Author Note: Yatta!An update!\(o-o)/ - That is me attempting to mimic Hiro BTW.

It feels like forever since I've updated. It has definitely been a long time, too long. (Glares at textbooks). It might be better this summer... or not… with my job(s) and class I'm taking…weee! -_-

I started this in December, wrote a bit more during Spring Break, and now finally, I can post something. I wrote many of the scenes in this chapter many times, but they never turned out the way I wanted them to. I'm still not thrilled with the result now, so I apologize in advance if this chapter disappoints in anyway.

Hopefully my updates won't take forever in the future, but with me it is rather hard to tell. I am looking forward to working on the next chapter if anyone recalls that I mentioned the story should be picking up a bit. Should be interesting… Well, onto the story…

Claire: You won't leave me, will you, Mr. Muggles?

Season 2, Episode 11: "Powerless"

Part Thirteen:

Steam wafts up the smell of the beverage, but in no way do I find it appealing. Bleary eyed, I stare dubiously at the hot cup of coffee that I hold between my hands. Hesitantly, I take a sip, and then grimace in disgust, wondering how on earth anyone could drink this on a regular basis. It was unusual to me, but I'd seen my parents grind up the coffee beans and heat up the water enough times to know what I'm doing. At least I think. Regardless, I certainly wouldn't be drinking this if I wasn't so tired.

After the dream I had last night, I been unable to fall back asleep. I put that one song on repeat until the sun had risen over the distant hills as I was lost in thought. When I heard the first stirring in the house, I got ready myself and even checked my e-mail only to find an empty inbox. Jacob still hadn't replied to me. It didn't bother me, though really, not much did because I was so tired. Yet strangely, I was also rather looking forward to school.

Right now, I'm walking through the crowded halls of the high school, making my way to Biology class. I greet Edward as I sit down by him, setting my book bag and coffee down. He doesn't acknowledge me, but stares at the table, seeming rather moody, which isn't a good sign. I sigh and take out my pencil, notebook, and text book. Mr. Banner is about to start the lesson but then a student asks a question about the homework and then other students voice their confusion as well. Mr. Banner gives his own sigh, and then proceeds to explain what should have already been understood by this point. I mentally groan as I felt the homework had been easy.

I glance at Edward briefly. It feels like I haven't seen him in forever though it's only been a weekend. I want to ask him about the song, that one that can't seem to stop running through my head. I've been excited to see him again and talk over it like old friends, and if the sentimentality wasn't pathetic enough, the cold shoulder he giving me now like we have never even met before is rather off putting.

I look away, jot down some notes of some information Mr. Banner is repeating that I already know, sigh, and take another sip of my coffee, grimacing.

Edward looks up from the obviously fascinating table, raising an eyebrow at me. "You do not usually drink coffee." He observes.

"Brilliant deduction Holmes, tell me more." I roll my eyes, feeling slightly snappish from my lack of sleep, and from Edward's lack of acknowledgement of my presence.

He isn't affected at all by my sarcasm, which is not unusual. "You have no sugar or cream in it." He asserts; his eyes unblinking. His lips curve upward ever so slightly.

Trying to let my irritability from being ignored a few moments ago seep away, I crack a smile. "You're right." I feel more annoyed at myself now. Why do I care if he talks to me or not? Why do I have to keep thinking about him? I hate how he seems to just get under my skin, intentionally or not.

Not knowing where to look at these thoughts flood my mind, I give my cup a look of disdain, realizing that I did forget the cream and sugar which would explain the bitter taste. "I knew it was missing something." I mutter and look back to Edward. "How'd you know?"

"The grimace gave it away." He uncharacteristically supplies. "Tired?"

"Very," I push the cup across the table from me. I just couldn't stand it and the caffeine didn't seem to be kicking in. "My coffee is defective." I explain.

