Chapter Ten: Six Degrees of Separation

EPOV

Six weeks.

I just stare at the man in the white coat with wide, disbelieving eyes. I didn't hear him correctly; I'm sure I didn't. He did not just say what I think he just said. "Six weeks?" I question.

My orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Ian Thomas, nods, and I swear my heart stills.

"No," I say. "No way."

"Edward," my father says, but I shake my head. "Just listen."

"No," I say. "No!"

"Edward," Dr. Thomas says, and I stare at him. "It's going to be six weeks. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but it's important that you do what I say if you want to get healthy within the allocated time."

I'm not listening, and they both know it. I just stare down at my traitorous arm as if I can heal it with the sheer power of will. Six weeks is a long time. Six weeks is six weeks too long. I can't go six weeks without training.

I can't. There's no way.

"Edward?"

I look up at Dr Thomas.

"I am aware that you participate in a rigorous training program." He has no idea. "My job is to get you back to it as soon as possible, but you're going to have to help me help you."

I just continue to stare at him as if he's speaking a foreign language.

"You're lucky," he says. "It's what we call an extra-articular, non-displaced, distal radius fracture."

My father seems to understand what that means, but I just stare blankly at him. Carlisle Cullen was dutifully headed into medicine before his sister brought up the idea of a family law firm. Four years later, Cullen & Associates was fully formed, and now Cullen Novak is a (probably) world-wide and well-known franchise of lawyers, providing some of the best quality legal representation available to the public.

"Basically," Dr. Thomas says, as he shows me an x-ray of my arm, focusing on the area around my wrist. "The fracture doesn't extend into the joint, and your bones have remained in their original positions. As a result, the treatment is not difficult."

I want to roll my eyes, but I don't. Did he not just hear himself? Six weeks is difficult. Doesn't he get it? There has to be something else they can do. There has to be.

"You'll have to wear the cast the entire time," he says, and I just stare. "Every week, you'll come in for an x-ray, and we can assess how the swelling is going down and how the bone is healing. I know how important getting back is to you, and I want to help as much as I can."

I don't believe him.

"Your cast cannot get wet," he says, as if I don't already know. He says lots of other things, but I'm not really listening. My cast can't get wet, which makes swimming rather impossible. It also makes proper hygiene increasingly inconvenient.

Six weeks.

"Do you understand, Edward?"

My father nudges my foot with his own, and I snap to attention. I nod, and I don't miss the look me and Dr. Thomas exchange. I don't want this to be happening. I want to go back to Saturday afternoon when none of this was a problem.

"Come on, Son," my father says, and I stand up immediately, forcing myself not to grimace at the pain of the action. As much as my mind hurts now; my body does too. It's enough to make me feel breathless. I shuffle along behind him as he leads the way out of the orthopedic surgeon's office.

Six weeks.

It's all I can think about as my father drives me home. He tries to talk to me, but I don't say a word back. He casts worried glances at me, and I can feel them burning into my skin. I feel myself caring, but I can't bring myself to say or do anything. When he pulls into the driveway, neither of us moves.

He clears his throat. "Edward, it's going to be fine," he says.

I just look at him. He doesn't know that. He can't know that. Though, I don't tell him that. He kind of looks as devastated as I imagine I do, and I don't have the words to help either of us.

"Edward?"

I shake my head and open the door to climb out.

He isn't staying.

"I'm sorry, Son," he says, but I'm already closing the door. I go inside alone, feeling as down as I can possibly feel right now. The house is quiet, which I appreciate, as I stomp my way up the stairs.

Bella is lying on my bed when I enter my room, and the tension in my muscles seems to dissipate at the mere sight of her. She's on her back, propped up against my pillows, and typing something on her phone, which she sets aside as soon as she spots me, and then gets to her feet.

I must look a sight because she walks straight towards me and wraps me in her arms. I haven't seen her since the night she showed up at the hospital - which feels like forever ago, but is only two nights ago - looking as pretty as ever, eyes full of tears and a reprimand on her lips. As hazy as the memory of that night is, I distinctly remember telling Esme not to call her. I didn't want to ruin her night.

