Katie

Deep voices pull me into consciousness.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. There's nothing we can do."

Carlisle? I try to pull my eyes open. Damn, these are some good drugs. I'm definitely not dead, so they can't be talking about me. I try to find some comfort in that.

"Please, Dr. Cullen. Carlisle. I'm begging you."

Seth. That's Seth. Why isn't he still in bed with me? I'm feeling a little cold, now that I think about it. I try to remember a time when I've ever heard Seth refer to the doctor by his first name, and I come up short. What's he begging Carlisle about, if I'm not dead?

"Seth, I understand. But there are still options. Options that are less extreme," Carlisle murmurs.

"But it's Katie," Seth pleads, the anguish in his voice unmistakable, even in my drug-induced haze. "I know you could if you had to. You love her, too."

Or maybe I am dying. On the brink of it all, and Seth's begging Carlisle to change me into a vampire. Maybe that alternative, the one where I will never die, is more appealing to Seth, even if it means I'd be his enemy.

Okay, Katie, really? I'm being ridiculous. I'm fine. I can even sort of open my eyes, hear my heartbeat drumming away rhythmically on a machine. See? Not dead. Dramatic, but alive.

The thought makes a garbled laugh escape my throat.

"Katie, baby," Seth says, his voice now at my side. "Are you feeling any better?" A warm palm presses against my cheek, and I lean into it.

With a contented sigh, I open my eyes. Warm, concerned ones stare back at me. "I feel like I got hit by a truck," I say honestly.

Carlisle chuckles from my other side. "That's normal. Do you remember what happened?"

The warmth in my body turns ice cold, and my heart skips a beat. I hear it on the monitor. Is it going to be like this every time I wake up from this day forward? A few seconds of bliss, and then remembering all over again?

"Wish I didn't," I finally squeak out.

Seth's grip slides to my hair, and his lips press to my forehead. "Are you hungry? Adam brought food for everybody."

The name, coupled with Seth's lighter-than-expected tone when saying it, makes me find his eyes again. "Adam's here? And you talked to him?"

Carlisle clears his throat. "I'll leave you for now. Katie, if you need anything, just buzz. I'll be around."

"You don't have to stay on my behalf," I say quickly. "I'm sure you're tired."

Seth and Carlisle each chuckle. Oh, right. Carlisle doesn't need rest.

"I'll be around," Carlisle repeats, shutting the door on his way out.

"Do you want food?" Seth asks, running his palms gingerly up and down my arms. "Or do you just want to go back to sleep? It's close to ten."

I don't tell Seth, but it's their conversation, not my hunger, that has me wide awake. I tread lightly. "I can't sleep right now," I admit. I go to spin my rings, but my fingers are empty. "Where are my rings? Did I lose them in the accident or something? Will you go look—"

"Katie," Seth says gently, interrupting me. "Relax. I've got them." He reaches into his pocket and brandishes them. "Your fingers were swelling a little. The fluids helped, though."

I hold out an open palm, but Seth laughs again, flipping my hand over and sliding them into place instead.

"Still a perfect fit," I whisper. I grasp his hand, allowing myself a few seconds of comfort before I break the silence. "Does the pack know?"

"Jacob just knows you were in an accident, not the specifics. Dr. Cullen told him to phase in and come get me. The less he knew the better," Seth says, his sentences coming out as sighs.

I study Seth, and he does the same to me. I'm sure I'm a mess, but what I see is this: red eyes with dark circles, disheveled hair, clothes that are wrinkled like the wearer's been restless. His hand resting in mine, gentle and not nearly enough to make the dull ache in my chest stop.

I know I didn't imagine his horrible temper earlier; the railing of the bed is still shattered between us. If I look hard enough, I can see that same fire in his eyes now. But for the most part, he's just Seth, soft and endearing and wanting to fix everything for me. I want to keep him this way.

"What is it?" he prompts, lowering himself to the mattress at my knees. "I can have Leah phase in if you want, let everybody know?"

I chew my lip. "I… I think I want to keep it need-to-know."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean? About the accident?"

