a car door had startled them out of it, and Edward had given her a hasty goodbye and all but fled across the parking lot.

She watched him go, flustered, bemused, and not at all sure exactly what she’d just agreed to.

It hadn’t taken long to discover that first and foremost what she had inadvertently signed up for was gossip.

She’d been forced to endure a spike in notoriety, at least among her friends and acquaintances, when she’d shown up at school after the break all banged up like she was, and she obligingly laughed along with them as they teased her about being so prone to car accidents, but she had settled down into her low-key anonymity afterwards, just like how she liked it. But during that time she’d also gotten so used to Edward, following her around with her bookbag, her silent shadow in the hallways and her lab partner in class, with all his awkward jokes and shy smiles and habitual fidgeting, that she kind of forgot that he, like all the Cullens, was a bit notorious among the general population in his own right. She was reminded with a vengeance, though, when it became public knowledge that he was her date for prom.

She was pretty sure it had been Tyler Crowley who had let that particular cat out of the bag. It had been that Friday in gym. It was another dodgeball day, as it often was on Fridays where Coach Clapp didn’t feel like organizing anything more elaborate, and Bella had been perched up in the bleachers watching it all and generally being glad she wasn’t out in it.

Tyler usually was one of the last ones out; he was on the baseball team and had a good arm and wicked aim, and was equally quick on his feet, but he’d been tagged by a lucky hit and had been forced to retreat early. He’d flopped down next to Bella, grinning good-naturedly.

“Who got you?” she’d asked.

“Connor,” said he said, peering out at the court. “Don’t worry—I’m gonna nail his ass in the next round.”

Bella had chuckled, but didn’t have much else to say on the subject. He’d cast around for a bit before gesturing up at the stage opposite the bleachers; the gym at Forks served as both the stadium and the auditorium, and right now the curtains were open so show the piles of prom furniture and decorations that were being prepped and stored there until they were due to go up in a few weeks. “Looks like the prom committee is going all out,” he remarked.

The theme, according to all the notices and bulletin boards, was going to be “Cloud Nine.” Bella could already see ropes of white lights and lots of gauze and fluffy things that she supposed would be clouds (she would have thought Forks would have had enough of those to last a lifetime). “Looks like more effort that I’d have put into it,” she’d admitted, and Tyler laughed.

“You not excited?” he’d asked.

She shrugged, downplaying it. “Not really,” she said lightly. “Not really my thing.”

“What—you don’t wanna go?”

She coughed a little. “Well, I—I hadn’t really planned on it if was just me, but—” She coughed again, and then forced herself to say in a rush, “I told Edward I’d go with him so he wouldn’t be stuck home alone.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she’d said quickly, “his whole family is going except him, and he was going to be stuck at home, and I was too, so we figured we could just go so we wouldn’t be by ourselves.”

“That’s cool,” Tyler said. “Nothing wrong with going with a friend. I’ll probably do the same.” She nodded, feeling oddly relieved that he understood, and he chewed his lip before saying, “Well, since we’re both just going with friends, how about you save me a dance?”

She’d been startled, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I won’t be driving, so you should be safe,” he’d added, and she’d laughed, and told him that sure, if he wanted to waste a dance on her, then she’d be happy to give him one.

Jennifer had appeared not long after, huffing about Austin Marks smacking her in the butt with a ball, and that had seemed to be the end of the conversation about prom. At least until the following Monday, when Bella had discovered that suddenly the whole school knew she was going to prom with Edward Cullen.

Okay, fine, not the whole school—she doubted that many people would have even cared—but it certainly felt like it, what with how many girls were pouncing on her to ask about it. Jessica and Angela were the worst, both of them crowing at lunch about how they knew it all along, and all Bella’s protestations that they were just going as friends fell on deaf ears.

She’d had to put up with it for nearly three days: girls she knew wanting the scoop, girls she didn’t know occasionally shooting her dirty looks in the hallway when they saw her walking with Edward, and Jessica and Angela needling her endlessly at lunch, until, surprisingly, Mike of all people had stepped in and saved the day.

“Why on earth do you care so much about this?” Bella had demanded in frustration one day, when Jessica started pestering her for details about what she was going to wear.

“Because I don’t have a date yet—I need to live through you vicariously!”

“Hey, Jessica,” Mike said. “You wanna go to prom with me?”

And Jessica was suddenly, completely, miraculously silent, just staring at Mike with her jaw hanging loose.

Bella, blinked, and then turned to Mike and said fervently, “My hero.”

Flustered and uncharacteristically shy, Jessica had accepted, and thankfully, at least at her lunch table there was a new topic of conversation.

Bella blinked again, now that she was finally allowed to after her latest coat of mascara. Rosalie eyeballed her, and then finally pronounced Bella’s eyes finished, thank goodness, and so was now moving on to dressing up the rest of her face now that there was no danger of flecks of eyeshadow raining down on her cheeks. Rose had been doing the bulk of the beautification tonight, although Alice had watched the whole process like a hawk, reporting on anything that was uneven or inadequately blended. Bella had at a few points during this whole rigamarole protested that she felt like she was just sitting here being useless and sponging off their expertise. Rose just rolled her eyes and told her she enjoyed this, so she should just sit back and enjoy it too.

Which was kind of how it had gone from the start, really. It had been a vain hope for life to settle back down to normal once she was no longer the main topic of conversation—because the instant Rosalie and Alice knew she was going with Edward, all bets were off. Alice was brimming with enthusiasm for prom even more than she usually was about everything else, and the very day that Edward had asked her, almost immediately after he’d fled from her in the parking lot, Alice had come running out of the building, swooped down on her, seized her in a hug that squeezed the breath right out of her, and then announced that she was so happy that they would all be going to prom together and now she and Rosalie were going to make her a dress too.

“What—Alice—you don’t need to make me a dress—” she wheezed.

“Nonsense.” Bella looked up to find that Rosalie had emerged from the building and was now standing next to her truck too, looking amused beneath her pretty purple sunhat. She glanced reflexively over at the Cullen SUV to see Edward, who was hunched down so far that his neck was completely gone while Emmett grinned at him, clearly teasing him about something, and to her annoyance Bella felt herself blushing. Rosalie just said, “Alice and I have already almost finished our own dresses, so we’ll be needing a new project anyway; I love designing clothes, and Alice loves making them.” She rolled her eyes. “And besides, Edward gave you next to no time to find a dress before asking you—isn’t that just like a man?” she sniffed.