But then, there she was, face splotchy and eyes wide. She wanted to know what happened, but I hadn't been able to tell her. All I remember, even now, was being on my way to the restaurant, and then nothing. I blacked out after the impact, and, when I woke up -

Six weeks.

Bella releases me and looks down at my arm. My cast is green in color, as per Bella's request. She smiles softly at me. "So, do I get to be the first to sign it?"

I'm not really in a good mood, but I nod anyway.

She regards me for a moment before I get a kiss on the cheek, and she's off in search of a Sharpie.

Okay, so, I get kisses now. The first one was when I was in that hospital bed, recovering from my concussion, and now I know what it feels like to have her lips pressed against my skin. It's doing more harm than good, if I'm being honest.

I nod, and gesture towards my desk before I make my way towards my bed. I sit down on the edge of it and do my best to keep my obvious pain off my face. I have a headache, my ribs are aching, and my arm is throbbing. Right now, I'm definitely willing to throw myself a pity party.

Six weeks.

Bella catches me off guard when she's suddenly in front of me, and my flinch gives way to a grimace.

"Can I see?" she asks, dropping to her knees in front of me.

I don't know what she means, but I don't say anything when her fingers move to the hem of my t-shirt. Slowly, carefully, she lifts it up, and I shift my arms out of the way. She sucks in a breath at the first sight of my bruises. I spent an hour studying them this morning, and they do look bad: large and ghastly purple. They hurt as bad as they look.

She rolls my shirt all the way up and tucks the bundle of fabric under my arms. The cold air washes over my skin, but that is nothing compared to the feel of her fingertips. Her hands are warm, and her touch seems to pulsate through my body. She's gentle as her fingers dance over my skin. It should hurt, but it doesn't. Bella would never hurt me.

"Am I hurting you?" she asks unnecessarily, as if she can hear my thoughts.

I shake my head.

Her eyes are serious, and her brow is furrowed. She's thinking something, and I don't want her to. "Could I have lost you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

I want to say 'no,' but the word doesn't come out. I don't know what could have happened.

"Edward?"

I manage to shake my head before I shrug my shoulders.

Her fingers run up my skin, over my shirt, until she reaches my cheek. I have a cut above my eye, and she traces over it with her thumb. Her expression is hard, as if she's thinking about a world where the accident didn't result in just bruises, cuts and a broken arm.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" she asks.

I take a deep, painful breath. She doesn't deserve my silence. Nobody does. Well, nobody but me, I guess.

"Bella," I eventually whisper, and her eyes meet mine. It's more of a whimper, really. I feel broken, but I am so relieved that she is right in front of me. "Thank you for being here."

"Oh, Edward," she says, sounding devastated. "Please don't ever do that to me again."

I just about manage a smile.

She bristles slightly, but her eyes don't stray from mine. This moment right here is important, but I wouldn't be able to say why. She's here, and it means everything. Her eyes are so expressive, and I can see the concern and the relief.

The care.

We both startle when my phone starts to ring, and the spell is broken. It takes me a moment to gather myself before I fish for it in the pocket of my jeans. It's Kate. Of course, it is.

"Umm," I say, clearly struggling. "It's, uh, Kate. I just told her what happened, and I - " I stop, because I don't really know what to say. I don't really feel like talking to Kate about the accident, and I sure as hell don't want to hear a fellow swimmer's pity that I won't be able to train properly for six weeks.

Six weeks.

Bella presses her lips together, before she nods, and gets to her feet. "I'm going to get something to drink," she says, and I get another kiss. To the forehead, this time. Okay, I could get used to this. I really could.

I answer Kate's call as soon as Bella is out of the room. She's as worried as ever. I can hear the concern in her voice, the helplessness. She's thousands of miles away, and there's nothing she can do about it. I don't want her to do anything. I end up telling her all I'm comfortable with, which isn't much. I don't remember much, which I think is for the best. I don't want to remember.

