A/N: Twilight is Meyer's. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks for reading, and for reviewing.

EPOV

Emmett tested the air like a bloodhound. We hadn't even made it through the gate yet, and he already had located the scent of his craving. "Smell that, man," he said reverently. "Heaven is in there. It's calling."

Right. Like anyone could find heaven at a Renaissance Festival in a Washington State downpour. "Your heaven doesn't smell anything like mine," I commented as we stepped into the fairgrounds.

"You are way too picky, Edward," Emmett informed me.

"Because my heaven isn't based in grease?" I considered. "Well, that explains why you like Rosalie's work jeans."

"Don't distract me, man," he warned.

I shook my head and glanced out from under my umbrella. The shops lining the entrance of the festival mostly sold clothing and trinkets. They led in to where the grounds opened up into a central food court. Turkey central. I could hear Emmett's hum of anticipation as his gaze landed on the mother lode.

I didn't think I wanted to see the destruction that was about to happen. And I couldn't stand the smell from here, so there was no way I was going into the heart of that. "I'm not stopping you. Go get your turkey leg."

Emmett stared at me in disbelief from under his own umbrella. "You seriously aren't getting one?"

His inability to fathom anyone being repulsed by the fair food was amazing. He really couldn't grasp it. "No. I'm not."

"Dude, you don't know what you're missing."

"I think I do." I nodded toward where the fair curved to the right out of the food court. "Look, I'm heading that way. Come find me when you're done."

"Sure," Emmett said. He already had dismissed me and was focused on his target. I think he was humming the Mission Impossible theme when he walked away.

I shook my head and started in the opposite direction. The rain had turned a lot of the ground to mud, so I stuck close to the shops that lined the perimeter of the fair. They were fashioned after Renaissance-era buildings and ranged from clothing shops to souvenir stands to game booths. Each had at least one worker speaking to the customers in Renaissance phrases. I was only a third of the way down the right side of the fair when I had heard more "Good days" than I could stand.

In addition to their speech, all the employees were dressed in period clothing – tunics and skirts and boots – and none carried an umbrella. Apparently they weren't allowed to stay dry unless they were lucky enough to work in a shop with a roof. The ones I passed who were paid to wander the grounds were completely soaked. But they didn't seem to mind. I assumed that they were hired for their cheerful attitudes anyway, and they had come into the job knowing that they generally would be walking in the rain all day. It amazed me how the people in this area could ignore the constant precipitation.

The rain was good for one thing, though. The farther I got from the food court, the cleaner the damp air became. I still caught occasional heavy scents when I passed incense shops or booths with a lot of leatherwork, but at least the grease was behind me.

Mostly.

I was coming upon another grouping of food booths. This section seemed much smaller than the food court where I'd left Emmett, and I hadn't caught the aroma of frying meat yet, but since turkey legs were what the festival was known for… I slowed in preparation to turn back. Emmett definitely would want to hit the food booths when he caught up with me, and I didn't really want to walk through the area twice.

The scent hit me before I could turn.

I froze. My entire body locked down. I knew that smell.

Freesia. And strawberries. In the rain.

I lifted my head and breathed deeply. There was no mistaking it. She was here.

I scanned the booths around me, looking for long dark hair. I found her a few feet ahead of me, picking arrows out of the mud. For a moment I simply watched her. I couldn't believe she was here.

She worked the festival's archery booth. She was wearing Renaissance garb like the rest of the fair workers. But even across the distance, hers looked different somehow. More… fitted. Made for her. Her deep blue ankle-length skirt hugged her slender waist. Her shirt was a few shades off from white. Over it was one of those lace-up vests the women wore, a lighter blue than the skirt with some vine pattern of darker blue sewn into it. It was a modest costume, but… not. It showed hardly any skin – unlike many of the breast-baring outfits I'd passed on my way here – but the way it fit her… especially the way the material clung to her in the rain…

Damn.

I had to get closer.

