A/N for 2018-11-16: Not sure if it's the end of the week getting to me, but I post this with some uncertainty. Definitely want to hear your thoughts (positive, or negative) on plot and character development.

Thank you, as always, for doing what you do best: reading, reviewing, and reacting!

~ Erin

Expectation and Reality

Edward sat on the coffee table, a look of stunned comprehension on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bella interrupted him.

"I need to get out of here," she whispered, shame and anger warring for space in her features. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd been at home for an hour, and she was falling apart with nerves.

Another wave of anger rose up, and Edward's eyes widened again.

"You're not falling apart," he said firmly.

"What?"

She hadn't said that aloud, she was sure. Had he—

"How did you—?"

His eyebrows were pushed together in concentration. "I heard you—"

Her own eyes widened.

Edward shook his head, then looked very worried again. "You're not, Bella. You're doing so well."

"You're hearing my thoughts?"

"I did."

"But—"

"For a moment. Yesterday, I thought I heard it too, but now," he cocked his head, as if trying to focus, but shook it again. "No, it's gone."

The panic hadn't lessened. If anything, it was suggesting possibilities that made her skin crawl. "I can't stay here."

He nodded, standing, picking her up, making her gasp at the sudden movement.

"Where?" he asked softly.

"Just not here." She closed her eyes, knowing he intended to run. As the evening's smells whistled by her, she curled herself tighter into the chill of his body.

Feeling the changing quality of the air, she knew they were inside.

Before she opened her eyes, she caught a woman's audible snort, and Edward's growling response. "Not now, Rose."

"Whatever," his sister mumbled.

Bella opened her eyes a crack, as Edward set her down, just in time to catch the sight of Rosalie slipping out the door they'd just come through.

"Is it OK, that we're here?" she asked him. "If it's not, I'm fine, I can—"

Edward's hands cupped her face. "You're always welcome here. Always." Then he smiled, "And Esme is going to come repeat that in a moment. Rose is just—wrestling with her own demons."

Bella smiled nervously in return, her heart still fluttering with the panic she felt only half left behind.

"House full of vampires, remember? No one can trouble you here."

She nodded, but felt the pull of a frown at her lips, as she asked, softly, "If it's OK, I'm not really feeling up for company right now."

"Sure," he said softly, holding out his hand for her to take.

Moving at Bella's pace, they walked upstairs. As they did, he pulled out his phone, redirecting the pizza order he'd made earlier.

Bella laughed. It sounded so normal, so completely at odds with how she felt. The laughter wasn't quite her own, a bubbling sound that became a hiccoughing warble. Edward hung up, and stood face to face with her.

"Just breathe with me, OK? In, and then out."

She nodded, trying to master her body's instinct to panic—to run. After a few repetitions, she nodded, and they continued up the stairs.

At the doorway to his room she stopped, not quite sure if it was the right one.

Sitting, centred in the space, was a gigantic bed. It's golden bedspread matched the carpet, and made it look some sort of monstrous fungal outgrowth of the floor. The four sturdy posters only added to this spore-like effect.

She turned and looked back at Edward, her face full of questions.

"I thought you might want a more comfortable place to sleep, than my couch."

She turned back to the bed, then at him, and then burst into genuine laughter.

After the initial, stricken look had faded from his face, Edward smiled sheepishly. "Too much?" His fingers played with hers.

This tiny gesture made her realize just how much he must want her approval—just as she wanted his.

"Sorry," she murmured, "that wasn't kind of me. It's really thoughtful of you. Thank you."

It was still insanely huge. And intimidating.

She looked at it nervously.

"You toss and turn a lot in your sleep," he murmured. "And I'd rather not having to keep you from falling out of bed. Again."

Of course. He'd mentioned it the last time she'd spent the night. It hooked up a long line of memories, and her knees suddenly felt treacherously uncertain.

"Maybe you should sit—or lie down?" he asked, fingers now at her elbow, not quite holding her up, but close.

"Yeah."

The gigantic bed was at least comfortable.

He sat beside her, legs crossed casually, as she tucked her arms around her own.