"I want to see you," she says, which means nothing to me. She's in New York City, and I'm in Seattle. What she wants means nothing right now. How did we ever think that this would work? It's never going to work. I know it, and I suspect she knows it too.

She says words, and I say fewer. When she hangs up, I'm exhausted. I set my phone aside, fix my shirt and then shift to lie down. My ribs burn as I settle on my right side and prop my left arm up on a pillow. It hurts, but it's a dull sort of ache that is more annoying than anything. I close my eyes and try not to drive myself into a panic attack.

Six weeks.

I don't hear Bella's return, but I feel the bed shift under her weight, and I open one eye to look at her. She looks pensive as she also settles on her side, facing me.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi back," I say, mirroring her tone.

"Everything okay?"

I close my eye again and breathe out, grimacing slightly. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't train for six weeks," I tell her, surprised that the words can even come out. What isn't surprising is that they come out in front of Bella. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do without training, Bella. I mean, who am I if I'm not swimming? It's who I am. It's all I am."

"Edward," she says, her tone taking on a rushed quality, and I open my eyes to look at her. "It's not all you are," she says. "It's only a part of you. There's so much more to you than just swimming, and I won't have you talking so little about my best friend, do you hear me?"

I blink, my breath catching. "Best friend?"

She takes a moment, looking panicked. She clearly didn't realize what she was saying, and I give her ample opportunity to rectify her faux pas. "Well, uh, yeah, you're definitely one of my best friends, Edward."

I just stare at her.

"Hey," she murmurs, shifting towards me. "My little Nemo, please don't cry."

I frown. "What?"

Her fingers move to my face, and she wipes at the tears I didn't even know were there. "It's going to be okay, Edward," she says. "Even if you can't get into the water, you can still, uh, run?"

I laugh. "Can't run," I tell her. "It's kind of a thing that swimmers don't really do."

"Okay," she says. "I'm sure there are other things you can do." She bites her bottom lip as she thinks, and I can't stop myself from staring at her mouth. "I know! You can do sit-ups!"

I laugh again, which jostles my aching body, and my smile is quickly replaced by a grimace.

"Oh, Nemo," she says, shifting closer again, and running a hand through my hair. "You're breaking my heart here."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "I'm sorry I worry you, and I'm sorry I ruined your dinner."

She closes her eyes for a moment. "You didn't ruin anything, Edward," she says. "I told you I had a bad feeling."

I cough.

Her fingers are soothing as they thread through my strands. "God, just, please don't do anything like that again. I don't think I'll survive it."

"I just - I know it was a special night for you, and I wanted to spend it with you," I tell her. "I don't know. Maybe if I'd been paying more attention. I mean, I wasn't in a rush, but I - " I take a shuddering breath. "Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"It's going to be okay, right?" I need to hear her repeat it.

Her fingers are still in my hair, but they stop their movement. "Of course, Edward," she says quietly. "It's going to be just fine. This is just a speed bump; just a test, to see what you're made of. We both know you're made of the strong stuff. It's six weeks, and I know it feels like an eternity, but it's going to fly past, and then you can get back to it."

"You sound so sure."

"I am."

"But how? Why?"

"Because I know you," she says. "And, whatever you need to do to get back, I know you'll do it."

"Because I'm Edward Cullen?"

She grins at me. "Because you're Edward Cullen, yes. It's because you're you, and I believe in you. We all believe in you."

"Just you," I say tiredly, my eyes closing and staying closed. Maybe the painkillers are kicking in or something, but I suddenly feel very content just lying here, with her. "My Bella."

Her fingers resume their movement, and it's both soothing and calming. I don't know if I dream it, but I'm sure I feel Bella press her lips against my chin.

I guess I fall asleep because Bella's gone when I next open my eyes.

