Btw. It pretty much goes to say that an M rating has the potential for gratuitous cursing, smut, darker subjects that some may find a bit uncomfortable, and downright ;p porn. I don't know how I feel about it, but I am pretty sure that (given that I've already rated the story M for a reason) I'm not going to re-announce it if it comes up. That seems reasonable to me. You?

14.

I was released that night with an arm cast and a bottle of Tramadol. Carlisle drove me home, asking me how I was feeling several times during the short ride. I finally relented and told him the truth: I was concussed, my body felt broken, and I was still terrified from the crash. He told me that I was going to stay up late for game night so that he could monitor my concussion. It was not something I felt like doing, but, despite this, I smiled. I had pills.

The family members were beside themselves. Esme hugged me close and peppered me with kisses until I called her attention to the fact that I was in pain. Alice gave me a subdued hug, which meant she was upset that I had not kept my promise, and let me wrap my good arm around her. Even Edward expressed gratitude that I was alive, though he chose to verbalize it rather than physically embrace me.

"Glad you're alive, man."

I could only think to thank him because the phone was being handed to me. It was Emmett and Rosalie. I wondered how they knew and made a quick mental note to question Alice later, when we were alone.

"Hey, Superhale, how you feeling?" Emmett's voice rang across the wire.

I chuckled. "No longer able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, but it will be okay. I've decided to keep the hero suit off for a while."

On the other side I heard Rosalie's voice. "Tell him to stop reading comic books!" Behind the humor, I heard the worry in her voice. I felt the full irony of her concern but did not smile. It actually irritated me that she, in all her infinite struggle and emotional scars, could think I was the breakable one.

"So," said Emmett and his voice turned serious as well, "are you staying away from trouble?"

"I just got back from having bits of my hand surgically removed - what do you think?"

Emmett chuckled to himself before becoming serious. "No, really – are you still sick?" I instantly knew that Rose had put him up to this awkward task.

"No, I'm feeling better," I said, noticing for the first time that our conversation was not exactly private. My mouth was open to say more and there was a hesitant pause in our conversation because he knew I had been about to continue – continue on to say "it's all in my head now" or "I just wish I could stop thinking because I'm fucking going crazy" or even that I was sorry.

Instead, I turned away from my family and cradled the phone closer to myself so Esme couldn't hear. "I really fucked that flu bug up – kicked the shit out of the bastard."

"You need to work on those lies, little bro," said Emmett through the phone. "And I feel like I have to warn you: if you do this to Rose again, just drop in like that, I will be the end of you. Okay? We were worried."

"Okay, Okay," I reassured him, noticing that he had tried to be macho and make it about Rosalie but failed. Still, this conversation was going nowhere fast. "Hey, can I talk to you later or something? I've got to go."

"Sure, sure. Have fun eating tofu for dinner; Rose and I are going out for steak."

"Fucker," I growled into the phone and Emmett roared with laughter as he disconnected the line. I handed the phone away and shook my head bemusedly, all annoyance gone. Only Emmett.

That evening it was quiet in the house. I could detect no animosity from my brother, no guilt from Alice, and the worst emotion I saw flicker in Esme's eyes was disappointment when Carlisle beat her hand of cards playing Texas Hold 'Em. In the end of that game, however, Edward still came out the champion as he always did, his side of the table teaming with neatly stacked Poker chips of varying heights. He was simply too good at reading people, which was a major reason why Alice and I – though we did share that love of cards – usually fought for games like Charades or Pictionary: those were two games where we had the advantage.

The game night finally wound down an hour before midnight when I was officially released from "concussion watch." Edward had, of course, swept us away at the card table. Alice and I had dominated as a team in our two game choices because, together, our minds worked as one entity. Go figure that Carlisle would choose medicine as his interest in Careers and that Esme won the game of Life. It honestly confuses me why we bother having game nights when we already know who will win what, but we all participate anyway and end up smiling as we lose Life to Esme and her carload of pink and blue pegs.

I popped a pill, changed, and climbed into bed before I had time to remember to change my bandages. I would not have done it anyway – it was time consuming and painful. As it was, my entire body was encased in a dull, almost distant ache that just would not die down enough to let me be. I did not need to stretch my skin and pull arm hairs twice a day to change bandages when only once a day would suffice. I was not much of a masochist.

Alice slipped into my room five minutes after I'd laid down. I lifted the comforter and she snuggled in next to me. I rested a plaster-coated arm over her waist, reveling in how it felt like a return to normalcy, and she curled her hands around my casted fist. In the days that I had been back, I had thought I had missed her calming presence. Now I knew exactly how much I had missed her. Too much.