Bella didn’t think that two weeks to shop was somehow worse than two weeks to actually design and sew a new dress, but Rosalie had blown that off. “We’ll call about you coming over this weekend,” she informed her. “We’ll get something planned and do a mockup.”

So, no—there really had been no escape from prom, even at home. Chief among the homefront drama had been the mortifying experience of telling her father that she did in fact have a date to prom. Charlie had puffed up like a bullfrog and done an immediate one-eighty on his previously positive opinion of Edward, and no amount of reassurance on Bella’s part that they were just friends, Dad! had stopped him from lecturing her on how worthless and horrible teenaged boys were and not to trust a word this one said to her because he was a liar just like all the rest of them, and he’d gotten her more pepper spray—and a pocket knife.

And then as often as not Rose and Alice had dropped by her house after school with dress fitting to do. Bella had gotten used to standing on a chair in a camisole and her underwear for a good chunk of the afternoon; it had been embarrassing at first, but after a few days of standing there being stuck with pins, it became old hat. By the following weekend, Rosalie had pronounced the pattern done, and with Charlie’s blessing (mostly because Edward would not be accompanying them), they’d whisked her off to Port Angeles for a Saturday outing to the fabric store to buy supplies and go shoe shopping.

“There,” Rose said at last, sounding satisfied as she lowered her lip brush and stepped back. “Now you can look.”

Slightly apprehensive, Bella did—and couldn’t help but blink in surprise. They’d curled her hair and pinned it in a pretty updo, with Alice sticking in a bunch of tiny jeweled pins that now winked out at her from amongst her hair, with a few artful corkscrew curls hanging down around her ears. Despite Rose’s comments about clown makeup, there was still plenty of blue on her eyelids, shading from almost white at the corners to a deep shimmery blue in the middle and black on the outside, and all framed with perfectly winged eyeliner that Bella could never manage on her own, and long, dark eyelashes. And somehow she’d managed to work some kind of shading sorcery to make Bella’s cheeks look higher and sharper, and to give her low, straight eyebrows more of an arch, and she actually had some color for a change.

“Wow,” she said, feeling a bit warm and fluttery. She’d never managed to get makeup to look like this.

Rose just smirked. “I’m good at what I do.”

Rosalie and Alice had actually arrived that day at three in the afternoon to start getting ready. Charlie had expressed the same skepticism about that as Bella had when Alice and Rose had made the arrangements, given that prom started at seven that night—skepticism that had deepened into alarm he watched the girls make three trips out to the car to bring all their supplies in. Rosalie had just tittered charmingly at his question about all that really being necessary. “Oh, Chief—you’ve obviously been living as a bachelor too long,” she said, flipping her gleaming, golden ponytail over her shoulder. “Beauty takes work.”

Bella found that a bit rich, coming from her, but Charlie just grunted and went back to his firearm maintenance. He had brought his entire collection out after lunch and now had spread it over the living room table in various states of assembly for, as he’d said with a rather grim smile on his face, something to keep himself entertained while the girls were primping.

Bella was under no illusions about why he’d chosen today to bring out every gun he owned.

But she’d had no time to take him to task for it—she’d been hustled upstairs for all of them to take turns in the shower, and then Bella had spent much of the afternoon and evening being primped, plucked, polished, powdered, perfumed, and painted. Rosalie had brought an entire suitcase of beauty products, most of which were brands that Bella had only heard of. All of them looked scarily professional, and Rose had worked her over with nearly every one of them.

It was exhausting work, and they weren’t even dressed yet—although that, she supposed, as Alice pulled their dresses out of their bags, was the easy part. Definitely for them, at least, as they shimmied right into their dresses in a trice. Only Bella was going to need help with hers.

Bella personally didn’t see how anyone was going to even be visible next to Rosalie. She had gone all out and was dressing for the era she was born in. Her long golden hair was waved and fluffed around her and pulled back high from her face in a Rita Hayworth look, with her brows drawn thin and her lips in a full red pout, and she was wearing an amazing 1930s vintage-style, floor-length red gown. It had a ruched bodice falling into a sweeping skirt, a plunging neckline, and a low back that was edging into dangerous territory. She looked, in short, like a Golden Age Hollywood beauty, stepped right off the silver screen.

Well—if anyone could still make a splash next to Rosalie, it was Alice. She’d told Bella that she was originally putting together something that was very Eighties, since that had been her first time at school, but now that she knew who she was and where she came from, it was all Roaring Twenties. Her black hair had been slicked down, and while it was too short for the big, dramatic Josephine Baker curls on her forehead and cheeks, Rose had managed to use gel to coax out some smaller ones all around her hairline. Her eyebrows were thin lines, with downward-tilted eye makeup and long black eyelashes, bright spots of blush on her cheeks, and a tiny rosebud mouth. The dress she’d dreamed up was a spot-on, classic Flapper: all black, with the plain black satin underdress with the low neckline, drop waist, and handkerchief hem, and all topped with the sheer overdress covered in beads and spangles and tied with the low sash, and the look was rounded out with a beaded and feathered headband, long strings of beads around her neck, and T-buckle shoes.

Looking at them was a bit disheartening, really, but nothing for it. Rose was already pulling out Bella’s dress too.

As per her marching orders, the weekend after Bella’s invite to prom, Rose and Alice had arrived on her doorstep to whisk her back to the Cullen house for her first round of dress design. She had seen Edward only briefly; given how they still couldn’t seem to look at each other without turning pink at that point, Bella couldn’t help but feel a measure of relief when Rose had unceremoniously kicked him out—not just out of the room, but out of the house.

“He’ll peek,” she’d said as Edward slunk resentfully out the back door. “He’ll watch through our eyes and see what we’re doing, and I’ll be too busy to think of something else to cover for it—we want your dress to be a surprise.”

She’d been escorted to a large room on the third floor of the house—a wonderful room, she’d found. There was none of the bland sterility of downstairs here—the whole finished attic space was devoted to all kinds of hobbies: painting and jewelry and models and sewing and dozens of other things that Bella itched to get her hands into.

She’d unfortunately had no time to snoop. Bella had been directed to the sewing corner, where she spent some time squirming as Rosalie eyed her appraisingly and drew sketches, occasionally getting Bella’s input on what she would or wouldn’t wear. Skirts couldn’t be too long or too tight—she would probably trip and break her neck. She was long-legged but short-waisted. She didn’t mind wide or low necklines to show off her cleavage. She definitely did not need something to call attention to her butt.

