Disclaimer: Not that it will come as a surprise to anyone reading this, but Twilight and it's characters do not belong to me, Stephanie Meyer is the only one that can make that claim. I just like to play in the wonderful universe she created.

As always, thanks to my betas Im2xshy and Kzintikiller for their invaluable support and input. I never would have posted this story if not for them. They also both write awesome fan fiction stories of their own in the Twilight universe so please look them up here on this site and check them out. You won't be disappointed.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who added me and my story to their alerts and left me reviews, I treasure each and every one.

Last week we saw Bella jump in front of Edward when he was confronted by Emmett, Jasper and Rose. Then we saw Bella begin to communicate by writing things down. She also reluctantly promised to try and eat if Edward agreed to hunt.

I had a lot of comments from readers that were confused as to why Bella would write things down rather than just talk since they two things are so similar and there's no medical reason she can't speak. Hopefully, this chapter will answer those questions. I will also have a couple more comments on that topic at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 11

BELLA

"Well, Bella, it looks like you've just bruised your hip, probably when you ran into Edward," Carlisle told me as he ran his hands over my hip and carefully manipulated my leg. "It will probably be sore for a couple of days and you'll likely have a rather large bruise, but I think you'll be fine."

I nodded, but didn't write down anything in response. After all, I was used to being clumsy and having bruises. Alice and Rose were hovering behind Carlisle watching me and I knew it was irrational, but I wasn't sure which of them annoyed me more.

Rose looked concerned. That annoyed me because that's how nearly everyone had looked at me for the past few months and I was getting really tired of the 'poor Bella' looks. I was broken, I get it, but did everyone have to look like there were expecting me to come apart at any minute?

As for Alice, I could see she was trying not to grin. And it wasn't just any grin. It was her 'I-know-something-you-don't-know-shit-eating' grin that she was trying to suppress and not having much luck. It was as if she had all the answers in that twisted little pixie mind of hers while I had no answers at all and I resented her for it.

Both of them were getting on my last nerve.

And then there was Carlisle. Oddly enough, him I didn't mind having around. You would think that after all my bad experiences with doctors over the last few months I would have been running away from Carlisle like I was on fire and he was gasoline, however, I felt nothing but warmth and comfort from his presence. I never felt uncomfortable around him or threatened by him. I always knew that his compassion and his caring was part of the reason he was such a good doctor, but I had a whole knew appreciation for him now.

Ever since I'd woken up here, wherever here was, he'd gone out of his way to not hurt me and even though I didn't respond, he'd always talked to me like I still had a brain in my head and wasn't a three year old. Of everyone in the house, I'd been the least tentative about him touching me, maybe because he almost always asked permission first and told me what he was going to do so I was never surprised or startled. He also didn't give me the 'poor Bella' look, which I attributed to his medical training and bedside manner. He might be thinking it, but at least it wasn't written on his face all the time.

"Can I get you anything, Bella?" Alice asked as Carlisle stood up and helped me get up from the bed where he'd been examining me.

I limped back over to the chair where I picked up the pad and pencil again. "I would like some time alone until Esme comes back."

Alice and Rose both looked disappointed, but they both nodded. "We'll be downstairs if you change your mind and want some company," Alice said quietly as she pulled Rose along behind her.

Carlisle walked over to me as I settled into my chair. Kneeling down beside me, he looked at me a little strangely for a moment, almost as if he were searching for the right words to say.

"Thank you for trying to protect Edward, Bella," he finally told me. "I hate to see the boys at odds with each other."

"I didn't want Emmett and Jasper to hurt him," I wrote.

He nodded and his eyes were full of understanding. "I'm sorry you were injured."

I shrugged but didn't write anything.

Carlisle's eyes were serious as he looked at me. "It's good to see you interacting with us again, Bella. I'm sure I speak for the entire family when I echo Alice's words that we've missed you." I think that he half-expected me to say or write something else but when I didn't, he patted my arm and stood up. "Well, I'll give you that time alone now."