"We were going to eat breakfast with Rosalie and Emmett at Chez Shea," Alice mumbled after a moment. She was falling asleep. "And then the phone rang. Mom thought it was Carlisle, but it Edward was at his office. I had to tell them why we were cancelling the breakfast date, you know?"

"Of course," I murmured, unable to find a timeline for when Edward had been at the hospital. I had not seen him. "And I'm sorry that I made you worry, Alice. I know I promised."

She made a noncommittal sound as she fell asleep. I smiled to myself as my eyes dropped also. Within minutes, I had followed her down the rabbit hole.

The following month, Bella and I did not even try to speak to each other. After the tragic results of our last conversation, I had decided that this was for the best and instead befriended my prescription. It made my arms jittery and my eyes wild but also managed to take the edge off life, which I appreciated. Within a week I was abusing it and the painfully bright colors of my mind had faded into soft shades of gray.

We sat in class, leaning away from each other as was now usual, and ignored each other. The silence was stony. She ignored me, fallen over the desk, my chin propped up by books and a heavy plaster cast; I no longer pretended to pay attention because it was useless. I was able to accept fate and fail. Again.

For my part, I ignored the endless stream of boys whose flirtatious advances were only as bad as their overpowering cologne. I could hear the tired smile in her voice when she spoke with Mike Newton and almost feel the discomfort that she did when he sat on her desk, directly in the way of her studying. The words he said were incoherent – pure babble – and yet he seemed to find them amusing. But I managed to ignore him.

We had been assigned a project on ecosystems two weeks ago. So far, Bella had done all the work while maintaining the curtain of silence that hung between us. I think she decided to go with the human body as an ecosystem, but it was never proper to assume and I was too lazy to ask. If she did not want to talk to let me know, I was not going to ask.

Mike Newton was painfully loud today, but there was something off about his voice. It lacked the usually boisterous attitude that pissed me off so much. I was curious to know what his problem was, but the end bell rang before I got the necessary energy to look. He and Bella walked out of class together – which was weird, considering she usually lost him in the crowd and escaped. It was too bizarre, too uncharacteristic. What was she thinking? I had to know.

It did not take much effort to catch up. In fact, Mike had turned and nearly cornered her against the wall; Bella looked both embarrassed and awkward as he stood so close to her. I slowed to hear their conversation while maintaining a neutral distance. A thought distinctly passed through my head that this was going to be good.

"Did you want to ask me to the Spring Dance?" Mike said, his voice nervous. I held in a smirk, not wanting to distract from the beautiful moment between the two as I walked by.

"That weekend?" She was panicking. I could hear it in her voice that she had no good excuse to say no; she was stalling. But then I did a very stupid thing: I glanced over to see the petrified look on her face and she saw me. "I'm going to Seattle that weekend," she supplied quickly, her eyes flicking from mine to his. "There is a Science exhibit that ties into my project perfectly."

So she had escaped. I cursed under my breath, turned away, and went to class.

I waited for Alice in front of the school with the umbrella; she was speaking with the art teacher about her works being put on display and, I believe, she needed to bring one home to retouch. I was here to make sure her artwork did not get ruined in the weather, but my mind was calculating how fast we could get home or how fast I could write up a fake prescription. After this it was only a quick bounce to the hardware store to pick up some paint for Esme before we headed home, but that seemed like an eternity when I was standing still, counting the minutes since my last pill.

I needed something to occupy my mind, and the orange behemoth provided the relief. Bella brushed by a boy and slammed the door of her truck as she jumped in; he went away with a dejected air to him that made me think he had just been rejected. The truck swung into the lane and stopped just short of Edward's car, which was idling with its flashers on. She looked… pissed.

Alice stepped under the umbrella and I looked away from the unfolding scene to secure her under the umbrella as we made our way to the Volvo. With one arm she clutched a canvas to her chest that was dirtied with shades of graphite,* but the other arm was linked with mine. She smiled serenely and I opened the door for her.

"So I take it your meeting went well?"

"Oh, yes," she purred, "it did." But she would not give me any extra information.

I slid into the car after her and shut the door. Edward pulled out quickly, his face contorted in the effort to conceal laughter. He glanced to the review mirror and burst into howls of laughter as we pulled into the street. Looking back myself, I saw Bella's wrathful face and had to chuckle.

Yes, she was definitely a distraction.

And I liked it.

I hope some of you caught the true meaning of what Jasper says... think and ponder.
Also, my apologies for cursing about the car to whomever I cursed while writing to. That's a my bad - it was all solved while I went for a long weekend up to New England and Bahston. Know what I did? I Pahked the Cah by Hahvahd and toured the city - had a wicked awesome time, too! Then I went and toured a Vanderbilt estate: the Marble House AKA their summer cottage. WTF! Summer Cottage my butt!

*check to profile, yo! It's adorable.