Author's note: I have a confession. I had almost all of this chapter written out ages ago, but I went on hiatus. I' still on it but I felt bad for having most of the chapter written without giving it to you guys so I hastily tacked on an ending to it and I'm posting it now as two chapters. Sorry if it's not up to scratch. This will have to tide you over until end of term. (P.S. I've already written how this story ends and I LOVE it. I mean, this isn't my favourite project, but I really really like my ending. Hopefully we'll make it that far.)

.

"Perhaps," began Edward, though he really didn't want to. "That if you do go to school today..." (Her insistence, not his) "I ought to drop you off early. The better to avoid the paparazzi," he joked humourlessly.

Her memory flashed to being interrogated two weeks ago for arriving at school in his car and thought it was a good idea.

"We wouldn't want your Chevy to suffer anymore keying," he added.

"That was--? Oh..." She slumped slightly as she made the connection. "Why do they like you so much?" she asked, then gasped. "I'm sorry, that sounded much worse than I meant. I just meant, why are they so... erm, intense, about you."

He heaved a disconsolate sigh. "There's no logical reason for it." A completely illogical one, yes, but he wasn't about to tell her that one. "They just see what they want to see in me. Not that they've noticed, but there are better men in the school than I." All of them, actually.

"At my other school there were guys girls preferred, but it was never this..."

"Frightening?"

She nodded. 'Is it him or just this small town group of girls, I wonder.'

"Are you sure you want to go back today?" he asked her, a bit hopeful she'd changed her mind.

"You just want an excuse to skip more school."

You would too after having done it already for over 30 years of you non-life, he thought bitterly. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm sure. I've missed enough already."

"Fine," he said, defeated, and left the room for her to change.

As planned he dropped her off half an hour early, which gave her time to check in at reception and get a note to get out of gym, and talk to the teachers about missing assignments. Edward, meanwhile, just drove around the city dreading going to school even more than ever. The past two days and nights had been peaceful, but not empty as they usually were. And now he had to go back through the monotony that was high school, and then the night, which was work. C'est la vie... or not.

.

Edward didn't breathe as he entered the biology room, not only because of Mr. Banner's particular stench, but the chemicals with which they were working that day. If it made humans wrinkle their noses in disgust, Edward certainly wasn't going to bother breathing. His partner would just have to assume him rude... which wouldn't be an assumption so much as correct observation. He snorted. Even that wouldn't put her off. Honesty, do girls enjoy being ignored and treated badly? Or are they just so blinded by the image of him in their head that they honestly could see the difference?

"Iz, what happened?" asked Bella's lab partner, loudly enough so that of course the whole room overheard and was now craning their necks to see, or blatantly going up to find out for themselves. Tragedy whores. Gossip vultures. Rumour mongers, the lot of them.

"Oh my god! Izzy!" said a girl. "Are you alright?"

"I had a clumsy moment," she answered. Fortunately Banner interrupted and sent them back to their seats, but not without a curious glance in Bella's direction. He too was curious, but didn't say anything. Edward noticed how writing was a challenge for her, seeing as he had oh so heroically... crushed her clavicle.

He finished his work depressingly soon, as per usual, and amused himself by stroking the black top of the table, seeing how hard he could push on it without splintering the wood. Just another little exercise in limits and control. He'd done it before, with varying degrees of success. Just before or just after a feed, he wasn't as capable, like he was today. He put his things away and began to tap his fingers. Bah-da-da-dum. Bah-da-da-dum.

'We know you fucking finished. Show off,' thought one. Edward rolled his eyes to the clock. Not even close to the end. Bah-da-da-dum.

"So how did it happen?"

"I told you. Clumsy moment. I fell and something heavy fell on top of me." 'Please let it go.'

"What was it?"

"Can we not talk about it? It's really embarrassing," she told him, and gave him a nervous and apologetic smile.

"No no that's cool. Sorry," he said affably. 'Damn it now I really want to know. Embarrassing? What could she have been doing?' Edward removed his mind from the vulgar places the boy's imagination was leading off to. He highly doubted even Kevin actually thought Bella had hurt herself stepping out of the shower, but of course that's where the boy's mind seemed to want to go. They say that men think about sex every six seconds. Actually it was closer to eight. Edward, of all people, would know. Didn't it get tiresome after a while? He rolled his eyes again and checked the time.