"About what caused it," I whisper, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Katie." His tone is anguished, to say the least. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of. It's not your fault. None of this," he pauses, gesturing around the room, "is your fault. Okay?"

It's not a rhetorical question, so I give him a half-hearted shrug. "Please?"

Seth hesitates, but nods. "Okay, sure. Whatever you need." My stomach growls, and the somber mood in the room lifts. I even think I manage to catch a glimpse of a smile on his face as he turns toward the door. "Let me go grab your food from Adam."

There's a lot of things I don't understand. Why Seth suddenly doesn't hate Adam. What caused his dramatic mood shift from foaming at the mouth to doting, attentive husband.

And I still haven't forgotten what Seth and Carlisle had been talking about when I woke up. But seeing as neither of them brought it up on their own, I don't think I'm meant to know at all.

I wake up in a furnace. I go to kick the blankets off, but my muscles ache – all of them, even my eyelids.

That's why it takes me a few more seconds than it should for me to register Seth laying in the bed next to me. The hospital bed.

With a jolt, the memories of yesterday settle over me, heavier than the blanket of heat wrapped around me or Seth's arm pressed against my ribcage.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it works the other way – a horrific sound, a mixture of a gasp and a moan and a sob, escapes from my throat. I go to stifle it, but my only free hand is weighed down by bandages and IVs. The other one is under the blanket, which Seth is pinning to the mattress with dead weight.

I know the second Seth wakes up, because his grip on my ribs tightens, sort of an Oh, there you are. My sob gets louder, and although my eyes are shut, I feel his gaze on my features with sharp awareness.

"Katie," he murmurs, his nose pressing into the side of my neck. "It's okay. I'm here. You're okay."

I can't speak, so I just nod into his chest, and breathe in the scent of him. It's a funny thing, being hooked up to this machine. I can hear my heartbeat slow with each lungful, become surer and steadier.

"Is this how it is for you all the time?" I mumble. "Hearing my heartbeat?"

His laugh washes down my neck, and the unexpected warmth causes goosebumps to erupt across the skin there. "Yeah."

More hot hair blows against my ear. Because of the machine, I hear that my pulse picks right back up again. It's like when I had food poisoning. Even when I'm bedridden, my body reacts to him.

"Your parents are here," he chuckles, sliding to his feet. "They got the first flight out this morning."

"Did you tell them what happened?" I ask, reaching for his hand before he tries to escape.

He sighs. "Technically, Charlie did. But yeah, they know. Greg and Charlie have been speaking strictly in legal terms for about an hour now."

"Oh, no," I grumble, sinking back down in the bed. "I just want this to all be over. I want him—it to go away."

"Trust me, I'm right there with you," Seth growls, his grip on my hand tightening.

It takes effort to pull my grasp free. It didn't hurt, but it had potential. "What were you talking with Carlisle about last night?"

He doesn't look surprised that I heard or upset that I know. But I can also tell by the way he ever-so-slightly shakes his head that he's not ready to share. "I'll go get your parents."

"Hey," I call after him.

He pauses by the foot of the bed. "Yeah?"

I want to tell him I don't want to feel like this anymore. I want to scald my skin away where he touched me. I want to go back to school and the diner the paper and pretend nothing ever happened. Pretend Jordan never existed.

"I love you, Seth Clearwater," I say, my voice surer than I'm expecting.

For the first time this morning, the fire of anger in his eyes is replaced by one of love. And Seth proves that he knows exactly what I need when he responds. "I love you too, Katie Prescott."

Leslie Anderson is silent.

For the first time in her life, maybe.

She just stares at me, and I stare back. The wound in my forehead itches, but Carlisle urged me not to touch the stitches. Instead, I spin my rings around my finger. Around and around and around.

"Katie, I…" Leslie blinks, several in rapid succession, and I think she's trying not to cry. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I feel like I should have… done something. If I just hadn't spilled the coffee, then—"

"It was an accident, Leslie," I interrupt, messing with the straw in the iced coffee she brought me. "It wasn't your fault."