Edward cracks a full smile of his own. My heart swells slightly at his positive mood change and my smile matches his. It feels right somehow when we're smiling together, just sitting here with Edward, something that is ordinary yet feels special. It is funny; I think that I actually missed him a little this weekend perhaps…rather strange… Maybe the coffee is having unknown side effects…

It just never can seem to last. Edward's features settle back into that contemplative look he wore when I first entered class. His eyes do not leave my face, so intent, like they are trying to read me, yet also guarded. It is not the kind of stare that makes me feel out of place even though color comes to my cheeks. It was rather like a less extreme version of the way he seemed last time I saw him. The way he looked at me, touched me, how I reacted… He had felt so open, then just as suddenly reserved, closed off. How could he go from sending electric impulses across my skin as he looked deeply into my eyes to backing away as if he did not feel the same connection I had?

All of that was another matter entirely I conclude, as I throw up a mental barrier in an attempt to block it all out. Go for normal, I tell myself, that it best for now. So I give Edward a friendly smile as I try to think of some topic I can talk about with him that won't seem forced.

His voice comes out softly, yet inquisitively, voicing what I had been dying to ask him. "What did you think of the song?"

Instinctively I evade. "What song?" I ask, playing innocent. I bite my tongue after saying this and drop my eyes, feeling foolish. Of course I know that he knows that I know. I actually do want to ask him about the song as it has been heavy on my mind; however, because I'm always so close to the edge I immediately back pedal, even if it is not what I had originally intended.

"Claire," He says slowly, sounding older than his years, making me look back up. The emotions that are in his eyes are cloudy and can't be read; yet they silently reprimand me for my evasion. My own eyes can't look away, and I can't lie, nor do I want to. Slowly, I lower my guard.

"It was," Enigmatic, beautiful, stormy, passionate, dark, forbidden… "like…" My words trail off as my mind finishes the sentence for me. It was like him, me, both of us… It reminded me of our similar yet clashing personalities. How is that? It did though; it seemed personal, close to me, yet not entirely of me but of another as well. It makes sense on so many levels even though it shouldn't.

It is like Edward can peer inside my mind, like he knew what I just thought for he moves away, closes his eyes and closes me out.

I have to know. "Edward, who was the song by?" I softly inquire, not letting any of the sudden urgency I feel enter my voice or be displayed on my face.

"I do not know." He says, trying to shrug it off. But I know he knows. I mean, he just said "I do not know." How can he not know? This is Edward. He may have lied to me in the past but I am not as assuredly aware of it as I am now. That is just weird, not the lying part but him being a little too obvious about it. Edward seems to realize this as well and looks away. We both know, but neither of us will directly address it.

The silence reigns for a moment. I consider how to play this. I would rather not be sucked into his moodiness and he does not seem sociable at all right now. In fact he seems to have a lot on his mind even though he did make a little conversation with me. I don't know what to make of it so I decide to leave him alone for now even if part of me does want to talk with him. After all, he has dropped uncomfortable subjects for me before. I suppose I could return the favor.

So I do, I let him be as he nonverbally requests. We go through today's lab in perfect synchronization, only a word here and an answer there. I cannot help but feel a different kind of atmosphere around us than that of those previous; it is not as electric as it is tense and thick.

I sneak a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He works with a skilled precision as he hardly acknowledges my presence, looking totally unperturbed.

Is this the person the rest of the school sees, cold, precise, and beautiful? I know better, I've seen the laughter, the thoughtfulness, and vulnerability. He is more than what he shows. One can see it when they start to get to know him, when he lets them in. So why is he shutting me out now?

What was with him? Why does he run so hot and cold? Was it something I did the last time we saw each other? Maybe it had something to do with how I acted just now? What the hell, why am I thinking it is my fault? He is the one who is acting bi-polar.

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. Students hastily clean up their areas as Mr. Banner assigns the homework for tomorrow. I slip my textbook, notebook, and pencil back into my bag as I stand up from my seat. Students file past, but I snag the sleeve of one in particular. He stops, feeling the slight pull, but does not face me. The class is empty now; Mr. Banner and the other students are gone. In their absence the atmosphere seems to expand to hang heavy across the room.