As I approached her back, more things came into focus. She was wearing brown boots under her skirt. Her damp, dark brown hair hung nearly to her waist. It looked ridiculously thick. The front part was tied back into a loose ponytail, but the rest draped over her shoulders and down her back. It curled slightly in the rain.

I really wanted to touch it.

I frowned. The urge came from nowhere. But it was strong. My fingers itched to weave through this girl's hair, and I hadn't even met her yet. Hadn't even seen her face yet.

But I was about to remedy that. Now.

Her pale white hand was just reaching out for an arrow in a deep pool of mud when I got to her. I bent to grab the arrow before she had to dig in the muck. She pulled back in surprise. I stood with her and looked her in the eye.

Finally.

As she blinked away the water that clung to her lashes, I realized that I owed the rain an apology. It was doing so much for me right then. First her scent, then her clothes, and now her eyes…. There was something about seeing those wide, deep brown eyes under dripping lashes that made me unable to look away. I felt myself smiling as I stared.

And she dropped the arrows she held.

I chuckled and knelt to pick them up for her. She crouched beside me and started collecting them herself. Her movements were fast and jerky. She was embarrassed. And blushing. From the corner of my eye, I could see the red staining her cheeks.

This whole thing reminded me of the first time I'd seen her, when she'd punched the air out of me with her backpack and helped me pick up all Carlisle's paperwork. I wondered absently if this was a habit for her. Although she hadn't blushed beside me at school… and I kind of liked it when she did.

The only thing that pulled me away from the flush on her cheeks was her scent. It hit me hard when she shifted her weight next to me, flowers and berries and rain, and I was lost.

My first mistake.

While I was focused on breathing her in, I picked up an arrow too close to her extended left arm. We both moved at the same time. The point of the arrow stabbed into her forearm.

She swore under her breath and pulled away from me, dropping her arrows again. I let out a rough curse of my own and stood with her. "I'm sorry," I said. My gaze locked on the blood running down her arm and dripping from her wrist and fingers. Shit. "I didn't mean to… I'm so sorry."

Her body stiffened a little, and she looked strangely at me. I wasn't sure what the look meant, but she didn't seem angry. I leaned closer with my umbrella, trying to shield her from the rain. She suddenly turned back to her arm. "It's okay," she said. "Not your fault."

Bells. Her voice was soft and clear and sounded like bells. Her mouth was a little out of proportion – her top lip was more full than her bottom one – and I felt a strange catch in my chest when I watched her speak. I wanted to hear her say more, see her say more, but I had to focus. "It is my fault," I insisted.

At my voice, she seemed to notice that I was standing very close. She looked like she wanted to move away from me. But she didn't. She actually leaned a little closer before frowning slightly. A small crease appeared between her straight brows, and she leaned back. "Really, it's okay," she repeated.

I snorted. Of course it was okay. I only stabbed her with an arrow before I could even introduce myself. And now she was bleeding all over. Brilliant. "I'm going to take care of this," I told her firmly. "Where can we go?"

She glanced at me in surprise. I stared back. "You don't—"

I quickly cut off her protest. She was too forgiving, and there was no way I was going to leave her to take care of herself. "I want to help." I all but shoved my umbrella into her uninjured hand. When she took it, I grabbed the arrows on the ground at her feet and threw them onto the counter of her booth. Then I focused on her again. "Come with me," I requested. I had to blink as rain streamed into my eyes. "Please?"

She stared almost blankly at me. I wondered anxiously if she was going into shock from losing as much blood as she was. But she nodded and took a step to her right.

Then stopped.

I started to protest as she moved to her booth and reached behind the counter. Before I could, she produced a cell phone. "Give me just a second," she said.

She texted someone quickly, somehow managing to keep the blood off her phone and her clothing. I was impressed. It made me wonder how often she got hurt. She returned her phone and turned back to me. "Angela's coming," she told me.

Okay. That was fine. If Angela would hurry up.

Luckily, she did. It only took the other girl, a very tall and slender brunette, a minute to appear. She came from the food booths, holding her skirt out of the mud as she hurried up to us. She didn't even look at me, focusing solely on her friend. "What happened this time?" she asked, worried.