Rose had scribbled away, occasionally consulting a few pattern books she had, before finally producing a drawing she was satisfied with. She’d actually drawn a fashion plate, because of course she had, and the dress looked amazing, except—

“Um, Rosalie, I can’t really wear off-the-shoulder dresses,” she’d said haltingly. “Strapless bras really don’t give me enough support.”

“This one will,” she said, her eyes gleaming, and shuffled to the drawing behind the first one, which was the dress from behind, showing off the lacing going up the back. “You have lovely shoulders and we want to show them off, along with your bust—so this will be a corset dress.”

“A corset?!” she’d asked in alarm. “Rosalie, I still have to breathe!”

“Not a tight-lacing dress,” Rose had said scornfully. “Just a corset—it’s a foundation garment, Bella, hardly something dangerous. Trust me,” she’d said emphatically, as Bella had still looked dubious. “I know what I’m doing, and you’ll get to try on the mock-ups to see for yourself—done properly, they’re perfectly comfortable. You have just the figure for one anyway.” Bella was somehow both flattered and offended by this statement. Rosalie had just gone blithely on, saying, “You’ll change your tune once we get this on you and we nip in your waist just a little and push your boobs up to your chin. And Edward will love it,” she’d smirked.

Bella had gone very red and glared and told her that it didn’t matter what Edward thought because they were just going as friends.

“Does he know that?” Rose scoffed, leaving Bella to sputter, but she hadn’t been able to think up a good retort before she’d been summarily stripped down and forced to play dressmakers dummy while Rosalie draped her in cloth to make her pattern.

And yes, Rose had been right; the test versions of the dress bodice had been very comfortable, despite tugging in her waist a little, and the support that it offered had been amazing—no straps was no problem. Rose had been very smug about this. After only a week of fitting, they’d churned through multiple practice rounds and were ready with the final pattern.

Bella had still felt mostly superfluous even when they went fabric shopping, since really all she did was say that her favorite color was blue. Rose immediately made a beeline for a gorgeous royal blue satin, which had the added benefit of going well with her only really nice jewelry, the white gold and sapphire birthstone necklace that Renée and Charlie had clubbed up to buy for her sixteenth birthday. Fabric was duly purchased, and Rose and Alice worked during the week, and after only two more fittings and two weeks of work in total, it was done.

And it looked amazing, there was no denying it. A lovely off-the-shoulder bodice with the heart-shaped neckline of the corset. The skirt fell just past her knees, but Rosalie had designed it to have an asymmetrical tier to it, with the layers going from blue to navy to black. There was a crinoline to make the skirt flare out, and Alice had edged the black tulle in the same bright blue of the bodice, to flash under her skirt when she walked.

And even her shoes matched. Rose had urged heels when they went shopping, but Bella wouldn’t go for that on her best of days, much less when she was recovering from a leg injury, so Rosalie had grudgingly signed off on a pair of pretty flat sandals—which Alice had then trimmed with rhinestones and fabric from her dress.

Rose picked up the dress and shook out the skirt, just as Bella heard the sound of engines pulling up in the driveway. “Sounds like the boys are here,” she remarked. “Let’s get you in this.”

Bella heard the doorbell ring, and the sound of Charlie letting them in and then voices from downstairs. She couldn’t make any of it out, though, so best to just get dressed so she could get downstairs and call Charlie off from whatever he was doing to Edward. Rose and Alice helped her lower her dress down over her head without messing her coif. After Bella had gotten her girls positioned in the front, Rose cinched her up in the back, and Bella buckled her shoes on, and then Alice whisked off the towel she’d hung over the full-length mirror on the back of Bella’s door.

“Voila!” Rose announced.

Bella looked, and felt herself flushing with pleasure. She—she looked, well, she looked good. She’d never considered herself anything special, but…she felt pretty.

The effect was dampened somewhat, she noted wryly to herself, when her reflection was joined by those of two unnaturally flawless vampires, but that was just the way the cookie crumbled.

“There,” Rose said in satisfaction, admiring them all in the mirror. “Certainly more than mortal man deserves.” She turned, picking up her clutch purse from among the debris of the aftermath of their preparations, and Bella and Alice got theirs too (yes, Alice had even used scraps of material to make her a little purse that matched her dress too).

“Guys, I—thank you so much,” Bella said as the paused by the door. “Really. This—this is too much, but I—”

Rosalie breezily waved her thanks away with that arrogant graciousness Bella was coming to expect from her. “Of course it isn’t too much—don’t you worry a bit. And we had enormous fun doing it ourselves—we should thank you for the opportunity.”

“Yes—I loved it!” said Alice, throwing her arms around Bella, only to be scolded by Rosalie about wrinkling her dress.

“Now, let’s go. It’s good to keep them waiting a little—make them sweat—but I think we’ve gone on long enough,” Rose said, an she opened Bella’s door and swept out into the hallway.

Rose stopped them all at the head of the stairs to call down, “Are our dates here? Can we make our grand staircase entrance now?”

Bella heard what sounded alarmingly like the slide of a shotgun from downstairs before Charlie called back, “All right, girls—come on down.”

They went down the stairs in a line—red, black, and blue—Rosalie looking supremely confident, Alice practically dancing her way down, and Bella unable to keep from feeling quite silly.

But when she got downstairs, and Edward’s head snapped up to look at her and his jaw fell open—well. Then she felt something else entirely.

She could only bless Emmett for breaking that tension with a loud whistle, exclaiming that, “Hot damn—you three look good enough to eat!” which made her snort, and then she had to suppress a giggle at the fulminating glare Edward gave him.

“Well—don’t you look pretty,” Charlie said gruffly to them all, although he was looking at Bella when he spoke.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, a bit bashful.

Then she had to try and control her blushing enough to go say hello to Edward, who was still staring at her, holding a plastic clamshell containing a corsage in front of him like a shield.

“Hi,” she said. “You look nice.” And he did, too—unfairly so, really, all done up in his tux. He still hadn’t quite managed to put his hair in order, but she was glad—she wouldn’t have known what to make of him if he had.

“You too,” he blurted, and then thrust the flowers at her. “Here.”

A bit bemused, she took it and opened it to have a look; it was a pretty thing, a bunch of sweet-smelling white freesia and eucalyptus with blue and black ribbons. Edward seemed to remember that it was actually his job to put it on, and he took it out and clumsily tied it to her left wrist. It was still in a cast, unfortunately, but at least her fingers were now free, and her new cast was much slimmer and lighter so the ribbons went around it easily.