I roll out of bed and visit the bathroom. I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Also, shit, I'm hungry. I wash my face before I head downstairs, searching for Heidi. Instead, I find Rose and Emmett sitting side by side on the large couch in the TV lounge. The TV is blaring, and they aren't saying anything to each other. Things have been quite tense between them since the entire blowout regarding Royce and Rose dating. I'm surprised they're even sitting next to each other.

My mind momentarily registers panic that maybe Bella and the two of them crossed paths, but I'm beyond caring right now. I wouldn't know how to explain it any more than Bella would.

"There he is," Emmett says as soon as he spots me in the doorway. "You look like shit."

Rose slaps his arm, hard, as she gets to her feet. "How are you feeling?" she asks, moving to hug me. She's gentle, but it still hurts. I'm definitely going to need a painkiller soon.

"Sore," I admit as she releases me.

We both head back to the couch, and I settle down between them, acting as a physical barrier. It's awkward for a moment before Rose makes it that bit worse for me.

"Who's Beau?" she asks.

I blink in confusion - and panic. So much panic. "What?"

She points at my cast, where Bella's signed her 'name.' She must have done it while I was sleeping. "Who's Beau?" she asks again.

I don't even know what to say right now. My head is aching, and I can't think of something suitable to get me out of having to tell the truth. Honestly, what do I even say? What would she believe?

Emmett helps me without even knowing it. "Leave the guy alone, Detective Hale," he says coyly. "Do you or do you not want to sign his cast?"

Rose huffs before she reaches into her bag at her feet for a Sharpie. I sit perfectly still as she signs her name by drawing an actual rose. I don't know how she handles it on the curve of my arm, but it looks perfect. She blushes slightly when I tell her.

When Rose hands Emmett the Sharpie, I stiffen.

"I swear," I say to him; "if you draw a penis on my arm; I will gut you."

He fakes astonishment. "Jeez, almost dying has made you mean."

Rose reaches behind me and slaps the back of his head. "Behave."

He pouts, but I don't react. I'm tired, and I can hear that my words are starting to slur. Right now, I don't even want to be talking.

Maybe Rose shoots him another look because Emmett sighs heavily and relents. "I promise; no genitalia," he says.

I watch him carefully as he scribbles his name. Really, if I didn't know what it was supposed to say, I wouldn't be able to read it. "Jeez, Em," I say. "Why does your handwriting look like bird shit?"

He exaggerates a gasp. "I still have a Sharpie here, you know?"

I quickly take it from him. "Hah."

We settle in again, and I can tell that Rose wants to ask me things. I'm not in the mood for answering questions, so I tell her all I'm comfortable with right now. It's a bit more than I said to Kate, but Rose is right here. I can feel the heat of her, and it makes all the difference.

Maybe she doesn't understand how important my training is to me because she doesn't even comment on the idea of having to suffer through six weeks without it. She just nods as I speak, and I reason maybe Bella really is the only person I can talk to; the only one I want to talk to.

I think Kate only understands because she's a swimmer.

Bella understands because she's Bella.

Rose just won't, and Emmett isn't bothered to try.

"Are you going to be at school tomorrow?" Rose asks me.

I shrug. "Probably," I say. "I've already missed enough days as it is. Even a single day of school is enough to catch up on." The mere thought of everything I've missed gives me anxiety.

Rose nods. "I brought you some of your work if you want to have a look," she says. "I'm happy to help if you need it."

I smile my thanks, and absently query about what's gone on since I blacked out after the collision. Emmett tells me unnecessary things about his football training and how they're going to tear it up on the field this coming Friday night. Rose tells me that the café we talked about visiting had their grand opening, and she was taking me there as soon as I was up for it.

I don't know if I'll be up for it anytime soon, but I don't say that.

Six weeks.

I don't know how I'm supposed to get through it.

Despite Bella's assurances, the weeks are slow. They drag by, scraping me along the ground behind them.

I hate it. I hate it all.

Without training, I don't have to be up at four o'clock, but my eyes always snap open anyway. Even though I can't swim, I still do all the weight and strength training I'm allowed to. Conditioning is just as important as working on my speed and endurance.