That confirmed my suspicion. This girl was used to getting hurt. And to confirm it further, she simply shrugged in response to Angela's concern. "Just an arrow wound," she said lightly. "I'm going to get cleaned up. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah." The girl turned to me. "First aid is over here."

Familiar with that area, it seemed. I found myself fighting off a grin. Angela looked at me for the first time. Her expression changed, but she quickly rearranged her features and turned back to her friend. "Nice umbrella," she commented in a bland voice.

Those perfectly imbalanced lips twitched slightly. "Thanks," the girl replied. "Be right back."

And she started to walk away. I hurried to keep up. "Want your umbrella back?" she asked as I fell into step beside her.

"No." Although it was a little annoying, I thought. She was almost a foot shorter than I was, and with the umbrella over her head, I couldn't really see her when we walked side by side. I could only catch a glimpse of blue under the cover.

"What are you doing here in a downpour, anyway?" she asked with casual curiosity.

I glanced over at her to see only umbrella. Definitely annoying. "Emmett wanted a turkey leg," I told her with a shrug. I wondered if she would hear the motion in my voice, since it was a wasted visual.

I figured she could, because I practically could hear her amused grin when she replied simply, "Ah." She didn't say anything more.

We reached the first aid booth quickly. It seemed to be positioned close to the archery stand. I couldn't imagine why.

After procuring the needed supplies and assuring the woman working first aid that I would be able to handle the wound, I led my victim into the adjacent building. It was an open-air food booth with a small sitting area just inside the entrance. The timing was perfect; too early for lunch, so no one was around.

When we stepped inside, the girl closed the umbrella and called a greeting to the single employee, who teased her about her wound until I shot him a glare. He shut up immediately and found something to clean behind the counter.

We took a table in the corner and I began to set up my triage unit. She removed a bracelet from her wounded arm and laid it on the edge of the table, out of my way, then she watched as I worked. I felt like she wanted to protest my ministrations, but she was smart enough not to. Instead, she simply waited and tried not to bleed on anything.

"Okay," I said after a second. "Put your arm up here."

She obligingly stretched her arm out along the tabletop toward me. I tried not to show my disgust as I worked. I didn't want her to think it was aimed at her when it was wholly aimed at myself. Carefully, I cleared away the blood and made sure the wound was clean. She barely moved.

Yeah. She was a klutz, it seemed. Even the sting of the alcohol barely fazed her. She only hissed quietly and balled up her little fist.

The whole time I worked, I was almost painfully aware of her scent. And her skin. When she laid her arm across the table, I took a second to take in the almost translucent look of it. Except for the blood, it was perfect. The blue of her clothing looked incredible against it, creating an amazing contrast. I wanted to touch it.

Which was why I hesitated before I did.

When I dropped my hand to her elbow to position her arm, she reacted more than she did the entire time I cleaned her wound. She jerked a little under my touch. Her big brown eyes lifted quickly to my face, then away. Even with that reaction, I couldn't believe she'd felt what I did.

She couldn't have felt the electric shock when my fingers touched her skin.

I yanked my hand back and gauged her reaction. She didn't look at my face again, and she didn't speak, so I took her elbow again and moved her arm into position. I tried to ignore the buzzing under my fingertips. I tried to focus on my task, and not the skin I was uncovering as I carefully washed away every drop of blood from her arm.

I tried. But I didn't do very well. So I tried to distract myself.

"I thought those arrows wouldn't have sharp points," I commented. "Little kids use them, right? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Clearly." She offered a grin to show she was teasing, then she shrugged. "James likes to make it more 'realistic' for the adults. So half the arrows have sharp points, and the other half are dull. I don't know how those boys got one of the sharp arrows. I keep them under the counter when kids are around."

James must be her boss, I mused. From her tone, she didn't seem to like him very much. And she definitely didn't approve of the danger in which he placed his younger clients. I could see that in her frown, even though I tried not to look up from her arm. She didn't speak again.

"Are you okay?" I asked after a moment.