After a moment, she mustered the courage to ask, "What did you hear?" Then she held her breath, waiting for his answer.

His hand grasped hers. "That you were very afraid, a bit about what you thought might happen if you stayed in your house, and that you were angry, and disappointed with yourself."

She exhaled in relief. "Anything else?"

His stillness told her there was.

"You remembered something, briefly, that made you feel out of control."

She swallowed, and nodded. He'd seen it, then.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No," he said in reproach. "Don't ever apologize for what you think, or remember, Bella. I should be the one apologizing to you. I'd turn it off, if I could, believe me. Everyone deserves the privacy of their thoughts."

She bit her lip, thinking about this.

"I am curious as to why I could hear, though," Edward said, thumb brushing over her hand.

"I have no idea." She shrugged, and shook her head. "I've been a mess, and up and down and all over the place emotionally."

Edward "hmm'd," softly. "Maybe that's it. Your emotional state is more fluid—"

"I don't want you to hear my thoughts, Edward." She'd blurted it out. "Not these days."

The fingers squeezed again. "I'm not trying to find a way to listen, Bella. I'm trying to understand so I can't."

"OK." Of course he was. And she had doubted him. "OK," she said again, nodding.

He squeezed her fingers again, then paused momentarily. "Pizza's here. Eat here, or downstairs?"

She looked at the immaculate room, and said, "Downstairs...alone? Just us?"

"Sure."

The pizza had been brought in, and left on the kitchen island. The house's other occupants were conspicuously absent.

"Where is everyone?" Bella whispered.

"Giving us some space."

The food helped, and when Edward brought out a glass of juice, she made herself drink it.

"Better?"

"A bit."

She looked at the clock, shocked to see it was only eight, and then leaned back in her chair.

"I have school tomorrow."

The thought of having to attend class, and pretend to be normal, and functional made her want to cry all over again.

Edward had sat beside her, hands on the table, where he toyed with one of the candles there. "It's normal, Bella. What you're feeling."

"Thank you," she said carefully. "You've been really wonderful at reassuring me, it's just," she sighed. "I'd...rather be my normal self. Not falling apart all the time."

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you think of as your normal self." He smiled at this, daring to take her hand again. "But until then, Carlisle could probably write you a note excusing you from school."

She chuckled. "Doctor sanctioned hookey. No, but thank you. I need to catch up. I missed a lot while I was...gone." She thought about her backpack, and school things, homework not done.

"What?" he asked.

"My bag. School stuff. Homework. It's not here, and it's not done."

"No problem."

"What, you gonna do my homework for me?"

He grinned wickedly. "Not needing sleep has its advantages."

She laughed. "I'll just face the music tomorrow, but right now, I think I should get to bed, so I can get my stuff in the morning."

He shook his head. "One of us can go get your things and your truck."

"Vampire valets," she said, chuckling.

He leaned over, taking advantage of her proximity, and absorbing her laughter with his lips. Without breaking the contact, he scooped her up, pushing the chair away with his foot, carrying her upstairs.

His arms made a cold cradle that countered the heat his touch always drew from her.

"Time for bed then, sleeping beauty?"

After he whispered this, he stole her air again.

When the kiss ended, Bella found herself in his room again, blinking, and woozy.

"Whoa."

"There are some things for you in the top two drawers," he said, pointing to the dresser by the ensuite door.

"Thanks," she mumbled, still feeling like the ground was teetering under her feet.

"You can thank Alice tomorrow, yourself," he said, taking her hand and walking her towards the dresser. Then he opened it, and looked inside, eyebrows sweeping up his forehead, "Or not. I'll give you a few minutes."

When he left, and Bella looked in the drawer, she understood the comment. There were clothes inside, and nightclothes too, but all with brand names she didn't recognize, and equally unfamiliar fabrics. Each of the tags read "hand wash" or "dry-clean" only.

She selected the most conservative set of night clothes she could find: a camisole top with an unnecessarily adventurous neckline, and shorts that gave extra brevity to the term. Despite the lack of coverage, the fabric was soft and comfortable, and it suited the warmth of the evening.