But, all I want to do is swim.

I can get into the water, so long as my cast doesn't get wet. I do it only at home though. It's easier to control. Esme wraps my arm in a towel before she wraps it in plastic. I keep it out of the water with will, and a little floating device. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do for now. I think I just miss the feeling of the cold water around my body.

Bella and Esme find it a little hilarious just how mollified I am by it. Whatever. They can laugh. At least I'm in the water.

Before I know it, the end of October is among us, and it's Halloween. Personally, I'm not much of a fan of Halloween. I'm indifferent to it, really, but Bella loves it. I don't know what it is, but maybe she likes the idea of dressing up; of pretending that she's something she's not. Who knows?

It's the one thing that she and Alice agree on, and Angela is the one who looks on in equal parts wonder and despair. Maybe it's because of the religious, gray area surrounding the holiday, I don't know. Bella doesn't say.

Halloween is on a Sunday, so it's technically a school night.

Bella texts me saying she's taking Max around the neighborhood and asks if I'd like to join them with the twins. I've never really cared much for the whole Trick-Or-Treat thing - maybe because I'm half-Canadian or because my childhood was stunted - but I roll out of bed anyway and text her to tell her I'm game. I haven't seen her all weekend.

When I get downstairs, Felix is just getting ready to head out with Peter.

"Liam's not going?" I ask.

Felix shakes his head. "Doctor said no."

I sigh. "Poor guy," I say, because the chicken pox is keeping him home. Esme wanted to have the boys catch it at the same time, but I guess Peter's immune system just said 'nope.'

"He's heartbroken."

I can only imagine. I drop my eyes to look at Peter, who's dressed like a little Dracula. He's got on his long cape, his plastic teeth in his mouth and fake blood dripping from the corner of his lips. He looks great.

I move to kneel down in front of him. "Did Mommy do that for you?" I ask him.

He nods. "Do you like it?"

"Very scary."

He growls at me, and I fake a cower.

I look up at Felix. "Dad and Esme are out?"

He nods. "Big case."

I frown. Some big case? I shake my head. It is odd that Esme isn't home, but that makes my next question simpler. "Do you mind if I take him around?" I ask. "We're meeting Bella."

Peter perks up. "And Max?"

I smile at him. "Of course."

It takes us a moment to get ready. I rush back upstairs to grab shoes, a jacket and the Peter Pan hat I was supposed to wear to Bella's birthday dinner. It survived the accident, even though my car didn't.

My father replaced it immediately, though he didn't allow me to drive for a full week. I'm kind of grateful for it now, even though I was pissed at him before. There was a lot of silence. I didn't talk to him for two weeks, which I know was unfair but I couldn't help it.

I remember a counselor once asking me how much I blame my father for what happened when I was younger. I never really understood what she meant back then, but I think I get it now. How much do I blame him? Subconsciously, at least. I have to stop to acknowledge it, which makes me feel better but worse at the same time.

"Ready?" I ask Peter.

He immediately takes hold of my right hand, which leaves me with no hands. It's cute, sure, but I don't know where Bella and Max are. I don't really want to let go of his hand because he's my little Peter, but I have to. I rush around him and put my left arm around his shoulders instead, almost hugging him to me. It's quick, and I hope he won't see it as rejection.

He's flighty sometimes. Fragile. It's built into him, and we're a family that does its best to help.

I take out my phone with my right hand. "Hmm, let's see where Bella and Max are," I narrate, as I dial Bella.

She sounds breathless when she answers, and I can't help it when my body tenses at the mere thought of why. "Okay, so, just so you know, avoid the Volturi house," she says. "Max and I dared to go in, and I think I just crapped my pants."

I laugh. "That scary, huh?"

"Definitely not for your brothers."

"It's just Peter and me," I tell her. "And, are you at the Volturi house now?"

"Oh no," she says. "Poor Liam. And no, we kind of ran from it. Headed your way though. Turning onto Belvedere."

"Okay," I say; "I think I know where you are. We should meet up in a bit."