I chew on my bottom lip, not entirely sure as to what I am doing; all I know is that something has changed between us and I want to fix it. It feels like we are treading on the brink of something unknown, the depth of the fall could be an illusion, all I know is that before it was safer, and safe is the option I must choose, but even still…

Possibilities swirl about my head, questions to seek better understanding of such a confusing situation, or answers I could also supply to clear the air. Being serious, inquisitive, and telling the truth are not my only options; a simple light comment would sooth, but I cannot fix what I do not know is broken. Those eyes that looked so deeply in mine the last time we saw one another asked me a question. I cannot answer, for I do not know what I had been asked. I wonder if I did, would I even want to respond. What I do know is that I do not want to lose this semblance of friendship we have. Haven't I lost enough already?

I let go of my hold and he does not leave yet. "Hey Edward," I play with the strap of my bag. I'm not sure exactly what I'm trying to achieve with this. "So I was thinking about our trip to Seattle…" My tone sounds forced to my own ears. It feels like façade, and my attempts at lightness undoubtedly do not go unnoticed by him, not that he gives any indication, nor does it staunch my efforts. "How about this weekend? Is Saturday good?"

A second passes, then another. I shift on my feet, feeling the silence broaden. I move so that I can see his face. His jaw clenches and he angles his face downward as if he does not notice my presence. He speaks then, not meeting my eyes, his voice whisper soft. "I do not believe that would be a …prudent idea."

While his word choice was strange, this answer was not entirely unexpected. I could sense it. I should leave it alone. My mouth opens anyways as I simultaneously press, yet try to smooth it over; pretending I don't understand what I do all too well, for it is something I should have done from the start.

"Not a good time huh? We could always go later." I offer. Why can't I shut up?

His voice is firmer now, his face set. "No, Claire, you misunderstand me."

"Well say what you mean." I hope that he won't, he'll just forget it and come. I don't like that martyred look in his eyes, and where this is going. I need to back track, rewind; yet it feels like grains of sand slipping through the cracks in hands and I know this has been swept out of my control.

His voice has found its firmness as he speaks without a trace of emotion. "I don't think we should associate with one another outside of required school related activities." He speaks bluntly, saying what he had been trying to indirectly imply.

He does not wait for assent to his command, he simply walks off as if he assumes, just knows that I will do as he wishes. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn't look back, not once.

Thus the precedence was set for the rest of the week. My hopes of his potential insincerity were dashed. The next day he did not respond when I said hello. One would almost think that he was literally unaware of my presence save the minimal interaction required for us to function adequately as lab partners. When the bell rang, he was the first one out the door. At lunch, he would sit with his family in such a way that no open seats were left open next to him. I never saw him in the halls, or before or after school. He remained true to his word, not associating with me at all, just like in the beginning.

Its Thursday now; the fourth day since Edward decided to blow me off. I harshly dump my bag and purse on my bed and kick off my school shoes, flopping down on my bed. I have just got home from school and am frustrated; mostly at Edward's actions, but also at my reactions.

I frown at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling, resisting the temptation to rip every one of the stupid pieces of plastic off. I turn on my side and stare off into space, angry also at myself for letting Edward's antics work me up. It is rather disconcerting how in the middle of English class his face will pop into my mind, taunting me. I have real heavy matters on my mind to contend with, so why is this pointless non issue refusing to leave me? No matter how hard I push him out of my thoughts that same way Edward apparently has no trouble doing to me, he always circles back around. My only defense is to keep busy and leave well enough alone.

Homework and studying can only last so long. Our house has never looked quite so clean before. (Won't Dad be thrilled when he comes home from his business trip). Lyle is more annoying than diverting. I haven't touched my stereo since Monday for obvious reasons. Often I've checked my e-mail, mostly receiving messages from Jessica going off about something, or some spam filling up my inbox, or sometimes a combination of both. Jacob has yet to reply, nor have I seen Seth or Leah around, and I'm beginning to feel that I'm being blown off on more than one end.

One thing about going through what I have is that it really helps to put life in perspective. I leap off my bed, refusing to let such petty problems seem like such big issues. My gym clothes are put on, my running shoes laced up, and my iPod snatched off my nightstand. Slamming the front door feels immensely satisfying as my feet beat a rhythm down the front steps and onto the pavement.