The accident was two days ago. I'm checking out of the hospital today, going home to a house that has been meticulously cleaned and de-Jordanized, according to Leah and Adam. What that means, I'm not quite sure, but I have a feeling it has to do with my memory cards and computer.

I think Seth finally realized he was wasting energy being mad at Adam when there were others more deserving of the effort. I still haven't figured out what he asked Carlisle to do, and they haven't discussed it again where I could hear them.

"What's everyone saying? On campus," I ask glumly. If anyone knows about the rumor mill, it's got to be Leslie.

She takes a deep breath, mouth opening wide, but stops short. "Are you sure you want to know?"

My ring-spinning picks up speed. Want isn't exactly the right word, but that's beside the point. "Yeah."

"Okay," she says, taking a large drag from her own coffee. "So most people are right, that it was just an accident." I wince, but she continues obliviously. At least she can bounce back quick. "But some asshats think you crafted the whole thing to get out of finals."

"Ha," I blurt, loud and dry. "So creative."

"Right? Like jeez, there are much better ways to get an extension. The flu, computer troubles, dead car battery, flat tire, and if the prof's really a hardass, a funeral for a distant relative will do the trick most of the time."

Despite myself, I laugh. "How many distant relatives do you have left to kill off?"

She giggles, relaxing into her chair at my bedside. "I haven't even touched my dad's side yet. I'll be able to coast though the rest of my degree," she says as she tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm glad we met, Leslie," I say, surprising myself. "I don't know if you're sticking around town this summer, but I think I could really use a friend. One of my best ones is moving. In my hour of need and everything." I try to lay on the sarcasm, because I know Leah's outside in the waiting room, posted up where she's been for the last two days. I can nearly hear her snicker from here.

I don't need Leah to know my words are truthful. Not right this second, at least. Thursday night before she left, she'd leaned down and whispered that she wasn't going anywhere – not home, not to work, not to Seattle – until she knew I was absolutely okay.

How do I tell her I don't know how long that will be? She has plans to sell her house – she has showings this week. What's she going to do? Hey Adam, imprint, love of my existence. Katie needs me. Never mind on the whole 'starting our life together' thing.

Leslie sighs in relief. "Oh my God, yes, please. I was going to ask you, but I didn't know if you'd have, like, horrible associations with me or anything."

My heart rate spikes. "Why would I have horrible associations with you?" Does she know? Is she going to visit with Jordan? Has she already been there? What did he say?

I've been able to find out a little more about the accident from Carlisle and Charlie, but I only ask when Seth's not in the room (which is not often).

When I wrecked my car, I wrecked it good – it's totaled, which I suspected. It was only worth a few thousand at most anyway. I'd pulled the wheel so hard we ended up facing east on the westbound shoulder. We'd jumped a rock, and that coupled with the general impact of the back bumper smashing into a tree means that Jordan and I are sporting matching concussions.

However, Jordan had more time to brace for impact than I did, which is apparently bad? He'd tried to grab onto the dashboard (so he's actually just an idiot in general). The skin of his arm was burned off. He's also got whiplash.

I try to feel bad. It's a stretch.

"Because of all the work we had to do for that damn class," Leslie sighs, her laugh twinkling in the air between us. "Which sucks, because Rich didn't even collect the portfolios. But that's good I guess, because now I can burn it and bury the ashes. I never want to look at it again. But anyway, we passed."

"We as in—"

"Rich passed the whole class. He redistributed the grades not to include the final portfolios."

I drop my gaze to my lap. "That's nice," I mumble. "At least you won't fail because of me."

Leslie scoffs. "You're ridiculous. You carried us, Katie. You're the best photographer in the class. Maybe even the whole program."

She leaves after a few more minutes, because my headache is returning. Being concussed is probably my least favorite way to be holed up in bed. At least when I check out later today, I can go home and hole up on the couch, with my own pillows and blankets. My own shower head with decent water pressure.