She noticed Edward’s fingers seemed to be shaking while he fumbled with her ribbons, and she remembered him having a rather bad reaction to her flashing her wrist once, so she tried to discreetly step back to give him some space as he finished tying. He noticed, flushed, and then looked at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, then,” said Charlie from the side. “I guess it’s time for pictures.” He smiled at her. “Your mom would never forgive me if I didn’t send her one.”

Jasper had brought along a large, rather impressive-looking digital camera, and after giving Charlie a quick course in how to use it, he’d settled in as cameraman. Rosalie had directed most of the posing, with everyone following gamely along. There were pictures of just the girls, pictures of just the guys, pictures of all the couples, and of course a big group photo.

As Bella stood next to Edward, trying to keep her smile frozen for their picture, she muttered to him out of the side of her mouth, “Will you guys actually show up in these?” and he’d snorted, and she looked up at him with a grin to find him smiling down at her as the shutter went off.

“You moved,” Charlie complained, and they’d posed themselves properly again.

Jasper had flipped through them all afterwards, so they could see themselves: his solemn pose with his hand tucked in his coat and Alice clinging excitedly to his arm, the one where Emmett caught Rosalie up in a laughing dip, the girls scrunched close together and making faces at the camera, and—

“Oh, that’s a good one!” exclaimed Alice, pointing at the one where Charlie had caught Bella and Edward just smiling at each other, her eyes sparkling and his expression undeniably fond.

Bella wondered if Alice would be able to See it and dodge before Bella kicked her in the shin.

Thankfully it was getting late and was time to go. It was a mild evening, and Bella just wore the sparkly black wrap that Alice had brought for her to borrow. Charlie pulled her aside briefly. “Now, you have a good time, Bella,” he said, and coughed slightly. “I know you won’t do anything crazy.”

“Definitely not,” she said.

“If he lays a finger on you, you stab him.”

“Dad!”

Bella barely managed not to hide her face in mortification—in no small part because she knew that Edward could hear him perfectly well from across the room, as evidenced by his hunched posture.

“Just looking out for my girl,” Charlie said, and then took her arm to lead her back over to Edward, who suddenly stood at attention. “This shindig is over at eleven—I expect her back by 11:30, young man,” he said seriously. “And if she’s not—the cops’ll be after you.”

“Yes, sir, Chief Swan,” he said, his back ramrod-straight.

Charlie gave him the stink-eye for a moment longer, and then leaned down to kiss Bella’s forehead. “Have fun, Bells,” he said.

They all said goodbye to Charlie and trooped out to the driveway, which was filled up with three of the Cullen cars. Alice’s Beetle was there, and the Volvo they took to school—and apparently, Emmett and Rosalie had finished the work he’d mentioned, because he’d come to pick up her in that gorgeous old Model B that Bella had spotted in the garage before. She paused to admire it, but then Edward was swinging the passengers’ side of the SUV open and offering her a hand in.

Charlie watched them all from the house, silhouetted in the doorway—and carrying his shotgun again, she saw with fond exasperation, and she shook her head as she took Edward’s hand to hoist herself in.

Once she was seated, he went to his own side—he had to brace himself for a moment, and he did crack his window, to Bella’s embarrassment, but he seemed a bit more at ease than the last time she’d ridden in a car with him. His smile was barely strained at all when he asked, “Ready?”

“Mmhmm,” she said, and then heard a loud AAOOGAH-horn blare from behind them as Emmett rolled out of the driveway, and she laughed.

And Edward smiled too, and said, “Okay—let’s go.”

The parking lot was already full, a long line at the doors by the time they arrived. The prom committee had been hard at work; the hallway leading to the cafeteria where they were serving dinner had been filled with decorations to the point of making a long tunnel leading the way, softening and disguising the school hallway with gauze and balloons and fake topiaries along a dark blue carpet.

The line moved at a decent pace, and it wasn’t long before Edward was presenting their tickets at the gate and then ushering her to a seat at their table. Rather to her amusement, before he could, Bella had been recruited to remove the large bowl of white roses in the middle and stash it to the side on another table.

“Does this make me Renfield?” she joked, which only made Edward get a pinched look, although she at least got a loud laugh from Emmett for her efforts.

There was a lot of milling around going on—Angela made a beeline for her, squealing over her dress, and Bella did her best to respond in kind. Angela looked great in a soft yellow number; meanwhile, Ben had gone for the full seventies look in powder blue with a ruffled shirtfront and top hat, and was so confident in his deliberate ridiculousness that he totally pulled it off. Angela seemed to find it hilarious, at least.

Then Jessica had been waved over, dragging a contented-looking Mike after her, and more squealing had commenced, and again when Eric appeared.

She bid them all farewell when dinner was announced, and once again found herself in the awkward position of being the only person at her table really eating. All the Cullens had plates, of course, and nibbled as they usually did in public, but Bella was hyperaware of it now.

She had the chicken, but discovered that Emmett had ordered everyone else the vegetarian, which made her snort.

Alice dominated the conversation at the table, for the most part, bouncing in her seat and exclaiming in excitement over the decorations, the dresses, and what music they were going to play.

She was adamant that they were going to dance to “Thriller.”

She’d first brought it up back on the weekend before prom, after they got back to Forks after their fabric and shoe-shopping trip to PA. She’d been reeling off all the music she wanted the DJ to play, when Rosalie had rather sourly interrupted her and told her that, “Alice, this isn’t 1985; they aren’t going to play Dead or Alive.”

“I can request songs!”

“But not all of them,” Edward pointed out from where he was sitting on the couch, one slim finger tucked into his place in his book. A week at school after his suggestion that he and Bella attend prom together had helped to smooth out much of the lingering awkwardness between them.

“But I can still ask for some!” Alice had insisted, and then loudly pointed out that if they’d just let her go to prom back when she’d first wanted to, they would have played all her favorite songs and she wouldn’t have had to ask.

“Alice, you were still trying to talk to people nose-to-nose,” said Jasper, gently amused.

Alice huffed but otherwise elected to ignore this, and had just said that she was still going to request at least some songs. And then she tilted her head a little, looking in the distance, and then squealed and said, “And someone else will request ‘Thriller’!”

“Absolutely not,” said Rose immediately.

“No! They will! And we will dance! All of us!”

There had been some back-and-forth on this, Rose sounding a bit testy and Alice mulish, until Alice just stopped trying to convince her and instead bounded over to Bella and told her that she would teach her the dance.

“Alice,” Edward admonished. “Bella’s still injured. You can’t make her dance now.”