She found what she needed in the bathroom, and when she returned, Edward was sitting on the couch, a book in hand.

He swallowed, when he caught sight of her.

She stopped, wishing she'd looked for a robe.

He put the book down, and stood, meeting her at the edge of the bed. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"You're not staying?" She regretted it immediately. What did she expect, for him to watch her sleep? He'd stayed that first night, but…

"If it's OK, yes." His hands rested lightly on her hips, fingers shifting subtly, like they wanted to venture further.

"I do, please."

Now it was her turn to lift herself up on her tiptoes and kiss him.

He moaned into it, hitching her up onto the bed, so that her legs made space for him, standing as she sat. She felt the tip of his tongue tracing the edge of her lips, and opened her mouth, tasting him. His hands stayed on her hips, their pull keeping their bodies tight together.

Her fingers danced up his chest to his hair, where they played in its coppery depths.

The groan she made loosed his grip and icy hands traced the curve of her spine and scapula.

He'd been perfectly still, beyond the movement of his hands, and lips, but this was slowly changing as her own form softened against his harder one. She leaned back against the support of his hands, making sounds she'd not made before, feeling things in places she was sure he didn't want her feeling them.

Not yet, anyway.

Seconds, or minutes, or the substance of an hour could have passed. She wasn't sure, and she didn't care. Being with him was a heavenly suspension in time.

So when he pulled away, with a soft, "This is not sleeping," it dragged out a dissatisfied growl from her throat.

"No," she had to agree. "It isn't. It feels way better than sleep ever could."

"Mmm," he offered, noncommittally, toying with a strand of her hair.

With a sigh, she pulled back the covers, and slipped under them. Then she held out her hand for him. He joined her on the bed, but on top of the covers, her fingers resting in his icy ones.

Her "Night," was interrupted by a yawn, and sleep stole conscious worries from her soon after.

There were flickers of waking through the night, when she turned and found herself flung into an unexpected, but reassuringly cold shape that shifted to accommodate her.

When she woke, it was early, the sky bright and the birds noisy.

The house was silent, and she was very cold, despite the covers over her.

The hard and cold body she found herself pressed against shifted slightly, snaking an arm under her.

"Hi," she tried tentatively, voice rough with the night's rest.

"Morning." He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. "No nightmares."

"Not that I remember, no."

"Good." His lips skimmed the top of her head in a cool kiss.

Her shiver had nothing to do with temperature.

"Why don't I let you get ready, get you breakfast."

"You don't need to, I can—"

"I'd like to make you breakfast."

She paused before answering, keeping herself to a simple, and what she hoped was a grateful, "OK."

Her clothes from the day before were too grimy from unpacking and cleaning to be worn again, so she approached the dresser with some trepidation. Pawing through the contents she found a pair of jeans, and the simplest shirt possible. It looked strange, cut at odd angles, the soft fabric a startlingly deep blue.

When she found the underwear and bras, a whispered, and horrified, "Oh my God," slipped from her lips.

She wasn't sure if she heard someone laughing downstairs, and decided she didn't want to know. It sounded like Emmett's voice.

Showered and dressed, she walked down the stairs, lured by the tantalizing smells wafting from the kitchen.

Edward was at the island, lifting a frying pan off of the blue-flamed cooktop.

He lifted his chin towards the table, where a single place was set, a glass of juice already there.

"So, what would it take to convince you to take the day off of school?" he asked, sitting across from her.

Her smile stretched wide across her face. "With you, not much, but I should go." She thought of how things remained unresolved with Sally, and the classes she'd already missed. It was stressful, thinking of it all, but the kind of stress she welcomed—normal, everyday stress that seventeen year olds were meant to deal with.

"I've got work, too."

Edward's expression flickered.

"That's your 'I disapprove' face."

Now he smiled at her. "No, not at all. I'm concerned."

"Why?"

"You had a panic attack last night, Bella. You're putting yourself under a lot of stress. Taking a day off of school is not a bad thing."