He left the room, shutting the door behind him and once again I was alone... just as I'd asked for. The problem with that was I wasn't finding comfort with the solitude like I once had.

Now I just felt... alone.

Before he - come on Bella, you can at least think his name – before 'Edward' had shown up, it had been easy to let myself float in the isolation like it was a pool of cool water on a hot day; to let my mind go blank and numb me to the fact that I had little present and no future beyond the four walls I found myself living in. Ever since Edward's sudden arrival, my ability to slip into the isolation had been moving further and further away. Part of it, I'm sure was due to the fact that he was in the room with me during every waking moment of the day now so technically I wasn't alone, but I wondered if it wasn't more than that. Was time healing some of my emotional wounds? I say 'some' because I don't think all the wounds will ever be healed.

If I was slowly healing, I wasn't sure it was a good thing. The blankness and the floating had been easier and less painful. Now I had to think and worry and, God help me, try not to hope for things I couldn't have. And while having Edward back had made the open wound in my chest smaller, it was more painful than ever because I knew he was only here to fix me and then he'd be gone again, off to find more interesting 'distractions.' Once I was healed I assumed I'd be cut out of his life and his family's life so fast I wouldn't know what hit me. So maybe it was selfish and weak and small of me, but if being broken meant I could stay with them, stay with him, even if it was just for one more day, then I didn't really have much incentive for getting better, did I?

But it wasn't that easy of course, parts of me were apparently healing whether I wanted them to or not. My actions over the last half hour had proven that, hadn't they?

With a sigh, I dropped my head into my hands. What the hell had I done? Without thinking, I'd ripped my way through the carefully constructed non-communicative walls I'd built to help Edward and now I didn't see any way for me to rebuild them. I felt like I'd rushed through a door, only to have it close and lock behind me, thrusting me into a new place that was foreign and, at moments, terrifying to me. A place that I had no guidebook for and no idea on how to navigate through it. To make matters worse, even if I wanted to, I suspected that Edward and the Cullens were not going to let me shut them out again.

Well, at least not until they got tired of me and were ready to drop me off by the side of the road like an unwanted puppy that they wished was someone else's problem.

"Well, well, someone is having quite the pity party."

My head jerked up. "Where the hell have you been for the last three days?" I snapped taking my anger at myself out on him.

Leaning against the window, Anthony grinned a little and looked very unconcerned about my apparent foul mood. "I'm happy to see you too," he commented. "As for where I've been, I thought you'd like a little time alone with Eddie boy."

"Don't call him that," I grumbled. "He hates that name."

He shrugged. "So what? He's not going to hear me, now is he?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't like you calling him that either," I shot back. "As for him hearing you, I guess I don't have the same luxury. He can apparently see my lips move when I'm talking to you. Did you know that?"

His expression turned somber. "No, I swear, I didn't realize it until he said something," Anthony said. "But that's another reason I haven't been around for three days, the man... vampire, whatever, never leaves your side and I was worried that if I was here you'd talk to me and he'd see your lips moving again and think you'd gone completely around the bend."

I snorted. "Yes, because he doesn't already think that."

Anthony's expression turned serious. "Actually, I don't think he thinks that at all. And you pretty much made his day... heck his whole existence today by jumping in front of his brothers," he said quietly. "But you know you could have been killed, right? They could have squashed you like a bug."

"Vampire's have excellent reflexes," I pointed out. "I knew they would stop."

"No, you didn't. You didn't know any such thing," he challenged. "I'm up here, remember?" He tapped his temple. "You didn't think at all, you just reacted and put yourself in harm's way to save him."

I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn't. "So what if I did? He's worth saving."

"And you're not?"

"Stop over dramatizing it," I said rather than commenting on his actual question. It didn't matter anyway, he and I both knew the answer. I wasn't.

He looked like was going to press me on it, but then he changed directions. "So there's something I don't understand," he said.

"You're doing better than me then," I told him. "I don't understand most things these days." When he shot me a dirty look, I sighed. "What don't you understand?"