He sounded altogether too pleased by this assessment, so it was with a bit of satisfaction that Bella said, “Actually, I’ve been dancing at home lately, to work it out. And I already know ‘Thriller’.”

Edward gave her a betrayed look over Alice’s delighted clapping, and then she’d dragged her into the dining room to show her.

Rose was still refusing to participate, with Edward’s silence seeming to be in agreement, but there was sort of an air of tacit resignation among the group now that Alice was going on about it again. After all—Alice would know.

Bella couldn’t help but notice that Edward’s silence was a bit heavier than usual this evening. Jasper too, although he was usually quiet. Alice was in transports, naturally, and Rose seemed quite satisfied in spending her time rather nastily criticizing everything while Emmett listened indulgently, but Jasper didn’t even have his usual quiet smiles for Alice, and Edward seemed particularly interested in shredding everything on his plate between fake bites.

Bella wondered if the crowds tonight were making them uncomfortable for some reason. She was a bit relieved when dinner was ended and there was a call for everyone to move towards the gym.

Edward was there immediately to pull out her chair and help her into her wrap, and then walked alongside her to the outside cafeteria doors. In anticipation of the weather, the carpeted walkway leading from the cafeteria to the gym had been covered with a line of awnings, but the evening was dry and mostly clear as they made their way to the gym.

Once inside, even Bella could admit that they’d done a good job.

Fluffy lighted clouds hung from the ceiling, along with long swags of white gauze and ropes of white lights leading to the white columns that lined the room and down to the floor. Clear and white balloons were everywhere, in strings from the ceiling and all over the floor, bouncing through the fog spilling from the machine in the corner, and a big silver moon hung above them, along with lots of dangling silver stars. The stage had been split in two, one side for a DJ and the other with a big background of a long staircase leading into the clouds for photos. A dancefloor was set up in the middle, surrounded by small, white-draped tables for seating and longer ones to the side with punch and desserts.

Bella once again secured them a rose-free table, and then Jasper and Edward sat down just before the dancing started. But once it did, with the thumping bass of “Hollaback Girl,” she was seized by Alice, and she along with Rosalie was dragged out to the dancefloor. She caught Rose’s eye, got an extravagant eyeroll, and she laughed and went along with it.

For the next song, Angela, Jessica, and Eric had joined their little girls’ dance, which thrilled Alice. She managed to recruit a few more stag partygoers for the next dance, allowing Bella to escape to the table for a moment. Rose followed, but had been quickly scooped up by Emmett and led back to the floor.

Edward had solicitously fetched Bella a glass of punch and a lemon bar while she rested. When Emmett, Rosalie, and Alice reappeared, with the latter demanding that Bella come back to the gaggle of girls on the dancefloor, she told him, “You know, you can dance too.”

He squirmed a little in his seat and said that no, he didn’t feel right dancing with girls, she knew that, so she just tossed out that he could dance with Eric then.

His face went rather red, but he just scowled at the table and muttered, “He prefers Emmett.”

She left the table with Alice and Rosalie on a wave of giggles, and then she nearly lost it when, while the three of them were on the dance floor, Emmett suddenly appeared, and sure enough, he was dancing with a rather smitten-looking Eric.

They all sat the next one out, listening to Alice chattering happily, when suddenly Bella heard through the speakers a familiar door-creaking intro.

Alice almost leapt right out of her seat. “I told you!” she crowed, as the opening riff of "Thriller" started up and people entered and left the dancefloor on a crest of hooting and cheering.

Rosalie got a pinched look on her face, and Edward actually facepalmed, while Emmett just shouted with laughter.

“Oh, come on!” Alice whined. “Please—you all have to dance with me!”

“Alice—we’ll be making a spectacle of ourselves!” Edward said, sounding pained.

“Hey, I’m game,” Emmett said. He nudged Rose. “Come on—don’t tell me you don’t like being a ‘spectacle’ now and again.”

She gave him a look. “And what do I get out of it?” she wanted to know, prompting Emmett to leer at her, making Bella giggle while Edward just looked disgusted.

Alice turned her big, pleading eyes on Bella. “You’ll come too, right?” she begged.

The prospect was embarrassing, having everyone watching them, but it was kind of exciting too, so Bella shrugged, hoping her cheeks weren’t too red, and said, “Sure, Alice.”

Alice bounced in her chair and then rounded on Edward. “That means you have to come too!” she informed him.

“Yeah, Ed—you’re not gonna make your date dance alone, are you?” Emmett challenged.

Bella turned to Edward; he had that deer-in-the headlights look of his, and she kindly offered him an out. “You don’t have to—”

“I will.” He cut her off with his immediate agreement, and then flushed a little and looked away, but Bella had no time to think about it as Alice was immediately ordering everyone into their places.

Bella could only snicker a little to herself as they all marched out onto the dancefloor and a path naturally cleared in front of them through the fog; she barely even noticed it anymore, that undercurrent of menace that surrounded the Cullens, but it made it utterly perfect as the floor cleared for them as they all shambled deliberately out in formation, first Jasper and Emmett and Edward, and then Rose and Bella behind them, and then Alice, who whirled around when the chorus started, and Bella almost couldn’t believe her eyes when she looked behind her and saw Edward doing the steps perfectly, and a great cheer went up from all the surrounding students as they danced to “Thriller.”

By the second round of the chorus, a bunch of students had run up to join them, and Bella found herself in line with Jessica as she raised her zombie hands, and with Ben and Eric behind her next to Edward, as Alice led them all as a perfect tiny MJ.

Another huge cheer went up as they finished, holding their snarling poses during all the camera flashes, and Bella felt stupidly exhilarated, even more so when she looked back and found Edward watching her with a flushed and happy look on his face.

She flopped down at their table, a bit out of breath and her right leg starting to ache. Sitting out the next one seemed like a welcome prospect. Taking a drink of her punch and fanning her face, she asked, “So—that was actually fun, yeah?”

Edward gave her a small smile. “I…yeah, it was,” he said.

“Come on—it wasn’t that awful,” she said.

His smiled widened. “No—and Alice is happy.”

Well—that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Bella just mmmed in agreement, going back to watching the dancers. Edward then haltingly told her that the photographer had a lull, and so if she wanted, they could go get a proper prom picture.

She didn’t care much, but she knew Renée did, so she agreed, and they went up to the stage entrance, and Edward paid their fee and they posed in front of the Cloud Nine backdrop. They got to pick out their favorite photos afterwards, and they found one they both liked, but Bella couldn’t help but think that the professional one didn’t look nearly as good as their little accidental one back at her house.