"Yeah." She took a breath through her mouth and smiled slightly when she caught my expression. "I don't like the smell of blood."

I would have commented, if I hadn't been focused on her parted lips.

She shrugged. "You would think I would be used to it, the way I fall down and run into things. But I can't stand it very well."

Another assurance that she was clumsy. For some reason, it was kind of… charming.

"I really am sorry about this," I told her.

"I told you it's not your fault." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Unless you stabbed me on purpose."

"No," I said, a little too harshly, before I realized that she was smirking. She turned away, still smiling to herself.

I stared at her for a moment, taking in her features. Her chin was narrow, her forehead wide, giving her face a definitive heart shape. Her cheekbones were prominent, and no longer stained red. The hair that curled about her face was a dark mahogany, a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. She had a slight widow's peak that pointed down toward the sudden crease that reappeared between her brows.

At her frown, I quickly looked down and resumed my tending of her wound. I had cleaned it well enough to examine it. The bleeding had almost stopped. It didn't seem like it would need stitches, so I reached for the peroxide and gauze, feeling extremely grateful to Carlisle and all his first aid training.

She watched me dampen a cotton ball. "You're Edward Cullen," she said suddenly.

I cringed internally but didn't look up from the bottle. "Yes." Then I waited, expecting her to either squeal or tell me her name.

She didn't.

I glanced up to find her looking off to the side again. There was no reaction on her face. I had no idea what that meant.

Carefully, I touched the damp cotton to her injury. She reacted, hissing and making a fist, without looking at me. I didn't know whether she was avoiding me or the sight and smell of my ministrations. Sadly, but to the benefit of my attention span, her scent was lost in the stench of alcohol. "Sorry," I apologized again as I gently sanitized the wound.

"S'okay," she mumbled.

I hurried through the painful part and prepared a square of gauze to tape over the damage. When she felt it on her arm, she looked back at me. "Thank you for doing this."

"I couldn't let you bleed to death," I replied. "Besides, Carlisle – my father," I elaborated, although I figured I didn't have to, "would be thrilled to know I was using the skills he beat into my head."

"He'd be proud," she said quietly.

Her tone threw me. I glanced up at her, trying to gauge her expression. She looked a little… sad? I couldn't read her. It was frustrating.

And intriguing.

"Thanks." I smoothed the last piece of tape onto her arm. "I think you're set."

She surveyed her arm. "Best first aid I've had for a while," she said with a slight smile.

"I'll be sure to tell Carlisle," I replied, smiling back. She blinked at me and turned away again. I couldn't understand her reactions. "Hey, can you…" I trailed off, trying to figure out where I was going with this. "Do you have to go back right now? I'd like to get you something to eat. To make sure you're okay. You lost a lot of blood."

To make sure you're okay because you lost a lot of blood? Real smooth, Edward. I internally rolled my eyes. She seemed to agree, judging by the light in her eyes when she looked at me. But… I really was concerned. I tried to figure out why. Besides the obvious fact that I was the one who had tried to kill her.

And I wanted to find out why she seemed so uneasy despite her amusement. She looked like she was ready to bolt. "I think I—," she began.

"Edward!"

My name being bellowed outside interrupted her. I looked away from her to see where Emmett was.

My second mistake.

When I turned back to the table, it was empty. She was gone.

I swore under my breath. I hadn't even heard her get up. How had she gotten away so fast without my noticing? And where the hell had she gone? She wasn't anywhere in sight.

Emmett, however, was. He strolled in with a half-eaten turkey leg in his hand. The sight of it revolted me. It looked raw. He seemed to be enjoying it, though, and took a massive bite as he lowered his umbrella and sank into the girl's empty chair. "Dude," he said around a mouthful of meat. He surveyed me critically. "Did you forget how to use the umbrella?"

I tried not to notice the difference between my current companion and the one who had vanished into thin air. I failed. "Dude. Did you forget how to eat like a human? Wipe the turkey off your face."

Emmett didn't mind my irate tone. He just wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt and offered the turkey leg to me. "Want some?"