"Why you're writing stuff down instead of just talking to them?" he asked. "It doesn't make any sense to me. What's the difference? You're still communicating with them."

I shrugged. "I don't know."

Anthony folded his arms. "Yes, you do. Come on, Bella, this is me you're talking to."

"I guess I panicked, okay!" I snapped back. "Unless I wanted to play charades, the only way I thought I could get Ed... get 'him' to go hunt was to write it down."

"So you're not punishing them?"

His accusation caught me off guard. "Of course not, why would you say that?"

"I just thought maybe you were punishing them by not letting them hear your voice," he said.

His words made me angry, but I couldn't help but consider them. Was that was I was doing?

I honestly didn't think so. I thought back to when Edward talked to me that first day he came back and had begged me to talk to him. I remembered thinking that I wasn't keeping silent to punish him. The same thing still applied to the whole family.

"No, I'm not punishing them," I insisted quietly. "I just don't want to talk."

He smirked at me. "You do realize that writing is just talking but on paper, right?"

I shook my head. "No, it's different. When I write I can plan out my thoughts more carefully and not say too much or say something stupid."

"Ah, so you're worried about saying the wrong thing?"

"Isn't everyone?" I replied.

Considering that, he nodded. "I suppose you have a point. So is it safe to say that you don't trust Edward and the Cullens, or really anyone but me right now, enough to risk saying too much or something stupid?"

I hadn't thought about it like that, but actually that was a good observation. I answered him honestly. "Yes, it's safe to say that."

"Well, I'm glad you can at least admit it to yourself... and me."

"I'm glad you're happy that I don't trust anyone," I muttered.

His expression softened. "Bella, of course I'm not happy about that, I'm just glad that you can admit you have trust issues. Being self-aware isn't a bad thing. You can't work on something until you know about it."

I rolled my eyes at him. "In my experience, being self-aware is highly overrated and tends to hurt like a bitch," I snapped back.

"Fair point," he agreed, but didn't continue that line of questioning any further.

We were both quiet for a moment and Anthony looked especially thoughtful. "So you're going to eat something, huh? That should be fun."

I sighed. "Please don't start about me eating. It's already going to be bad enough without your peanut gallery comments. I can't believe I agreed to it."

"Then why did you?"

"Because he wouldn't have hunted it I hadn't."

He nodded. "Well, try and think positive, maybe it won't be so bad this time," he said hopefully.

"Oh, please, the last three times I've tried to eat anything, I've thrown it right back up," I pointed out. "And that doesn't even count the two days I spent throwing up when I got here."

"When you got here you were injured and getting all that medication out of your system, of course you were sick," he pointed out. "And as I recall, those other three times happened when you were still in the hospital and you were either upset or on copious amounts of medication."

"Whatever," I grumbled. "In any case, my humiliation will be complete when my vomiting does not go unnoticed by half the Cullens. Hell, Alice has probably already seen it happen," I grumbled. "I guess I should just be happy that Edward, Jasper and Emmett will be out of the house."

"Well, aren't you a bowl full of optimism?" Anthony commented.

"I'd prefer to call it being realistic," I replied sourly.

"You sound more fatalistic than realistic to me," he said. "You haven't even tried eating yet and you're talking like you've already failed."

"Yeah, well, failure and I are old friends."

"Jesus, Bella, really?" he said clearly angered by my words. "You know, it occurs to me that you're not a failure at least one thing."

This ought to be good, I thought. "Oh? And just what am I so good at?" I asked.

"Feeling sorry for yourself," he shot back. "You've got that down pat. If you spent as much energy trying to get better as you do on feeling sorry for yourself you wouldn't be in the state you're in right now."

I wasn't sure which hurt more, the fact that he was calling me on my shit instead of letting it slide or the fact he was right.

"It's not that easy," I said without much conviction.

"It's EXACTLY that easy," he argued back. "In any case, don't you think it's time to put your big girl panties on and start climbing out of the hole you've dug for yourself?"

"Why are you being so mean?" I asked quietly. For the first time in a long time, longer than I could actually remember, I felt tears beginning to prickle in my eyes and I blinked rapidly to hold them off.