"I hope you dressed up."

I blink. "You're saying that as if you've dressed up."

"I have," she says.

"Oh?" I swallow. Sweet Jesus. "What are you wearing?"

She laughs. "That is so not a question that you ask someone who's not your girlfriend, Edward."

I push through, blatantly ignoring the way the thought of her being my girlfriend makes my heart rate quicken. "Okay... how about, what are you dressed up as? Uh, what's your costume?"

"It's a surprise," she says, and then hangs up.

My heart rate rises a little bit more, but I try to ignore it as I pocket my phone. Peter and I take it easy as we pass by the decorated houses. He's too shy to go up to the doors, and he refuses to let me go with him. Maybe he's embarrassed, so I don't push it. I suspect he's waiting for Max. Max brings Peter out of himself by just being his happy-go-lucky self. It's difficult to be anything but open when you're with him, because he doesn't allow you to be anything other than yourself.

It's the innocence of him. I hope he never loses it.

We meet up with Bella and Max on Belvedere, and, oh my, I can't breathe. Bella barely gives me time to take in her costume before she hugs me. All I know is it's green, and it's sparkly. She's in a leotard, green leggings and a frilly mini-skirt that isn't helping with my breathing.

Peter gets a hug too, and she doesn't comment when he stiffens in her arms. He's not much of a hugger. I'm not much of one either. I get it from my father, and I guess Peter gets it from birth.

"Hey," Bella says, touching my hat with her fingers; "we match."

We do. She's the Tinkerbell to my Peter Pan, and I can't help grinning stupidly. We match. In clothing, sure, but in so many other ways as well, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

She looks me over, and my skin tingles under her scrutiny.

Max tugs on my jacket and I give him my attention, greeting him enthusiastically. He's not averse to hugs, and I get a lengthy one, even lifting him up off the ground and spinning once. When I release him, Bella is looking at me curiously.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she's quick to say. "Shall we?"

I nod, and we get on our way. I try not to read too much into the fact that both Peter and Max grab for Bella's hands. For a while, I walk behind the three of them. I also try not to watch Bella, but I can't help it. She's so beautiful, and the sway of her hips is distracting.

I think of Kate, which forces me to look away, ashamed. I'm terrible. Shit, I'm fucking horrible. What am I doing? Honestly, just what the fuck am I doing?

A moment later, Max runs back to me. I can't see his face behind his plastic Spider-Man mask, but I just know he's smiling. It's practically his default setting on a day like this.

"What's up?" I ask, as he moves to my side.

"Nothing," he says, taking hold of my right hand. He grips it tightly, and I try not to grimace.

Bella glances over her shoulder at me and smiles.

I automatically smile back.

Jesus Christ, I'm in deep.

So deep.

Bella's watching me intensely, as if she's waiting for me to do something.

She's going to be waiting a long time.

"Edward?"

I swallow audibly.

"Just move it."

I shake my head.

She loses patience with me quickly, and reaches for my left hand. She pulls, and I expect it to hurt, but it doesn't. "See," she says, tugging again. "It's fine. It's healed. Your doctor wouldn't have taken the cast off if it wasn't." Her fingers are warm on my skin as she slides them across my wrist, feeling for any foreign protuberances. "See?"

I do see. I'm staring at my wrist; staring at her fingers, trying to accept the truth. My arm is healed. I can get back to training.

Why then do I feel so apprehensive about it?

"Hey," Bella says; "look at me."

I meet her gaze.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, and I don't think you do either." Her expression is soft, understanding. "But hear this, your cast is off, Edward," she says, as if she has to remind me the ghastly green thing is finally gone. "It came off this morning."

I blink. "I can go swimming?"

She nods. "You can go swimming."

"I can go swimming," I echo.

She nods again.

I look back down. Dr. Thomas did all the necessary checks when he removed the cast, but I wasn't yet used to moving my arm normally. Even as Felix brought me back to school, I kept it still and tucked into my body. I came straight to Mr. Banner's class, bypassing my friends, just because I needed a moment.