"You're disgusting," I informed him. I scanned the room and the area outside again and didn't catch sight of the long brown hair I wanted. "Did you see anyone leave when you got here?"

"Nah." Emmett shrugged as he took another bite. "Wasn't paying attention, though." He looked down at all the items littering the table. I expected a commentary on my playing nursemaid, but instead he asked, "You bought a bracelet? For who?"

I looked down to see the girl's bracelet still at the edge of the table, partially hidden behind the package of gauze. Trying my hardest to hide my smile, I picked up the small circle of silver links. A little brown, wooden wolf charm dangled from one link. Blood marred the charm and the silver. "I didn't buy it," I answered Emmett. I carefully began to clean away the blood with a cotton ball. "She left it when she ran away from you."

"Who?"

I realized that I hadn't gotten her name. "The girl."

"Girl? What girl?" Emmett twisted every direction in his seat to look around. "There was a girl?"

"Emmett. Jesus. You look like an idiot. She's not here anymore." I wiped away the last bit of blood and tossed the cotton ball on top of my pile of medical trash. "She got hurt and I helped her out. She left when you got here."

"Playing doctor, hm? So who is she?"

I ignored the taunt. "I don't know." But I wanted to. And now I had a reason to find her. I palmed her bracelet. "But I know where she works. C'mon."

"She works here?" Emmett stood and picked up his umbrella. "Cool."

I imagined all the free turkey legs dancing through his mind. "Don't scare her, okay?" I threw away all the garbage from our table and grabbed my own umbrella, which the girl had left beside her chair.

"You like her?"

"I don't even know her."

Emmett fell into step with me as I headed toward the girl's booth. "You want to?"

"Emmett. Shut up and eat."

He snickered and resumed eating. The knowing look on his face irritated me. I walked a little faster. When we reached the archery booth, he was a few steps behind.

And the girl wasn't there.

Angela smiled a greeting, then noticed Emmett. Her eyes widened a little at his size, but she quickly smiled at him, too. "Hi."

"Hey. Um…" I didn't know why I felt so awkward. "Where is she?"

Angela looked entirely too innocent. "Who?"

I frowned. "You know who. Your friend. The one who works this booth? The one I stabbed?"

"Oh, right. Her." Angela motioned toward the center of the fairgrounds. "Out there somewhere. I don't know."

Clearly they had had a conversation. And Angela was covering for her friend. I had no idea why. But I knew that I wouldn't get any information out of her. I could see that she was set against even telling me her friend's name, and she was too smart to let me trick her into slipping.

That was okay. I would find her. And I wasn't giving her bracelet to anyone but her. "All right. I just wanted to make sure she made it back to work okay. Thanks, Angela."

Angela smiled brightly. "You're welcome. Fare thee well."

That girl was entirely too cunning. Her eyes were mischievous as she watched us walk away. "That wasn't her," Emmett deduced as he threw away the sad remains of his turkey leg.

"Brilliant, Sherlock. No." I headed for the next booth. Someone in this place would tell me who or where she was.

Or not.

An hour later, I realized that the fair workers were a very protective group. I wasn't sure whether word had spread, or they just reacted with a sort of group instinct to shield in response to someone asking for a coworker's location when she clearly wasn't where she normally worked – a signal she wanted to hide – and when the person asking didn't even know her name. Whatever the reason, it seemed that they all were familiar with the girl, but they weren't inclined to release her name or her current location. They wanted to let her disappear. And the girl was damn good at hiding. I wandered the entire perimeter and never caught a glimpse of her.

Finally I decided that it was time to give up. It was still raining, and even the workers were starting to hide out more inside the booths. Obviously none of them was going to tell me anything about the girl. And Emmett was starting to wander into every weapons shop we passed. I drew the line when he looked at me and said, "Dude. I want a sword."

I bought him another turkey leg to distract him and we headed out to his Jeep. I kept my hand in my pocket, my fingers looped through the silver links of the girl's bracelet.

I'd be back tomorrow to find her. She couldn't hide from me forever.

Not even with a whole festival to help her.