"The day after I'm emancipated? No."

"A doctor's note would resolve that."

"Are you going to write that too?"

"No, Carlisle would." He sounded certain.

"I can't hide from my life, Edward."

"I'm not suggesting you do. Just take a day to rest. Feel safe. Go to work. Maybe see your counsellor before hand."

Ah.

"I have an appointment to see her tomorrow."

She took a bite of breakfast, not looking too closely at it, wanting to forestall more conversation about counsellors and therapy.

What she really needed was to be busy, to lose herself in ordinary things—like school, and work, and getting the house set up.

Edward didn't press any further on this topic, instead asking, "Does it taste OK?"

"Amazing, as always. Thank you. And for dinner, too."

"Happy to," he replied, and then glanced at the clock. "If you are determined to go to school, you should go soon."

She nodded, heart heavy at leaving him.

"Would you like company tonight?" he asked.

"You have to ask?" She grinned.

"I like to," he replied softly. "Because I want you to have a life, Bella, not just me."

"And who would you expect me to see this evening?"

"Maybe your friends?"

"See them at school. Maybe even at work."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Mike can't be a friend?" Her eyebrows went up, wondering if it would bother him.

"Your friends are your own," he assured her. "He just struck me as...not someone you were close to."

"We're not. And he isn't a close friend at all. Just checking to make sure you're not jealous."

"Oh, I am. Trust me. Of all your friends. They're human." He shrugged. "Hard not to be."

"They're no competition to you, for company, or anything else."

"Then parting is indeed a sweet sorrow."

She wanted to roll her eyes. Who quoted Shakespeare?

But she didn't.

She wanted him to keep going, and to lean forward, and—

"Off to school?" Carlisle's voice asked. He was walking into the kitchen, his own coat on, plucking his keys from the hook in the cabinet.

"Yeah," Bella breathed, recovering.

"You know the way from here?"

"I think so."

"Why don't I follow, so Edward can go with you? Just to be sure?"

"If you don't mind?" She looked at Edward.

"You have to ask?"

Now she chuckled. "Guess that's my answer."

She did wonder why they wanted to go with her, but didn't press the point.

When Edward leaned down to kiss her in the parking lot full of students, she didn't question that he was making a very public statement.

"Worried about all that human competition, huh?"

"Not anymore, I'm not," he murmured. "I'll see you later." Then he was gone, sliding into Carlisle's waiting car, and she was alone, leaning against the side of her truck, watching them disappear.

"Hey," a familiar voice called.

"Sally," Bella said, looking at her friend. Sally's face was pinched with worry, and she had her arms wrapped around her books.

Bella knew that bodily expression. She didn't even think to hesitate, but moved forward, arms open in invitation.

Sally rushed into it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into Bella's chest. "For freaking out on you the other day."

"You didn't," Bella said. "It's OK. You had an awful time. I had less. I wish I could have taken some of that from you."

The warning bell rang out, and they stayed in their embrace, until Sally pulled away. "We should go. Don't want to be the falling ex-whores now, do we?"

Bella smiled. "Nope. We're academically excellent whores."

Both of them snorted at their dark humour, and then began walking towards their respective buildings.

At lunch, Jessica said, "So, you and Edward Cullen, huh Bella?"

"Mmm," she said noncommittally, chewing her apple.

"Seems to be pretty serious," Jessica went on, looking over at Mike.

Bella only nodded politely to Jessica, not wanting to give her more information than she needed.

Mike didn't exactly frown, but hid his expression in a mouthful of food.

"You must've spent the night with him, to arrive together?" Jessica added.

Everyone else at the table looked at Jessica briefly, and then away.

Bella blushed angrily, still intently chewing.

"How're things with the Blacks?" Angela asked, clearly trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I moved out, so I'm not exactly sure."

"You moved out?" Mike asked, his voice tinged with surprise, and a smidgen of envy.

Bella nodded, wishing everyone would just talk about, or to, someone else.

"Really?" Sally asked quietly, beside her.

Bella glanced at Sally, eyes full of information.