But Bella.

I found her in here, and she was clearly waiting for me. I didn't even know I needed to see her until I did.

I sigh, as I stretch my fingers. I expect Bella to take her hand back, but she doesn't. Her forefinger and middle finger are pressed against my pulse point, and I wonder if she can feel how erratically my heart is beating. I'm one week ahead of schedule, which gives me an extra few days to get back to full fitness before the National Championships. I can do it. I know I can.

"Are you okay?" she asks me when I haven't said anything for a while.

I open my mouth to respond, but the classroom door opens, and all conversation stops. Bella's hand flies from mine immediately, and her body stiffens before she relaxes at the sight of Mr. Banner. She doesn't give back her hand, though.

He greets us before heading to his desk.

"We're eager beavers, aren't we?" I whisper to her.

"It's disgusting."

I laugh, as I stretch out my arm again. "What's disgusting is this arm," I say. "Look at how pale it is, Bella. It looks sick."

"So, Esme told me that you have to do physio," she says conversationally. "Something about muscle atrophy."

I nod. "Andrea and Dean have a whole schedule drawn up for me. Apparently, it's going to hurt."

"I can imagine."

I watch her fingers twitch, and I can't help my smile. Clearly, she wants to touch my arm again, but we're at school and that can't happen. We both know that.

She lets out an irritated puff of air before she takes out her books and settles down for the upcoming class. I try to settle down as well, but I can't. Just thinking about what I'm going to have to do to get fit again gives me anxiety. Maybe Bella can tell, because she keeps glancing at me as the lesson goes on. She worries a lot.

She worries enough.

By the end of the day, I've worked myself into a panic attack of epic proportions. I escape from French without acknowledging Bella or anyone else. I rush to my locker, grab the books I need, and then I get out of there.

My father had Felix take me to the doctor because he didn't think I would do it myself.

But my car is here, parked in its usual spot. I race home, quickly realizing I'm wasting time thinking. I don't have time to throw around if I want to be ready by the first week of December. Just the thought of it makes me twitch as I pack a bag for the pool. I'm so out of practice that I forget a towel and have to go back for it.

It's still relatively early, and I manage to sneak in without people who know me noticing. Under normal circumstances, I would wait and get started on my weight session, but I have to get into the water. How can I head to the weight room when I have the opportunity to get into the water? It would be sacrilegious.

Because it's a feeling that I can't even describe. It's as if everything is suddenly right with the world, and I feel it all the way down to my very toes. It's going to be okay. Bella said it's going to be okay, and I'm inclined to believe her. She hasn't failed me yet.

I swim until I'm completely spent. Completely. Just the realization that I'm so unfit gives me anxiety. I have to get back to my best as soon as possible. I don't have time to waste.

Which is why I throw myself into my training.

Excessively.

Every day, every free minute that I have, I'm training in some way or the other. It's all I'm focused on as the week progresses, with everything just taking a back seat. I'm not prepared for our Biology practical on Wednesday, and, despite Bella's irritation with me, we get through it without disaster.

Because the disaster happens the next day during said lesson. Why does everything exciting happen during Biology?

"Edward?"

I can hear Bella speaking, but I'm not really listening.

"Edward? Edward?"

I blink as I focus my attention on Bella. "What?"

She frowns. "Are you okay?"

My irritation spikes. "Don't I look okay?" I snap.

She flinches. "Uh, you just seem distracted," she says.

"I just have a lot on my mind," I tell her, which isn't really untrue. I do have a lot on my mind, though I'm not really sure what. I think I should apologize for snapping at her, but she's not even looking at me anymore.

I wouldn't call what's going on a fight, but things do feel disjointed. We get through the rest of the lesson easily enough, and she reminds me she's coming over later.

"Huh?"

"It's Thursday, Edward."

I frown, confused for a moment. It's Thursday. "I know that."

Her expression is a mixture of concerned and annoyed. "Edward, I told you we're going to work on our write-up tonight."