"Because I'm angry, Bella. I hate to see you wasting your life and your potential. And because, believe it or not, I think Edward really does love you and he really is sorry he left you and if you let yourself get better you might just get him and everything else you've ever wanted."

Just then, with an impeccable sense of timing, a light knock sounded at the door and a moment later, Esme entered with a tray. Any chance at mounting some kind of response to what Anthony had said was lost.

"Big girl panties, Bella," Anthony said and then he evaporated.

"Here you go, Bella," Esme said brightly as she carried the small tray over and set it down on the end table beside my chair. "I brought you some chicken broth like I promised and some water. I know it's not a lot, but Carlisle said if you can keep it down for an hour or so you can have more." She picked up a steaming mug from the tray and handed it to me. "I thought drinking it from a mug might be easier for you."

Nodding, I reached out and took the large mug from her. It was heavy, but the warmth of it felt good against my palms.

Esme picked up a chair from the far wall, and brought it over to the side of my chair not blocked by the end table, and sat down. If I had to guess, I'd say that she was supposed to make sure that I actually drank it and didn't just take it in the bathroom and pour it down the sink.

Not that I was thinking of doing that. Okay, so it MAY have crossed my mind once or twice.

"I tried not to make it too hot for you," Esme she said as she settled herself in the chair and waited for me to start drinking.

I stared down into the depths of the steaming mug. For a moment, I almost wished that it was alphabet soup so that the letters could magically rise to the surface like some type of Magic 8-Ball and tell me that it would be all right to drink it.

Why was this so hard? It was just a cup of broth. Oh, yes, the whole throwing up thing. Well, maybe Anthony was right, maybe this time it would be different. Maybe I was ready.

'Put on your big girl panties,' he had said.

I let out a breath. Okay, I could do this. It was just mind over matter thing, right?

"Bella?" Esme said quietly. "Would you rather have something else? I have beef or vegetable broth if you'd rather have those instead. Or if you want something cold, Carlisle said you could also have some Jell-O."

I shook my head and held up the mug to indicate that this was fine. Then I brought the mug to my lips and took a small sip. I was surprised by the fact that it actually tasted pretty good. I figured that something as simple as broth would be pretty unexciting. While it wasn't the most amazing thing I'd ever tasted, it was definitely good. Warm and smooth, it reminded me of grandma Swan's chicken noodle soup, without the noodles, of course. On the other hand, after not eating or drinking anything for so long, it felt a little strange to actively swallow something and feel it running down my throat and into my long-empty stomach. And, at least for the moment, it was staying there.

I turned to Esme who was looking at me expectantly and I managed a small smile. From the glowing smile she gave me back, you would have thought she'd just won the lottery. I guess I had been pretty stingy with my smiles over the past few weeks I'd been here and seeing Esme so happy over something so simple made me feel very guilty. In my attempts to hold myself back from the Cullens and not get attached to them again, I'd apparently not been very fair to them either. Although the details of exactly what had happened were sketchy to me, they had still taken me in after I'd been in the hospital. Even if my current living situation was temporary, I had to be grateful for that.

Thankfully, Esme didn't try to make any further conversation and she seemed content to sit quietly and watch me as I continued to drink the broth. I suppose it should have made me feel self conscious to have her watching me like that, but like Carlisle, I only felt comfort from her. It helped that she was still smiling over my own earlier smile and wasn't using a 'poor Bella' face on me.

The trouble began when I was about three-quarters of the way through the mug of broth. First, there was a distinct feeling of fullness, which given the fact that my stomach had shrunk over the past few months from lack of food was easy enough to ignore. But then the broth started to feel like it was a rock sitting in my stomach. However, I was bound and determined to finish it. By the time I was down to the last sip of liquid in the cup, it was all I could do to force it down. Once I did, my stomach began to roll greasily.

Setting the empty mug on the tray, I rubbed my hand over my mouth telling myself over and over again that what I was feeling was just my stomach getting used to something being in it again and I was not going to throw up. The rising nausea, of course, mocked all of my attempts.