When they got back to their table, a new song was just starting, and Tyler appeared out of thin air.

“Hey, Bella!” he said. “‘Thriller’—that was awesome!”

She flushed. “Well, I kind of have a thing for Eighties music,” she demurred.

“Still awesome,” he told her, and then waggled his eyebrows. “Think I can I get my dance?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. She turned to Edward, who was scowling ferociously at the table. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, making him jump a little, but then he just gave her a wan smile and told her to go enjoy herself.

It was “You and Me” playing, a thankfully slower song, as her leg was still twinging, but she blushed when they got to the dancefloor and Tyler pulled her in close. “You look amazing,” he told her, and her blushing only intensified.

“Thanks,” she said, a bit bashful. “You don’t clean up too bad yourself.”

“Seriously—Cullen’s crazy for letting you dance with everyone else but him.”

She snorted. Edward was still ensconced at their table with Jasper, the two of them looking excessively dour among all the happy prom-goers. “Well—this really isn’t his scene,” she said. “He was just getting left out, since all his family is here. So we came together so he could come too.”

“I wouldn’t have if you were here with me.”

She blushed again, giving him a look under her lashes. “Careful—I have a date,” she joked.

“Just a friend,” he retorted.

Her cheeks heated, and she didn’t have a response, so just settled for swaying to the music. Tyler was taller than her, his shoulders broad, and his hands were very warm at her waist.

She was half-sorry, half-relieved when the song ended, and she pulled back to cheer with the rest of the students. Before the DJ could start a new one, Bella heard a familiar squeal, and saw Alice go shooting off towards their table, and then an unmistakable synth riff started.

“Oh—looks like Alice got a request,” she said to Tyler, as Cyndi Lauper started singing about lying in bed and the ticking clock.

He listened for a bit. “Another Eighties girl?” he teased.

She snickered. “Oh, yeah,” she said.

“Excuse me.”

They both jumped, Bella pressing a hand to her front, and Tyler whirling around and straightening where he stood.

Edward was standing there—looming, almost—the scowl he’d been wearing for a good chunk of the evening back on his face. “May I cut in?” he asked stiffly, although it didn’t particularly sound like a request to Bella’s ears.

Tyler shook himself. “Oh—yeah,” he said. “You’re her date, after all.”

“Quite,” said Edward curtly.

“Thanks, Bella,” Tyler said to her, smiling as he turned back to her. “I meant it—you look gorgeous.”

She pinked and said thank you, and then Tyler took himself off, Edward glaring at his retreating back.

Edward just stood there glowering for so long, that after a moment, Bella said, “You—you don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.”

He looked startled, but then said “No, I—I do, I—do you want to?”

She bit her lip. “Well, sure—I love this song. But only if you really want to.”

“Yes, I—yes.”

There was a bit of an awkward shuffle as Bella tried to get her hands on his shoulders, and he stiffly put his hands on her waist, but they managed something, standing a ways apart, and Bella asked, “Is this okay?”

Edward’s mouth was tight, but he nodded, and she relaxed a little, allowing herself to sway to the music.

It was hard to look at Edward, though, particularly since he wasn’t really looking at her, so Bella found herself glancing around the dancefloor. No one seemed to particularly mind another throwback song, and there were plenty of couples all wrapped up in each other—including Rosalie and Emmett, she noticed, who were twirling slowly on the dancefloor in an attitude much like they had been back in March when they were listening to “Moonlight Serenade.”

Jasper was also on the dancefloor, she realized, although he was standing a much more respectable distance away from Alice, but his face was again surprisingly soft as she chattered up at him.

Bella shrugged to herself internally. It still seemed weird to her, that the two of them were married, but every now and again, she would catch a glimpse of that look on Jasper’s face, and, well—maybe it wasn’t quite so weird after all.

Edward, on the other hand, looked like he was lining up for a firing squad, and her heart sank a bit.

“I—I’m sorry you’re not having fun,” she said.

He jumped. “No, I—I am!” he hastily assured her, his fingers flexing on her waist, and then flushed at her skeptical look. “I just—there’s a lot going on, and I—I’m just thinking.”

Bella eyed him, and then finally gave voice to the disquiet that had been gnawing at her since yesterday. Feeling a bit daring, she moved forward just a bit so she could slide her hands from his shoulders to his neck, and found the hair at his nape, rubbing a little there as he so often did himself. “Did something happen on Friday?”

He had actually seemed to relax under her touch, but at her words he jolted again, and then grimaced, which was all the confirmation she needed.

Everything had been perfectly normal in the weeks since her kidnapping, all her free time taken up with either homework or prom preparations. But then, the Friday before prom, Bella had been surprised to find every one of the Cullens absent from school.

Earlier in the week she had been informed by Rosalie that they were all going to do their nails that evening, and sure enough, she and Alice had shown up after Bella and Charlie had already had dinner, but any questions about where they had been that day had been evaded or outright ignored, and Bella had eventually just quietly submitted to having her fingers and toes given French tips.

But now, with Edward and Jasper being so quiet, and Edward starting to fidget when she asked him—well. “Did—did something happen?” she asked again quietly.

Edward let out an explosive sigh. “We—yeah,” he said heavily. “Something did.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

He screwed up his face. “Not—not here.”

“Time After Time” had ended, and a newer pop tune that Bella only vaguely recognized had started. Everyone on the floor had cheered, but she and Edward were quiet, standing next to each other, their arms dropping back to their sides. “Do you—do you want to leave?” she asked.

He started, and then looked anxious. “I—if you’re having fun—I won’t leave until you want to—”

“It’s okay,” she told him. She’d done more than her share of dancing, but now she was hot and sweaty, and her leg was definitely starting to hurt. “I think I’m probably done for the night, if you are—but I can stay if you want to,” she hasted to reassure him when he started to look alarmed. “But I—I think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”

“No, I—I don’t mind leaving,” he said. It sounded like he was trying and failing to hide the relief in his voice. “Just—just so long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, I am,” she said, and he gave her a tentative smile, and then she made her way back to their table with Edward following along in her wake.

Jasper was already seated again, benevolently watching Alice as she danced the Charleston in the middle of a group of boys. Edward murmured something to him that Bella couldn’t quite catch as she gathered up her purse and borrowed wrap, and as she tossed back a couple of painkillers with the last of the punch in her cup, she saw Jasper’s mouth tighten, but he nodded. Then Edward was at her elbow, formally offering her his arm, and she took it gratefully. She had been leaving her crutch at home lately, but after so much dancing tonight, she was starting to miss it, and Edward’s steady arm was much appreciated as he walked her out of the gym and towards the Volvo, limping slightly.