"I have training," I tell her.

"Which is why I'm coming after."

"My training is going to go late, Bella."

Her eyes narrow. "Instead of making excuses, why don't you just tell me you don't want me to come over?"

"It's not that - " I start, but she cuts me off.

"Save it," she says, shaking her head. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you need to sort yourself out. I'm not going to drag us both through this write-up."

I glare at her. "Nobody asked you to," I snap, drawing the attention of the people packing up behind us. "Jesus, Bella; it isn't as if it's not going to get done!"

She returns my glare for the longest time, her eyes studying me as if she's looking for something in my face.

"What?" I ask.

She just shakes her head, gathers her things, and then leaves the classroom.

I wait a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. It's giving me a headache, so I stop, gather my own things, and then head to my next class. I can't focus on whatever's bothering Bella right now. I need to focus on swimming. Right now, it's the most important thing. Everything else can wait.

I can't wait for school to let out, and my knee bounces the entire way through French. As soon as the bell rings, I'm out of my seat and gone. I don't have time to waste.

The pool is inviting, but also a little daunting. I feel exhausted just looking at it, but I know I have to push through. I don't have a choice if I'm going to have any success at the National Championships that I am going to, come hell or high water. I don't care what anyone says.

Seeing as I have my own training schedule, I'm left alone as I swim in the furthest lane, isolated. I have my earphones in, and I just swim and swim, pushing myself to my very limit and beyond. I'm glad they leave me to it, because it's incredibly late by the time I do call it a night.

It's nearly ten o'clock, and I'm pruned. I take my time in the shower, nibble on some leftover lunch, and then head home. Heidi's gone, and I find my supper in the oven. It's the usual, sure, but I don't want it. I'm hungry, but I'm not at the same time.

I grab my protein supplements and energy drinks and head up to my bedroom. I have a French speech I still have to write and practice, which takes me an obscene amount of time. It's almost two o'clock by the time I crawl into bed, and then I'm up again at four o'clock. I'm exhausted, sure, but I have to get to training, and my feelings aren't going to stop that.

I'm one of the first in the pool, and one of the last to get out. I'm late for school, but I don't really care. I just make it to homeroom to get my name ticked off the register, before it's time for assembly. I don't look at Bella, and I'm sure she doesn't look at me.

That doesn't change all day. I dip down into the pool during lunch to get in a few laps and then sit through a very tense Biology lesson. Mr. Banner hasn't given us any free time to work on our write-ups, which I'm a little bit thankful for. I'd rather listen to him prattle on about goodness-knows-what than deal with whatever Bella and I are not talking about.

When the bell sounds, indicating the end of the lesson; Bella gets up and leaves without looking at me. I take a moment before I stand. I'm hit by a wave of dizziness and put my hand on the table to steady myself. Huh. Weird.

I make it through my next class, only to arrive at French feeling odd.

I lean against the wall and try to steady my breathing before I go inside and slip into my seat. Madame Pince is sitting at her desk, calling people up to deliver their speeches one by one. She's going along the line, starting with the first row, which means that Bella stands to say hers before me. I try to listen, but I just can't focus enough to understand.

When Ben is up, I prepare my cue cards, my hands shaking as I do. Huh. I catch Bella's glance my way, but she says nothing. I can't pay attention to the words Ben says either, but that has nothing to do with nerves. It's something else.

Something is wrong. I just know it.

"Edward, you're up next," Madame Pince says.

I take a breath and gather my cue cards before I stand. My foot catches on my chair, and I swear under my breath. Bella looks over her shoulder at me, and I look away. I hate that we're fighting, but I can't bring myself to do anything about it.

Right now, I have other things to worry about.

I straighten, and get hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. I place a hand on the desk to steady myself, but it doesn't work. I see white spots as I tilt backward.

"Edward?" someone says, but it barely registers.

I'm falling backward.

"Edward?"

My vision goes black.

Bella screams. Maybe somebody else.

And then nothing.