I slip my head phones over my ears as I turn the corner. Skimming through my artist menu, I hover over Debussy, and then frown. Hmmm, let me think about it… Do I really want to listen to music by playboy guy who had affairs, lovers, and who drove one girl to the brink of suicide? Of course this fact is going to come to mind now… No, I definitely don't want to even think of that right now.

I run down another street. The shuffle button is pressed instead. The music begins. I've heard this one around enough to know how it goes, so I hum along under my breath. A smirk plays at the corner of my mouth as I think of the irony of me finding something relatable in a pop song.

You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
Yeah you, PMS
Like a bitch
I would know

And you over think

Always speak
Cryptically

Yes, definitely Edward. Images drift past in succession in my mind: him staring out into the overcast sky, lost in thought. Edward, with that inquisitive gleam in his eye and that arch of his brow… Edward, as he plays his games, twisting around and twisting me up. Edward… Together, we dance to a song we don't know the words to, tip toeing forward and leaping back. With him a word is a double edged sword, and with him I do not know which way it will swing.

I should know
That you're no good for me

Okay, that does it. I click the forward button. I can't even listen to my freaking iPod without somehow tying it in with him. I go on a run for the express purpose of getting him out of my head. This is so pathetic. It is like somewhere in the back of my mind I think that if I just avoid this it will all go away. If I just run, maybe I might go fast enough that the secrets, feelings, lies, and truths will be blown from my skin, lost in my fading foot prints, leaving me free.

But it doesn't work like that. It is about time I admitted that to myself. There is a reason this hasn't slipped from my mind. It is because I care, because for once, someone here seemed to almost see the real me, and I wanted that, desperately so. I saw something in him that was so foreign, yet strangely familiar. It is why that mysterious song meant something to me, just as it must have with Edward. Because while I'm dancing around the edges, just out of reach; I've closed my eyes to him mirroring my movements.

I stop running.

"…then he kissed me in the car before I got out. It was more a peck than a full…"

I hold in the sigh that is dying to escape my lips. My brain is fatigued from the spinning wheels going round and the nervous energy that flits through my system. Too many thoughts, what ifs, and whys beg to be answered. I fidget in my seat, and finish one of the turrets. My castle of cold mashed potatoes manned by my green peas has been coming along nicely. Other stuff not so much. I don't know whether to pursue the issue, or leave it at rest.

"…I'm not sure what that means. He hasn't called in the past two days. But yeah so…"

Edward was relaxed at his table with his family, looking totally unaffected as he interacted with them. Later, he dumped his untouched lunch, walking right past the table of freshmen girls who all started to nudge their neighbors and turn scarlet. Then he moved to exit the cafeteria, jacket slung over one shoulder, face impassive as stone. He walked right by my table also, but didn't spare me a glance.

I kept my own gaze rooted to the plate in from me as I consider…should I? Consequences, benefits, risks…

Jessica stops mid ramble. She seems to realize that she has lost me. "Helloooo?" Jessica snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Someone deprived of their caffeine this morning?"

"Sorry, I zoned out there for a moment." I give an apologetic smile.

"I think it was for longer than a moment." Jessica pouts.

Angela, who is becoming notorious to me for being as perceptive as a certain Cullen, looks at me from behind her glasses. "Not hungry either?" She asks as she witnesses me line some of my peas along the one of the mashed potato walls.

One pea falls off and rolls across the table. I catch it and pop it into my mouth in a non convincing attempt to show them that I was capable of eating if so inclined (pressured). I just wasn't. And now I'm acting like the Cullens…

Quickly I lay siege to one tower with my fork, stuffing load of the unappetizing mass into my mouth that I chew with forced vigor.

Jessica sniffs and rolls her eyes, becoming quickly bored. Her attention drifts off across the cafeteria. "Ooh, they have muffins!" She picks up her tray and practically skips away.

"Muffins?" I turn in my seat and see Jessica talking to Mike by the food line. I turn back. "Ah."

Angela, thoughtful as always, tilts her head to the side as her eyes stay on me. Words are on her lips, and I know if spoken they will penetrate deep. Someone like her is wonderful and dangerous. She notices the inconsistencies but has no idea what they lead to. I will not be the one to lead her down that path.