When finally, finally, the bell rang, Edward was up and out the door. He was going to hold it open for her, but she was having a hard time packing away her books. He wasn't going to stand around and wait for her so he kicked the rubber stopped under the door and left. It occurred to him later that he might have helped her with her bag, but dismissed the idea as being, one, too obvious, and two, too nice. He wouldn't be doing either of them a favour if people saw him actively helping her. And she needed to learn to get by on her own. He couldn't baby her, nor did he believe would she wished to be babied. She'd be touched by the kind thought, but insulted or embarrassed at appearing incapable.

'Things really shouldn't be this difficult,' he thought. 'No one puts this much thought into how to treat someone else. Save Bella, perhaps.'

As if saying her name in his head triggered some natural response, he jumped over to her thoughts, unaware and unthinking.

She was in pain. He wondered if she would remember to take another ibuprofen, then wondered if he ought to remind her himself. It had only been a vague notion, a mere idea, and yet he found his feet leading him over to her. When he realized what he was doing he promptly stopped and turned around. She can take care of herself; she doesn't need you to badger her. Humans do this all the time, it's common for them to be in pain. They're used to it, they deal with it. You don't hear her complaining do you?

Then again, she was the more 'suffer in silence' type.

He was the first outside that day. Usually he waited (pathetically) so that he could walk by her table as he went to his tree but she wasn't there yet. Again, unbidden, his mind jumped to hers. He found her in the bathroom and immediately wrenched himself out again. Not that he wasn't perfectly aware of human bodily functions, but it wasn't something he'd listen in on if he could at all help it. Sometimes it was unavoidable, like while he had been at her house for example, but in general he tried to give her as much pride preserving privacy as possible. Strange, he wasn't disgusted by it; it was just another part of being human. How could anything so natural disgust him? He was the unnatural one, not her. As far as disgusting habits went, he rather took the cake, to coin a phrase. All in all, killing and drinking blood didn't compare to...

He shook his head.

He'd given urination more thought than it would ever merit.

She finally appeared and he was still standing by her table like a lack-wit. It was awkward enough to meet her eyes after his latest mental ambulation, but he put forth the effort so she wouldn't think he was ignoring her. Although at this point in time he wished he was ignoring her. Or at least capable of it. It's one thing to keep your eye on the prize, it's quite another to...

Oh hell, forget it. "How're you feeling?" he asked her, giving up entirely on whatever evil plans, schemes and machinations he'd contrived for that afternoon.

"Not too bad," she said, then pulled out a rattling bottle from her bag. "Could you open that for me? I need two."

He obediently did so. No, he corrected himself. Not obediently, but obligingly. There's a difference. He obligingly did so.

"Thanks." She popped two tablets into her mouth and swallowed them down with a swig of water from her bottle.

"Head still hurt?"

"Not unbearably."

"Good."

Silence.

Would conversations always be this awkward?

Wait. There was silence...

Not just between them, not just a simple lapse in conversation but he could only hear his thoughts. He knew she was capable of blocking out things she didn't want to think about but she'd never gone completely silent before. Something must be wrong. And effect of the concussion. He had to get her to a doctor. But how to convince her? What could he tell her? 'You need your head examined; I can't hear your thoughts anymore'? Right... She'd just insist he get his head examined.

Of course, he could just lie.

"You remember the doctor saying you had to go back and get rechecked after a few days."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, perhaps you were asleep at the time."

"Oh." Her lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure. 'Do I have to? I have enough make-up work as it is, and I hate hospitals,' she railed quickly in her mind, surprising Edward thoroughly. So he could hear her thoughts, at least some times. He eyed her curiously, as if by studying her face he might somehow learn the answer. "Do I have to?" she asked quietly. Edward had just enough time to avert his gaze from her face before she lifted her eyes to look at him. (He didn't want to be caught staring.)

He shrugged. "I call them with an update. See what they say, at least."

She smiled at him, which settled the matter.

.

With the guiltiest of expressions, Matthews watched both him and Bella in class. Too obviously, in Edward's opinion.

'Cullen saves her life, stays with her through the hospital and after, and yet they act like utter strangers. Was it wrong of me to think she'd be alright alone with him?'