My parents are still in town, but Dad's been in constant communication with Charlie, from what Mom and Sue have told me. That's one perk of having an attorney as a dad, I guess. Someone to fight your battles – the legal ones.

Except it might not be a battle at all. Apparently, it's a crime to intentionally use a car as a weapon, which is exactly what I admitted to in my statement.

But it's also a crime to molest someone, so—

"Hey," Leah says, making herself at home in the chair Leslie just vacated. "I think Carlisle is working on your discharge stuff right now."

"Where is everybody? Are my parents back yet?" I ask, scratching at the stitches and wincing when they pull. I bet that's going to leave a nice little scar. "Is Seth okay?"

"Whoa, Katie, relax," she laughs, propping her feet on the bed. She's got dark circles under her eyes, too. It's a trend – Seth, Leah, my parents, Sue, Charlie. I try not to look in the mirror when I use the restroom, but I bet I look worse than the lot of them combined.

"Your mom's with my mom in the waiting room. Your dad's with Charlie at the station. And Seth is—"

"Here," Seth says as he strolls through the open door, holding a take-out bag from the diner. "Larry stopped by."

I suppress a groan. This is also a trend – people stopping by with food (I hope Carlisle's not taking offense; I wish I could speak to the hospital's food situation, but I haven't had a chance to even try it yet). Yesterday it was Jacob with breakfast, Leslie with coffee for lunch, and Edward with something homemade by Esme for dinner. This morning Adam brought food for everyone again, and now apparently, it's Larry's turn.

"I think I'm the only person on earth who could gain weight in a hospital," I say, pulling the bedside tray to my side as Seth pulls out a soup and sandwich. Larry remembered my favorite.

Leah only snorts.

There's a knock on the door, and Carlisle comes in, followed by an unfamiliar woman. She's probably in her early to mid-fifties, and she's sporting short, graying blonde hair. She's got glasses hanging around her neck from a teal jewel strap.

"Leah, would you mind giving us a minute, please?" Carlisle asks politely.

Leah studies the newest addition, flicks her eyes to me, and nods once.

Once the door shuts behind Leah, the older woman takes the seat Leah had occupied, pulling it closer to the bed.

"Katie, Seth, this is Dr. Paula Hutchison. She's the hospital's staff psychiatrist, and a close personal friend."

Psychiatrist. Oh, God. Am I going to be that screwed up?

"Nice to meet you," Seth says cheerfully, and all I can do is nod in agreement. "Is it okay if Katie eats her lunch while we talk?"

She laughs. "Of course." She gestures for us to continue.

I feel sharp eyes studying me as I fumble through getting the lid off the soup.

"It's hospital policy to meet with a mental health professional prior to being discharged, even for routine procedures," Carlisle offers.

I stir my soup, watching steam curl off the surface so I don't have to meet any inquisitive eyes. All I can do is nod. Shame sits heavy in my stomach, and I'm not sure it will mix well with tomato bisque.

"I've been briefed on your situation," Dr. Hutchison says gently, "and first and foremost, Katie, you are brave. Don't forget that."

Warm fingers rest on my shoulder, and when I look up to Seth's face, he's blurred and watery. I'm so tired of crying.

"There are just a few things we have to go over before I can sign off on your release, and a few more things Dr. Cullen asked me to discuss with you," she says, her voice firming up as we start the rehearsed part of this exit speech.

I try to listen as Dr. Hutchison explains the symptoms of depression and panic attacks that some people experience after hospital stays. The soup turns over in my stomach, but I force it down just so I don't have to talk.

After she leaves, Carlisle presents a clipboard to me. "Sign at the bottom, and you're free to go," he says with a cheery smile.

Except I don't feel free. I don't feel light, like weight has been lifted off my shoulders and all is right in the world.

Because I don't have a car, and I have an incomplete grade in my philosophy class, and I have stitches in my forehead and a bruise on my wrist and, oh yeah, a concussion too. And maybe not even a chance for justice.

But I sign anyway, and Seth smiles brightly down at me, and then Sue's pulling her car around to take us home.

Home.

I'm worried even Seth won't feel like home anymore.