I stand up quickly, "Well I'm done." I give a wave and force a smile. "See you later."

Getting up from the table, I leave Angela and dump my tray as I exit the cafeteria into the near empty halls. Funny, this reminds me of that time when I first heard my mysterious piano player. I have yet to figure who he or she is. I wonder if I will.

And with that thought, I decide to make a detour to the music room, mostly because I have time to kill, and also because I don't really feel like getting a mind probe from Angela. When I arrive, I find that as usual at this time, the room is empty. Not even my mysterious piano player is here to distract me.

Slowly, as to not disturb the peaceful quiet that contrasts so harshly with my turbulent thoughts, I step into the room, making my way to the grand piano. I sit down on the plush velvet seat and open the lid carefully, brushing my fingertips over the ivory keys. That song I heard from the virtuoso had been enchanting, enigmatic, and completely beautiful, yet I wonder how it would be to have he or she played the nameless song Edward had given me on the CD. I could just imagine the faceless person sitting here, fingers flying across keys, evoking rich sounds that would fill the air.

A breeze brushes ever so gently through my hair. In surprise, I look up to see that the window had been left open a crack. I take pause not because of this, but of the person I see outside across the parking lot inside a Volvo. I stand and walk up to the window to get a better view, one hand against the glass, knowing there is more than this physical substance that separates us.

It figures that he is out there alone, shutting himself out from everyone else, similar to my own actions. And there I go again, comparing all our similarities when I should really be concentrating on the differences and all the reasons as to not do the very thing I had been strictly warned of and have been considering.

This is for the better. I know this. I should take this opportunity the cards have dealt me and choose to see it as is. This could be to my advantage for he initiated this himself. It could be broken off with no covers compromised.

But I don't want that. This, us, whatever together we are is something unique. I have never met anyone like him, not even close. How we interact, how for once around someone I feel that I might be able to be all of me, can see through me, but not crush the flower held between his hands. And I have to wonder, a feeling such as this cannot blossom unless it is similarly planted on the other side. So how can he simply walk away? There is more brimming under the surface than I can see. Perhaps, it can be tipped. If I play it right, if he lets me, if he can trust me.

And that is a gamble I'm willing to take. I have to try to work this out with him, and if not, maybe we could achieve some kind of closure. It is time to call an end to this dance; otherwise I'll be left fumbling in the dark, unsure of just what I am avoiding. And if I don't try, he will just continue to dominate my thoughts, and it will be harder to let go of whatever this is. I don't have to know what it is he hides. If he could leave that similar aspect of me alone as well, then we could get along and not give up what we were beginning to have. Maybe it isn't too late.

His eyes asked me a question, and I want to know what it is.

I close the window and turn away. Turning off the light and entering the hallway, I make my way outdoors. My heartbeat seems strong in my ears as each step I take my mind screams at me is one I should take back. Somehow that voice becomes muted in my head as I near his car, my breathe coming surprisingly steady.

I stand out right by his window, watching him. Edward apparently does not notice my approach for his eyes are closed as he is relaxed in the driver seat. It seems odd that he does not know I'm here. It is so un-Edward-like. Taking a deep breath, I tap lightly on the window.

Nothing.

I tap a little harder.

One hand moves to roll down the window a crack. He doesn't even bother to open his eyes to give me at least that much consideration.

My finger nails dig into my palm as I spit out the one thing that had been heavy on my mind, not quite the way I imagined myself initiating this conversation. "Why?"

"Why what?" He irksomely replies; his tone bored.

He knows what I mean. "Everything!" Why does he have to make this so hard? Oh, right. Memory relapse, I must have forgotten who I was dealing with.

His eyes open, the colors darker than I remember as they slide over to my direction. "Unfortunately, I do not have the answers to everything. Anyone claiming otherwise is lying."

Typical Edward answer. "You lied."

"Did I?" Those darkened pools pin me.

"You didn't mean it," I don't look away. "I could see it in your eyes. They may hold secrets, but they never lie."