She stopped by the car door. “Um,” she started. “Where—where can we talk about it?”

Edward bit his lip and looked to the side. “Well, we—we can go back to our house,” he offered after a moment. “Carlisle’s on shift, but I think Esme should be home.” He stopped, and then suddenly brightened. “Or I could—we could go to my place in the forest,” he said.

“Your—your thinking spot?”

“Yeah—there’s room for two there,” he said, staring to sound excited. “It’s beautiful out there—I’d love to show it to you. I’ve built a platform up in the trees—it’s safe there, and quiet, and the view there is amazing—if you want,” he added, suddenly diffident, and Bella bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Sure, Edward,” she said, managing to keep her voice steady. “I’d love to ditch prom so you can show me your treehouse.”

Edward stilled, and even in the dim light from the school and the moon behind an errant cloud, she saw him flush darkly, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m just teasing,” she said. “Sure—I’d like to see your spot.”

“It’s not a treehouse,” he muttered petulantly, and she barely held back another snigger.

“Sure—and they’re not dolls, they’re action figures.”

He glared at her, and she couldn't help but laugh when he huffily informed her that he didn’t have any action figures, but that Emmett did collect comic books.

He finally smiled then as she laughed, albeit a touch ruefully, and then he opened her door and helped her into her seat. She couldn’t help but comment when he braced himself to sit in the car next to her, on how he seemed better at that than he had before.

He was still facing away, the door open, but he said, “Well, I—after—after what happened, when you—when you were bleeding—just sitting next to you is nothing at all.” And he looked back at her with a crooked smile, and she flushed.

He closed he car door, and then dared to ask her if she’d like some music, and she, equally daring, asked if he had any Debussy, and he did, so the ride east out to the Cullen house had been filled with soft piano.

Once they’d arrived, Edward had pulled under the carport, but they hadn’t gone inside. Instead, he’d taken her out to the garage where he’d loaded her up Emmett’s Jeep, the one that had taken her to the hospital. “It’s not really on a road,” he said, “but I had to get my building supplies out there, so we can get most of the way there by car. We’ll just have to off-road a bit.”

He wasn’t kidding; there was a sort of dirt track access road on the back of the Cullen property for part of the way, but that eventually ended and she found herself being bounced through the trees as they drove.

“We’re right up against the back of Olympic National,” Edward told her as they jostled along. “There’s a ridge here, at the edge of the property, and the valley leads down into the park.”

She was grateful when he finally stopped in a small clearing, except when he helped her down from the Jeep there was still a bit of a walk. Edward offered her his arm the whole way, and didn’t make a peep about her slow pace. Bella was just glad that she’d insisted on flats, although they were still new shoes and were starting to bite into her heels a little.

Eventually Edward stopped, right at the foot of an enormous old Douglas fir. “Here it is,” he said, sounding proud as he slapped the trunk.

Bella peered up into the branches; she couldn’t see a thing. “Is it—is it up there?”

“Yeah,” said Edward. “It’s the best view for miles.”

There was no ladder, or anything, and the tree was clearly at least a hundred feet tall, if not twice that. “Um, Edward—can I get up there?”

“Of course,” he said, unconcerned. “I put in a lift so I could get all my boards and everything up when I was building. I hauled loads that had to be a couple hundred pounds all the time—I can bring you up no problem.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said flatly.

He looked at her, confused, and then his mouth fell open in horror. “What—no!” And she couldn’t help herself—she burst into giggles at Edward’s rushed babbling that, no, he hadn’t meant anything like that, he was so sorry, he just meant she didn’t have to climb.

She eventually calmed herself enough to say, “Edward—it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

His panicked blathering subsided into shuffling silence, and then he hurriedly told her to wait right there and he’d be right back, then he took a deep breath and just sprang into the tree.

She couldn’t help her tiny gasp; she’d seen Alice and Emmett goofing off, playing with their impossible vampire strength and agility, but that was the first time she’d seen Edward do it, leaping into the tree and shimmying up the trunk effortlessly until he was hidden by the branches.

Bella stood below, waiting, until there was a sudden rushing noise from above, and a platform suspended on a rope fell into view. It stopped just above the ground, and she approached it cautiously, and was about to call up to Edward when he suddenly dropped down from above her, pine needles in his hair and sticking to his shoulders.

“Here it is,” he said needlessly, and then took her hand and guided her to sit; the platform was suspended on all corners by the rope that disappeared into the limbs above her, and she scooted back to sit firmly on it, tugging off her sandals and holding them by the straps in her right hand as she gripped the ropes as Edward directed.

Then he was off again, and Bella was left alone to sit in the darkness on the forest floor as he scrabbled up the tree, until suddenly the platform lurched beneath her, and she slowly began to rise from the ground, moving steadily up into the treetops.

She watched the branches moving by her, some part of her ready to have to duck or move one out of the way, but her entire trip up was steady and smooth and clear, no limbs or sticks in the way at all, and as she peered up through the foliage above her, she spotted a structure up in the branches, and as she neared, it resolved into a neat covered platform of wooden planks.

And then she was all the way up, and Edward was there, tying off the rope leading from the block and tackle above her, and then he was pulling the platform to the side, swinging it over so she could step down on to the solid floor beneath her, his hands cool and steady in her own.

He’d been right—it really wasn’t fair to call this a treehouse. It was a sturdy, level floor set into a fork between three large branches, and there were walls on three sides, and an angled roof above that left more than enough room to stand under. One wall had shelves built into it, and the others had neat windows with sills, and there were curtains covering both of them, as well as a large, door-sized gap in the third one. There was well-stuffed deck chair tucked back in one corner, and a camp lantern on the shelf, and if Bella had seen a picture of the place, she’d have thought it was a room of a tiny cabin, not up in a tree.

She told him so, earnestly saying that, “This is really nice,” and he flushed a little, and then guided her to sit down in the chair. She dropped her sandals on the floor, pulling her wrap around her bare shoulders.

They sat in silence for a moment, Bella looking all around her at Edward’s work, and Edward looking mostly at her, before she finally felt she had to break the comfortable silence by asking, “So—what happened on Friday?”

Edward stiffened, and turned away from her, before suddenly sitting abruptly down on the floor, his long legs folding beneath him. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, and then said lowly, “We had a visit from the Imperial governor.”

Bella sucked in a sharp breath, rearing back in her seat. “What happened—did they—are you—?”