That was certainly true, if not in the sense the teacher had intended. But the worry was unnecessary this early in the game. In fact, in the next 400 days or so, she'd be safer with him than anyone else. He'd make sure nothing happened to her that would ruin his own chances of eating her later. It would be very annoying indeed after all his planning and patience if she were to die in a car crash and all her blood was wasted.

Actually, he hadn't thought about that before. Humans died in car accidents all the time. In fact, she was very nearly killed by one only two days before.

Well that was a bother. Was he going to have to watch over her, make sure nothing killed her before he could? He rolled his eyes. That was not at all a farvourable prospect. Perhaps it wasn't worth it, getting her to trust him. Sure, it was a lengthy task but doable, as he'd planned it. Keeping her alive? That wasn't what he'd imagined. He decided then that she wasn't worth him being a body guard. He wasn't going to waste his time on a fool's errand.

But then again, what was time to him? Was it possible to waste something one had in infinite resource? He'd made her his pet project. He could either go all the way, or drop it entirely. He stared at the back of her head as he considered the matter.

The bell rang sooner than he expected and he jerked in surprise.

'Ah...' He looked up at Matthews, from whom the questionable sound had come. The man was smirking, (smirking!) at him. 'I saw that, Cullen.'

'Saw what?' he bitterly wanted to ask, but couldn't for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, the man's mind didn't continue.

As the class packed away their things, the teacher approached Bella and enquired quietly, "How are you feeling?"

Edward remained stubbornly in his seat as the rest of the class trooped out.

"Fine," she answered simply, smiling an all too innocent smile.

"I just wanted to apologize again. I can't tell you how deeply sorry I am at how close..."

"But you didn't," she reassured, her head started to turn in Edward's direction, but she stopped half-way, reigning her glance back in to look at her teacher. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Accidents happen. It's not your fault." Again, Edward had to disagree, but he didn't do so aloud. That wasn't to say that the sentiment didn't go un-communicated, however. He rose from his desk and went over to the pair, giving his teacher a disapproving look as he took her bag in his hand.

"We should go," he said shortly, not even bothering to look at her as he spoke. He let his glower linger for a moment before he went to the door, holding it open with his foot. "Come on."

"See you tomorrow," she said to Mathews, and exited the room. The moment the door closed she reached for her bag, which he instantly relinquished. "You didn't have to be so rude," she pointed out.

"Well it is his fault. He should feel bad."

"He obviously does."

"Not enough."

'This coming from the man who two nights ago begged me to let him apologize,' she thought wryly. 'He might understand guilt, but nothing in the way of sympathy.'

Again, Edward was annoyed that he was powerless to argue the point. Not that he could have, in fairness. He knew he was devoid of sympathy, not only did it go against his nature (those who sympathized with their food often went hungry) but he in particular didn't need it. When you can read the thoughts of others, sympathy is rather a superfluity.

"I'll see you later Edward," she said, clearly disappointed in him. He didn't really care. He couldn't change his entire character to cater to her feminine sensibilities.

"Am I giving you a ride home?" he asked.

"Why would you?" she asked, confused. Edward was equally befuddled and cocked his head to one side.

"I thought the Chevy was a standard," he answered, with a pointed look at her right arm bandaged to her side. How she expected to manage the gear shift was beyond him.

Her eyes closed tightly in consternation as she swore angrily in her head. Edward tried to hide his grin. Hearing her mentally shout bad words was highly amusing, given she was usually so soft spoken.

He lost the battle and let escape a chuckle. At the sound she reluctantly smiled and sighed. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble..."

"Bella," he said, and stopped walking. A moment later when she realized that she stopped too, and turned to face him, expression curious. "We," he said pointing between them both, "are very different people. I don't go out of my way to trouble myself."

"You're implying that I do?"

"No." Yes. "I'm just saying that I don't make offers that would inconvenience me. I'm a selfish guy. So you don't have to worry about me going out of my way. I don't often do what I don't want to do."

"So I'm not a charity case, then?"

"I don't do charity."

"Good. Well, no, I suppose it's not good, but good that you aren't just..." she trailed off, blocking him again from his mind so he couldn't even find out that way how she was going to finish that sentence.

"Say it."

She released her lower lip from her teeth and finally answered. "Pitying me."

"Ha." He smiled genuinely. "I don't do pity either."

She grinned, but then it faded away into curiosity. "Then what are you doing?"