My mounting distress didn't go unnoticed by Esme, who was frowning now. "Bella, are you okay?"

I started to nod, but the intensifying tickle in the back of my throat had me changing it to a violent shake. Unfortunately, the violent shake was not a good idea and it only served to move things along faster. Sore hip be damned, I bolted out of the chair and limped as fast as my legs would carry me to the bathroom. I got there just in time to lose the entire mug of broth as I threw up in the toilet.

I vaguely felt Esme's hands holding back my hair as I retched. "Oh, Bella," she said quietly.

My still healing ribs throbbed horribly as I emptied the contents of my stomach. The only good thing was that the broth was pretty easy to throw up and didn't taste too incredibly bad. I made that judgment based on the time that I had the stomach flu and I had thrown up milk. It had been curdled and vile beyond belief. It took me years before I could drink milk again and I still refused to eat cottage cheese.

Once I'd finished, I sagged against the edge of the toilet. Esme was right there with a damp washcloth to wipe my face and Alice was there with a glass of water for me as Rose hovered in the bathroom doorway. None of them seemed to know what to do or what to say to me. Idly, I wondered where Carlisle was. It didn't seem right to have only three people witness this humiliating moment.

After rinsing my mouth, I curled up on the tile floor and relished to cold feel of the tile against my cheek. My ribs still throbbed, my stomach continued to roil and cramp slightly, I had a bit of a headache, and I was panting a little from the exertion of vomiting. Closing my eyes, I tried to slow my breathing down and I hoped that it would have the side benefit of helping to control my lingering nausea.

Okay, so obviously eating something hadn't gone so well. Next time I saw Anthony - stupid hallucination - I would be sure to give him a piece of my mind.

"Bella, honey?" Esme said gently as she stroked my hair away from my face. "Do you think you can make it back to the chair?"

Unable to answer her question because I honestly didn't know if I could or not, I simply closed my eyes and dearly hoped I could get through the next five minutes without being sick again.

EDWARD

Jasper and Emmett were true to their word, keeping me out of the house for exactly an hour. I'd fed on two deer and a small bear within about 45 minutes of leaving the house, but Jasper was timing me on his watch and insisted I stay out for the full hour. Our conversation had been light as I'd mostly concentrated on hunting so I could get back to Bella that much sooner. In both their minds, I read the fact that, just as Rosalie had told me, they were both very devoted to Bella and the only way they could see to help her right now was to make sure that I was well fed enough to not attack her. I was surprised to read concern for me in their thoughts as well, but I didn't comment on it.

While I hunted, the animals I fed on did help my thirst and I did feel calmer afterward, but just as when I'd been in South America, the act of feeding and hunting was more an autonomic response than anything else. There was no joy or satisfaction in what I did, only a means to an end. While I was out in the woods, my thoughts had been mostly consumed with Bella and whether or not she was all right and eating as she'd promised. I also took the time to think through the things that had happened this morning and how I thought we should interact with Bella going forward. I felt sure that being around her and involving her more were our best courses of action where she was concerned. I also allowed myself to hope that the morning's events would be some type of turning point for her.

Like a child at the close of a long school year, as soon as Jasper and Emmett released me at the end of the hour, I was off like a shot and running for the house. I couldn't wait to see Bella again. I didn't know how I'd been apart from her for so many months, because now I couldn't stand to be away from her for more than a short period of time before I began to feel anxious and off balance.

When I entered the house through the living room sliding door, I saw Carlisle starting up the stairs, his black medical bag in hand. Worry for Bella was uppermost in his mind and I read parallel thoughts from Esme, Alice and Rose upstairs. My stomach dropped when, through Esme's eyes, I could see Bella curled up on the bathroom floor.

"What's wrong, Carlisle?" I demanded, rushing over to him. "What happened?"

"Her attempt at eating didn't go so well," his mind answered. "Apparently, she did drink all the broth Esme brought her, but it didn't stay down for long. I came down to get my bag, but was just on my way to check on her."