“Everything is fine,” he hastened to assure her. He blew out a breath. “Governor Sasaki—one of his underlings is a Tracker, and she—James was not careful,” he said. “They’d apparently been looking for him for a while for some of the things he’d been doing in Seattle—and his stunt in Port Angeles,” he added grimly. “His tracker had been on him for a few weeks to bring him in, but—but then everything happened, and she only found him—after. But that also meant that she found us.”

He looked up and saw Bella’s wide eyes, and quickly continued, telling her that, “She doesn’t know anything about you. But when she found where we’d…disposed of James, it was enough to let her track us, and she found us, and she reported back to her boss.” He looked away, his jaw tight. “Sasaki showed up at our house late on Thursday night.”

Bella’s hands were knotting tightly in her skirt; dimly, she thought to herself that Rosalie would yell at her for it. “Are you—are you in trouble?” she managed to ask.

Edward exhaled slowly. “Not…exactly,” he said, and before Bella could demand exactly what that meant, he continued. “I think—Carlisle mentioned that we…aren’t very highly thought of? For the way we eat?” At her nod, she continued. “Well—we still aren’t. What we did—taking care of James—there is no law against that, but…” He raked a hand through his hair, freeing it from any remaining semblance of order. “Sasaki was not impressed by our lifestyle—or the fact that such a large group of vampires had set up permanent residence on his turf without him knowing about it. We weren’t doing anything that he could punish us for outright, and we tried to tell him that we weren’t any kind of threat to his position, but…he’s definitely watching us now.”

Bella squirmed in her seat, and then froze when she remembered Jasper’s somber behavior tonight too, and quickly asked, “Jasper—are you in any trouble over—”

But Edward was shaking his head. “Alice and I knew that Sasaki was coming in plenty of time. Jasper was far away before he got here.”

Bella let out the breath that she’d been holding. She was quiet for a moment, before she said, “I—I’m sorry that I got you all in trouble—”

“No!” Edward leapt off of the ground, coming to crouch in front of her, taking her hands in his own. “No, Bella—you didn’t do anything,” he said earnestly. “Carlisle was already on their radar from years ago—and with the way we live—it was only a matter of time before they found us again.”

She looked down, her throat tight despite his words, and saw their hands in her lap; her own small and stubby-fingered, and despite being fair, looking almost brown in the dark with his long white fingers covering her hers. His thumb moved, stroking lightly across her own.

She shivered, drawing her wrap around herself, and then Edward was suddenly jumping to his feet, stripping off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Sorry,” he said, smiling crookedly. “I always come out here by myself—I forget that it would be a bit chilly for—for you.” He stood back, tugging at his tie for a moment before loosening it and yanking off of his neck all together, balling it up and stuffing it in his trouser pockets. He rubbed a hand over his face before popping the buttons on his collar, then coughed a little and said, “I’m sorry to be such a downer.”

“No, I—I did ask,” she reminded him.

“Still, though—it’s prom night. And anyway, I promised you a view.” He held out his hand, and Bella took it, allowing him to tug her to her feet. He led her across the floor to the covered doorway, and then he quickly drew the curtains back.

Bella gasped.

The tree was perched high up on the edge of a ridge, just like he’d said, towering above its neighbors and offering a clear view to the east. Down beneath them the valley swooped below toward the horizon, the trees painted blue and silver in the soft light of the moon. Above them the sky glittered with stars.

“What did I tell you?” Edward grinned, gripping a branch above him and leaning out over the edge of the platform, his hair tousled slightly by the breeze. The darkness softened his hard angles, his eyes bright and his smile sweet, and in the gentle starlight he almost seemed to glow.

Bella bit her lip, looking away in chagrin. He really was dazzling, and it wasn’t fair.

She felt a hand on her elbow, and looked up, and Edward gently tugged her to the side. The floor extended out past the door here along the large bough that supported it, the roof overhang acting almost as a small porch, and he’d built a small bench against the wall, where he guided her to sit down, dropping down next to her, rubbing his neck a little.

She sighed, pulling Edward’s suit jacket around her to ward off the slight chill outside of the protection of the walls, and then leaned gratefully into the tentative arm that was wrapping around her shoulders—until suddenly realizing that there wasn’t much point to that, since he wasn’t really warm, unless—

…oh.

Her heart suddenly thudding into overdrive, made all the more embarrassing because she was pretty sure he could tell, she coughed and said, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” And she looked at him and found him looking back, not at the view at all, and her face heated and she looked away.

He did too, finally, gazing out at the sweeping vista below them. “I come out here a lot,” he said after a brief silence. “What Emmett said—I do need some space to think, sometimes—to be alone in my own head.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “I—I’ve never really come out here with anyone else before.”

Bella’s insides erupted into a swarm of moths, their feathery wings beating all around under her ribcage. “Well, now—now I feel like I’m intruding—”

“No—that’s just it,” he said, his arm suddenly gone, but then his hands were wrapped around hers again as he turned to look at her, his eyes soft. “I can’t come out here with anyone else—there’s no one I could bring out here without having to hear their thoughts too—except you.”

She felt her lip start to tremble as his eyes did a slow dip down to her mouth, before flicking back up to her eyes. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met,” he said softly, “who I can sit with and be alone in my own head…but still be with you.”

He was so much taller than her, and it seemed in slow motion as his head dipped down, but he hesitated just a moment. “Bella, I—I want to try—can I—”

“Yes.”

And her eyes fluttered closed just as she felt the slightest brush of his mouth against hers.

It only lasted a moment, although his eyes were still closed when he pulled away, and Bella thought she saw the tiniest glimmer of fangs beneath his lips, but then his eyes opened, and they were sparkling, and the biggest, goofiest smile was spreading across his face, and she knew she looked the same way.

“Hi,” she said stupidly.

“Hi,” he agreed, and she giggled, and so did he, just a little, before wrapping his arm around her again.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to cool her cheek, and forced her voice into lightness when she said, “I think I’m supposed to stab you now.”

He let out one of those sharp surprised laughs of his, and she giggled too, but he stilled quickly and didn’t answer. She heard him take a breath, looking to the side, and then felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve never had a sweetheart before,” he finally said.

She giggled again at his phrasing, but then again, she felt so giddy and silly that she probably would have giggled at anything. “Is that what I am, then?”

“If you’ll have me.”

She tipped her head back, to see Edward looking at her with that same shy hopefulness that she’d seen in his eyes before, and she said, “I think I already do.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah—you really do.”

And he leaned down again, and his cool lips once more met hers in a kiss.