Sally nodded, understanding exactly what had precipitated it. Her own minute shake of her head told Bella that all was well in her own home.

"Think I'm going to get to class early," Bella mumbled, standing.

"See you at work later!' Mike called, as she walked away.

They were halfway through an eyelid drooping lecture on the Great Depression when the classroom phone's ring startled the entire class out of their afternoon stupor.

"Uh-huh," the teacher mumbled into the receiver. "Bella, can you go to the office, please?"

Bella looked up at the teacher warily, wondering what this summons was about.

When she went to move away from the desk, the teacher said, "Best to take your things."

Bella's stomach dropped. If he expected her to miss the rest of class, this was nothing good.

She walked slowly to the office, bag over her shoulder, trying to produce good, and rational reasons for this summons.

She hadn't come up with any, so when the office came in view, and she saw the familiar shape of a uniformed Mark Barclay, and Pam Stevenson beside him, she froze.

The urge to run was strong, and it became stronger when they turned and saw her.

"Hi Bella," Pam said. "Sorry to bother you at school."

Bella looked at Mark, her breathing becoming shallow and quick.

"Why don't we go inside?" Pam asked gently.

"Why is he here?" Bella growled, remembering the last time Pam had brought a police officer to her door.

"Let's go inside," Pam said again.

"It's nothing bad, Bella, I've just been asked to…" his face twisted, "observe."

There was no way this wasn't bad, but he hadn't moved to block her, or compel her movement.

"You first," Bella said, gesturing ahead of her.

Mark nodded to Pam, and they moved ahead into the principal's office.

"Thank you, Mr. Green, for arranging this," Pam said softly. "So, Bella, unfortunately—"

"I thought you said there was nothing bad?" Bella interrupted.

Pam frowned a bit. "It's not, but your emancipation request was denied by the judge."

"What? I thought—"

"I did too," Pam sighed. "But—"

"The judge had at least seen sense, when he phoned me," Mark interjected, looking at her.

Bella closed her eyes, willing herself not to say what was on her mind.

Pam cleared her throat. "He knew your dad, Bella. He didn't agree with my assessment. I'm sorry."

But Bella was already racing ahead to what the very real implications would be.

"I can't go back to the Blacks."

"I understand," Pam said softly. "But you do need to be in care, and the judge was very clear that this happen today. I've made arrangements for a family in Port Angeles. We can go right now."

"Port Angeles? There must be something closer—I have work, and how am I going to get to school?"

"It's difficult to get long-term placements on short notice, Bella—"

"What if there's a family here that will take me?"

"All the placements here—"

"What about the Cullens?"

"They're registered for short-term, emergency care—"

"What if they say yes?"

"No." Mark said. "No way."

Now Pam looked taken aback by this. Very quietly, she said, "That's not your call Mark."

"What, you want to stick her with some rich kid who'll take advantage of her?"

"He is NOT taking advantage of me!" She stood, punctuating this by pointing her finger at Mark. "You arrested and dragged me off in handcuffs, and you think you're my fucking knight in shining armour? Screw your interfering in my life! You've done enough!"

"Bella—" the principal started.

"No! The Cullens have done nothing but help me—"

"And I'll see if they can take you," Pam said quickly, holding up her hand towards Mark, who was flushed, his jaw clenched.

"You may have worked with my Dad, but that's it," Bella spat at him. "You have no place in my life. None. So back off."

"Call them. Now," Mark growled.

"Pardon?" Pam asked.

"Call them. The judge was very clear. She goes into foster care, and I'm to make sure it happens."

Bella glared at him, and he returned the expression, as Pam pulled out her phone, standing, moving to a corner of the office. Her muffled conversation was short, and Bella's heart was in her throat, seeing it unfold. She felt completely helpless, and despite her angry confrontation with Mark, the familiar terror was making a strong claim on her.

"Dr. Cullen is on his way," Pam said, sitting down again.

The Principal had watched all this silently, but now spoke. "Do you need to get anything, before you head home today, Bella?" He looked at Pam, and then Mark, his eyebrows up.

"Yes," she said, and then stood.