I nodded to him and then we ran upstairs and into Bella's room. Carlisle and I pushed past Rose who was standing the bathroom doorway. Esme and Alice were kneeling on either side of Bella, who was still curled up on the bathroom floor with her eyes closed, but they stood up and moved back when Carlisle and I came in.

Carlisle and I knelt down and took Esme and Alice's places on each side of Bella. "Bella, it's Carlisle. Are you all right?"

With her eyes still closed, Bella lifted her head slightly and shook it mutely, and then she laid her head back down against the tile.

"Edward, let's move her back out to the bed where I can examine her," Carlisle suggested.

I nodded and started to slide my arms under her. She weakly tried to push my hands away but the effort seemed half-hearted at best and even her weak struggles ceased once I had her in my arms. Just as she'd pressed herself against the bathroom tiles, she now pressed herself against me; I assumed seeking out the cool surface of my body as a replacement for the tiles. Whatever the reason, I didn't care, she was in my arms and pressed against me and that was all that mattered to me right then.

Her body was feather light as I carried her out into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. For a moment, she clung to my shirt as if she wasn't going to let go, then I saw her eyes flutter open for a moment and she seemed to realize what she was doing so she released my shirt and laid there with her eyes closed while I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Bella, how do you feel?" Carlisle asked.

Bella's eyes opened again and she motioned for something to write on again. Alice retrieved the pad and paper from the end table by Bella's chair and brought them over. I held the pad while Bella wrote something.

"Like I just threw up," was her succinct written reply.

"Were you feeling sick before you drank the broth?" he asked next. She shook her head. "So the broth made you sick?"

Bella glanced at Esme and then wrote. "Yes, but no comment on Esme's cooking. I liked the first half of it."

Esme smiled gratefully at Bella for not blaming her cooking as Carlisle continued to question her. "So the first half of it went down all right? It didn't make you sick?" Bella shook her head. "What happened after that? How did you feel?"

"I started to feel really full and then when I tried to finish it all, it felt like the broth was a greasy rock in my stomach," she wrote. "I could tell I was going to throw up."

Carlisle nodded. "How do feel now?"

"Ok," she wrote. "Ribs hurt a bit, but stomach is settling down."

"Well, your ribs are still healing so it's not surprising that vomiting made them hurt," Carlisle commented. "Is it okay if I press on your stomach and abdomen to check for any tenderness?"

Bella nodded and I watched while Carlisle conducted his exam. Luckily, he didn't find any spots that gave Bella any discomfort. He also took her vital signs and found that everything seemed pretty normal. He sat back on the side of the bed and studied her for a moment.

"Well, Bella, I don't find anything wrong and you don't have a fever. I think the entire cup of broth was just a bit too much for you," he said. "We'll wait a few hours and then try again. I think..."

Bella's eyes went wide and she shook her head emphatically.

"What's wrong, Bella?" I asked as she began to scribble something down.

"I threw up once, isn't that enough?" she wrote.

"It's going to take your body a little time to get used to eating again, Bella," Carlisle tried to explain. "I think there are a few things we can try next time to maximize the chances that you'll keep it down. I thought about trying them this first time, but I was hoping your body would tolerate the broth without help."

She wrote something again, this time her eyes pleading when she looked at me rather than Carlisle. "Please don't make me do it again. I hate throwing up."

Even though she'd been looking at me, Carlisle read the note too and answered before I could. "No one likes to throw up, Bella. That includes us. When we eat human food, we have to throw it up too because we can't digest it."

"Yes, it's one of the suckier things about being a vampire," Alice put in.

Bella's eyes had flicked from Carlisle to Alice and then back to me, all but begging. Carlisle's input had failed to convince her and Alice's comment had failed to amuse her out of her reluctance. My dead heart twisted at her distress. I wanted to cave in and tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to try eating again, but I knew it that it was better for her if she could start eating on her own and we could wean her off the intravenous feedings. As much as it pained me, I knew I had to do the right thing over the easy thing.

"Please, Bella," I begged her. "Won't you at least try?"