My use of his own past words gives him pause; the fake lightness starts to slip again. "Tell me Claire, why do you care?"

I take in a deep breath as I unleash a bit of truth. "You're the abstract thinker, like you said in class. I get it now. I am too, you recognized it in me. You see life different, I don't know why but you do, and I do too."

"Those were nothing more than idle ponderings." He begins to look away again.

"We both know they weren't." My eyes snag his, refusing to let go.

Edward surprises me when he leisurely gets out of his car and softly closes the door behind him as he faces me, another barrier taken down. "You are correct; they were careful observations." He doesn't even blink.

"Then you admit it." I begin.

Once again, as is so typical for us, one of us pushes…

"I admit nothing."

…And the other pushes back.

One step forward, two steps back. Damn frustrating…

I throw my hands up. "What are we doing?" Isn't it time for these pretenses to be stripped away? Doesn't he realize that we do not have to press and probe? We could simply remain like before…

He moves slowly forward, making me back up, bumping me into his car. I glare at his imposing feet which take up my standing room. His words cut through my half formed arguments. "I know what I'm doing, and can guess as to what you are also attempting. However, I don't think you know what you are getting yourself into."

My mouth opens to protest, but that apologetic softness that has entered his features gives me pause. "Claire, you notice the inconsistencies, but do not know what they lead to. I will not be the one to lead you down that path."

That sounds vaguely familiar…

"I understand what it is you wish for, because it is something I have wished myself. But it is not within our natures to have it. This we also know."

His fingers run through a tendril of my blond hair. He looks far away. "I could ask of you so much, but how fair would that be if you did not understand the questions." His eyes flicker on me ever so briefly. "So Claire, I'll say this once and I know that with you I will not have to become too specific for you to understand as to what I imply. If we were the only two factors involved in this little chess game of ours I would consider an exchange of," His cool breathe hits by my ear… "Secrets." …sending a shiver racing through me, my eyes slipping shut for a fraction of a second.

He pulls away, stepping backward faster than my eyes fluttered closed. "We aren't the only two pieces on the board. We might think we're expendable, but our actions will affect more than ourselves."

My frustration begins to leak out. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't understand. You really should be more specific."

"Then I apologize, currently it is the best answer I can supply you. Now you really ought to head back inside, you are shivering."

For once it isn't due to the cold. "Aren't you cold?" I ask for the sake of it, not knowing what else to say. I rub my arms, my reasons for coming out here notwithstanding the act of being put into words.

"Yes."

I raise a brow. I can hear the bell faintly ring from the school. "Aren't you going to class?"

"No."

"You're skipping again?"

"Yes."

What is with the one worded responses? Is he so ready to be rid of me? Fine! Screw this!

I turn around and start walking back, my hands shoved deep in my jean pockets.

"Claire,"

"What?" I can't help but have my voice come out gruff, raw emotions swirling like a whirlpool inside me. I don't know if I just never want to speak to him again and walk away, or if I want to punch him in his smug face.

"Thank you though, for trying."

Wait, he is thanking me?

It hits me how truly foolish I've been. My father was right, I was wrong. The accident I ended up getting myself into wasn't like anything I would have foreseen for myself. I always viewed myself as someone who was steady on my feet. I promised myself I'd never get swept away again like I did with Brody, and how I- And I came so close to trying to bridge the gap, even desperately thought I might actually tell him my- Oh my God I actually thought- What the hell? Have I lost my fucking mind?

I was pretty sure I knew who had stolen it.

"No Edward, thank you."

Author's Note: Out of curiosity, just what do you think will happen next chapter? I've got it all planned out, but I wonder what you all think. Let me know if you want. As always, feel free to say hi, as me a question, or leave a comment.

Oh and one more thing, the song Claire listens to on her is i-Pod is Hot n' Cold by Katy Perry for those that didn't know. I heard it one local radio station and the lyrics became stuck in my head. I drew the connection between Claire and Edward and knew I had to somehow put that in here.

Also, Debussy really was quite the play boy apparently and one woman did try to commit suicide because of him. It went something along those lines which I personally found interesting. I felt compelled to throw that in there somehow too.

Until next time... :)