"I'll go with you," Mark said, standing too.

Bella determined that biting her tongue was probably in her best interests, but Mark's form, following too closely behind her, made her turn and snap at him. "What is your problem with me? Going to make sure I don't commit any crimes on the way to my locker?"

"I just want to make sure you're safe, Bella. That you're OK."

"And you think hassling me, and not letting me live my life are going to help with that?"

They'd reached her locker, and she was stuffing books into her bag.

"I think making sure you have adults around to help you is good, yes. And your father would have my hide if I did less for any kid that's been through what you have, let alone his."

She stood, facing him. "My father's dead. You don't get to say what he'd want, but you can sure as hell listen to what I do. I don't want you interfering in my life, and abusing your authority to do it."

He leaned in, so that he was an uncomfortable few inches from her face. "I will do right by your dad, Bella, even if you don't like it. And if I need to use my badge to get it done, I'll do that to. Keep your nose clean. Live your life. Make him proud. I won't bother you for any of it."

"Yeah. I'm sure he'd be thrilled that I'm living with my boyfriend than in my own house."

Mark's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as they walked back towards the office.

In the distance, two perfect forms walked towards them at pointedly human paces: Edward, and Carlisle.

All the anger left her, and it was relief, and then an embarrassing urge to cry that took up residence in its place.

That was not happening in front of Mark.

Inside the main office again, Pam and Carlisle engaged in a quiet conversation over the paperwork she'd pulled from her bag.

Edward had only greeted her silently, eyes full of worry, and then squeezed her hand in his.

Mark kept shooting them disapproving looks from his side of the room.

"That's everything," Pam said. "Bella, if there are any concerns, please call me."

Bella refused to take the card she offered. She'd had enough of the woman's help.

"Thank you," Carlisle said to her, and then to Bella and Edward. "Let's go."

She made it out to the parking lot before the tears started. They were a trickle, and then a steady stream, and then choking volley.

Leaning against her truck, Edward was beside her, as she began to talk. "Just give me a minute, OK?" After a moment, she wiped at her eyes again. "Alright. I am trying to convince myself that I am not complicated set of problems—"

"You are not a problem, and this will be over with soon enough. Just a few months, and you don't have to worry about a social worker, or the police, or the court case, or anything."

Carlisle had hung back, but approached now. "School's almost done, and we'll have company soon."

Bella breathed in, and then out. "I should go to work."

"No," Carlisle said.

Bella blinked at him in surprise, and then opened her mouth to protest, but Carlisle interrupted her. "I want you to think about what just happened, Bella."

Bella had done nothing but.

"You've just been handed over to our care, and what happens right now is very important, because I guarantee you that Mark is going to make sure we dot our i's and cross our t's when it comes to doing everything we should. And to have you go to work when you're clearly upset? No."

"I'm fine to go to work. People have bad days, Carlisle."

"Edward," Carlisle said, as if his name alone carried significance.

Beside her, Edward sighed. "It's not just for that, Bella, but because it brings scrutiny to us, and that's something we work very, very hard to avoid."

This brought her up short. Of course. She spoke softly. "But I need to work, I can't—"

"You don't," Edward said just as quietly. "You don't need to worry about anything financially—"

"I do not need to be anyone's charity case,—"

"You're not," he said, turning to face her. "You're a part of our family, in every sense. What could you possibly need, that we wouldn't provide for you?"

She shook her head. "School—"

"I'd be happy to pay for that."

"You—"

He pressed his finger to her lips, then spread his fingers out over her face, cupping her cheek. "Not something you have to worry about now. No work today, but just for today. Seeing your counsellor, though, would be most expected, and perhaps asking if you can have a shift tomorrow instead of today? I'm sure they'd understand, all things considered. Particularly if your foster-father makes the request?"

This made sense, much as she wanted to rail against this barrier to employment, and emancipation.

She pushed out a trusting, "OK"

And so, she found herself driving with Edward towards Charlotte's office, wondering what other parts of her world were going to seismically shift, leaving her straddling the space between expectation and reality.