She looked at me for a very long moment, her expression unreadable. "Why?" she finally wrote.

"Why what?" I said stupidly.

I knew what she'd meant, in fact, I was pretty sure that everyone in the room knew what she'd meant, but her question had caught me off guard and I didn't know that else to say. I suppose I'd hoped that the simple fact that I'd asked her to do it would be enough, but of course, it wasn't. I'd lost that privilege the day I'd left her in the woods.

"Why do I have to try?" she scribbled. "What does it matter?"

Again, my heart twisted as I stared at her. Now that she could communicate to some degree, I could see just how broken she was. She'd never had much of an instinct for self-preservation, but this went beyond that. It was more than just her not speaking, it was clear that she didn't really even care about what happened to her; didn't care about her own health or welfare. Well, in that case, I was going to have to care enough for the both of us for the time being.

"It matters to me," I said quietly, my eyes never leaving hers.

She blinked at me in surprise. My guess would be that she was looking for an argument based on facts and not on a personal plea from me. I saw her eyes brighten from what I could smell were gathering tears, but they didn't fall.

"Fine," she wrote almost angrily. "I want to rest now."

Without waiting for us to answer she laid her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. A moment later, I saw a tear slide from between her closed lashes to trail over her cheek. I slowly reached out to brush it away, but her hand beat me to it as she angrily swiped at it. There were no more tears after that.

"Of course, Bella," Carlisle said as he stood up. "Let us know if you need anything."

Bella gave no response and everyone but me filed out of the room. From their minds I could tell that they wanted to have a family discussion downstairs about today's developments with Bella and were waiting for me before they did. But I wasn't ready to leave her yet and so I took a few minutes to sit on the side of the bed and simply drink in the sight of her. I knew from her breathing that she was not asleep and I was pretty sure that she was aware of me sitting next to her, but if so, she made no outward sign of it.

Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable under my constant staring, but still not ready to leave her, I slid off the bed to sit on the floor with my back against it. I dropped my head back against the mattress near her hip and listened to the soft, wet sound of her heartbeat.

I heard a very slight rustle and was about to turn around to see what she was doing when I felt the tentative touch of her hand in my hair. To say I was shocked by her simple action did not begin to cover it. I tensed up at first and then I immediately relaxed as her small fingers tangled gently through the strands of my hair. Now I wished I'd gotten around to taking that shower I'd promised her and I made a mental note to do that once she had fallen asleep. I almost shuddered to think what had collected in my hair over the months since I'd taken a proper shower.

At the moment, she didn't seem to mind though and I remembered that she'd always liked playing with my hair. Her actions now were so like the old Bella, I would have wept for joy if I had been physically able to. As it was, I had to force myself not to start purring, which had been my usual reaction when she had played with my hair or rubbed my scalp for any length of time. I was worried that any reaction from me might make her stop so I remained still and let her touch my hair.

I was not sure how long we had been sitting there, but then I heard her breathing finally begin to even out and her fingers slowed until eventually they stopped but were still resting on my head and I knew she was asleep.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, I slid out from under her hand and went to take that shower and change clothes before I left Bella just long enough to have a discussion with my family.

TBC...

With regards to Bella writing out her answers rather than just talking...

When she told Anthony about her desire to avoid saying the wrong things by writing out her responses rather than saying them, it is a reflection of her need for control. There's so much about her life that is out of her control right now that she, at least subconsciously, hangs onto the fact that she can control what she does and doesn't say and she communicates only in the way she wants to. One of my reviewers commented that it reminded them of how an anorexic person looks at food. Food and their weight are something they can control when other things feel so out of control. In any case, I still see it as a step in the right direction for Bella as she wasn't communicating at all before. I hope that helps explain the writing versus talking question.

Oh, and for those of you living in the U.S., don't forget that tonight we 'spring ahead' an hour for Daylight Savings Time.

Next week: Edward and the Cullen's discuss the new turn of events with Bella, Bella has a nightmare and then mentally reflects on the first time she saw Anthony. Have a great week!