"Honestly?" Honestly? Why the hell had he started the sentence out that way? If there was one thing he couldn't afford to be, it was forthright. He shrugged. "I don't mind your company."

'Flattered,' she thought sarcastically. "You know, the others aren't not so bad. In fact, they're really nice. A group of us is going camping at the beach this weekend. You should come, try to enjoy yourself."

"Baby steps, Bella. Baby steps."

'Now that I can understand,' she thought. "Alright. I have to go to History. See you later." 'And for the record, I don't mind your company either.'

.

"Think you can handle him?" she asked jokingly as he jumped into the driver's side of her ancient Chevy.

"I think the more appropriate question is, can he handle me?"

"Hmm... probably not. So could you at least try to be good? He starts whining at 50."

"50?" he asked incredulously, seriously considering that they take his car after all.

"The speed limit's 45 anyway!" she argued. Considering that it was just this once, he agreed... with growling reluctance.

Not since the automobile had first been invented had he ever driven so slowly. He crawled, or so it seemed, to Bella's place.

He was listening in on her thoughts (as per embarrassingly usual) to find her nervous as to how he would get back to his own car. 'Surely he doesn't plan on walking back to the school...'

"Would you mind if I used your phone?" he asked, once he'd parked the Chevy in the driveway.

"You don't have a cell?"

"No. Can't stand them."

"I don't have one either." He knew this of course, after having overheard her explaining it to a dozen or so other people after they'd asked her for her number.

Inside he feigned having a conversation with a co-worker, arranging him to be picked up, so as to assuage her worries.

To his annoyance, when they sat down at the kitchen table to do their work, her mind was solely on her assignments. His brows drew together in consternation as he observed her reading from the history text. He'd been around long enough, and lingered in more than enough heads to know that no one is that focused. No one. Random thoughts pop up, triggered by any number of things, the feel of the page as you turn it, the smell of something wafting into the room, perhaps something you read sparks a memory of something else.

Not for the first time he thought that perhaps he wasn't getting the whole picture, that there were parts of her thoughts that she was somehow obscuring from him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked aloud (to his own surprise.)

She looked at him quizzically. "Nothing."

"It's just that you're..."

"What?"

"Nothing," he echoed lamely.

.

They fell into a routine, which was as awkward as it was comfortable. No matter how much at ease they felt around each others, there was always an almost tangible tension between them. Really that should come as no surprise to him, humans were naturally ill at ease around vampires; it was one of their oh-so-pitiful defense mechanisms. Still, it was his mission to break through that tension after all, and there was no real hurry. He still had over a year before he could eat her. Plenty of time to intimate himself.

It remained a silly little farce, him dropping her off early, ignoring each other during school, making sure no one saw them leave together.

"It makes me feel more mysterious than I actually am. Like we are spies or secret lovers or something," she said one Friday afternoon after she had ducked into his car.

"Or criminals," he suggested.

"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that," she stated. It pleased him that she was at least speaking more, even if her mind wasn't very informative. She'd often say things that would shock him, because he'd had no hint of it in her head before she said it. That must be what humans feel like all the time, he suspected.

"How about it then?"

"I like it. What kind of criminals are we?"

"Well, we could be drug traffickers. Money launderers. Thieves. Murderers."

"Not murderers," she stated firmly. "There's nothing fun about killing people.

Oh, I beg to differ. "Very well then, you choose."

At that moment her stomach growled noisily.

He felt like an utter fool. Not once that entire week had he offered to take her to the store. If she ran out of food would she even have asked? Or would she have tried to live off one meal a day at lunch. Stupid girl.

Without even asking her he pulled into a grocery store. "Do you need anything? If not you can wait in the car if you'd like." Of course he didn't actually need anything, but it was much simpler this way. He knew her well enough to know she disliked the idea of people going out of their way for her, so he'd let her think this was about him.

"No, I'll come in." He watched, but did nothing as she fumbled with her left hand to get the car door open.

.

Back at her house she'd put away her things. He was about to leave when he turned around to face her again. "You'll um..." No, he didn't want to say this. He wasn't going to say this. "You'll call me if you need anything?" Damn it, he said it.

"I'll be fine." 'And I don't have your number.'

Right. "Well, just in case..." He wrote it down on the dry erase board on the refrigerator. Deciding there was no way to save the moment or make it any less unsmooth, he simply left. He didn't even say goodbye.