AN: Well! Another chapter, already! Although not quite at my average 3,000 word marker, it's pretty darn close and I'm pretty darn happy with it. But let me tell you, these first two were kinda hard to write—simply because the pace never really fit for me, you know? First I'd write it rushed, then I'd go to fix it and it would all just drag on and on. I hope I got a nice balance here! :D

Anyway, I'm still trying to get around to finding some Peter/Bella stories, but FF has been acting up for me all crazy-like. So the only thing that works is the search-engine—if I click on any of the links on the main page it just tells me the URL may be misspelled. I've picked apart the computer with still no answers! :'( So it's like, my comp's time of the month or something.

Now, onto the story! To answer some questions, I will assure you this is NOT gonna be Edward/Bella. There won't be major Edward bashing or anything, but it will become and will stay a Peter/Bella romance fic. Just to ease any worries. :)

Now, I also wanna mention that these little quote-y things will be in the beginning of each chapter. Just to warn you. And this will all be Bella's POV. Though if you want me to go in depth later on, I could always hold a vote and see which chapters you'd like me to put in a different POV, I suppose…but eh, that's not for a while yet.

Now, after this long note, on with the show!

Immolation Chapter 2: Conversations

"They also told me that 'curiosity killed the cat'…"

I woke up to the sound of beeping, and knew immediately from my past experiences that I was in a hospital. But that was all I knew—everything else seemed to be a hazy blur. I remember the woods, devastation, and wonder, but the actual events that led to those emotions eluded me as I sat for what seemed an hour, my eyes remaining closed. I tried to dig through what memories I could, sort them, and find the reason I was even here in the first place, but it was too fuzzy, and it seemed almost as if my mind was a far away thing that I simply couldn't reach.

Sighing quietly, I assessed my body, trying to see if I could feel any pain. Maybe I had broken or fractured something? It definitely wouldn't be the first time. But there was no pain—a dull numbness that tingled through my limbs, and a burning, stinging sensation in my fingers, but nothing more. Confused, I finally decided to open my eyes and take in the stark-whiteness that was sure to await me.

But only moments after I had glanced around the room, I saw a man in the bed next to me. Multiple machines and IVs and other various instruments were hooked up to him, tubes and wires knotting together in a confusing haze of color. But that wasn't what threw me—it was the bright red burns all over him, scarring him and making him look barely human. I bit my lip, my heart going out to the man who would most likely have to deal with horrible pain and live with those scars the rest of his life.

I looked back to the blank ceiling, tears pooling in my eyes as I imagined the suffering that was sure to come for him. But I wasn't able to dwell much longer, as I was snapped out of my reverie by a muffled shout in the halls outside my door. "You can't do that sir! Visiting hours aren't—"

Another, calmer voice interrupted, closer to my door. I heard footsteps as a shadow appeared through the frosted glass window. "He's my brother—I need to see him. You said he was in stable condition." With that, the doorknob began to turn. I fiddled nervously with my IV tube, watching as it slowly opened. The man stepped through, and instantly, the events from yesterday flooded back to me. In scattered bits of pieces.

"We're leaving."

"Okay. I'll come with you."

"I don't want you to come with me."

"You…don't…want me?"

"No."

"You!" I gasped, shooting upward and staring at him, wide-eyed. The man who had crashed in front of me, injured and burned beyond belief, before repairing himself in mere moments. Again, like yesterday, his head whipped around and he stared at me. There was immediate recognition, as well as slight panic and confusion in his eyes. But the memories continued to bombard me with sensations and feelings, and I flopped backward, a hole ripping where my heart should have been. But I remembered—yesterday he left. And he took it with him.

"You," he echoed faintly, his face still in a mask of shock and worry. He stood, frozen by the door, as the doctor—who I recognized faintly, but did not know—that must have been yelling at him stood in the doorway. Everyone was still and silent for a moment, in which me and the unknown man had a staring match, before he interrupted.

"Bella? You know this man?" I looked over and really examined the doctor, before his grey hair and kind eyes registered with a name. Dr. Gerandy. He raised an eyebrow as I thought over his question. I didn't exactly know him, and yet the desire to know him—or at least know what he was—was large.

"Yes," I finally decided to lie. "I've seen him before. And we need to talk, anyway. Could you please let him stay, Dr. Gerandy?" I pleaded quietly, hoping beyond hope he would let him stay. And leave, preferably, so we could talk about what had happened in the woods freely. Although, as he nodded and left us alone, I realized the faults in my plan.

The largest one being that I doubted he'd openly pour his secrets out to me. I mean, who was I, but some random teenager who had happened to see a bit too much? Though my curiosity and hunger for knowledge made me think over my next question. Finally, I decided on one that was quite relevant, given the lie I had just told. "What's your name?" I asked quickly, never breaking the tense eye contact we had.

Though he did as he blinked in surprise, looking at me strangely. "Of all the things you could ask…" he finally muttered, his brow knitted in what I could only guess was confusion. But he continued anyway. "Why do you wanna know?" He was defensive, but I didn't detect any anger or malice in his words—merely hesitation.

I gestured faintly to the door, "Well, you know mine, thanks to the good doctor. And they also believe I know you now, so not having a clue what your name is could pretty easily trip me up in my lie," I stated drily. He looked at me oddly for a moment, and his lip even twitched as if he was resisting the urge to smile. But he regained control, still defensive, and the pause was almost a tangible, tense thing between us.

"Peter." He didn't add a last name, and I didn't see a need for it. I hadn't specified whether or not I knew him well, so Peter would do. Shoving the heartache and déjà vu I felt away—I could have sworn He had mentioned a Peter before—I thought over my next question. Peter, seeming to sense that I was not done, but that I would need time to get my thoughts together, walked over to a chair on the other side of the burned man, grabbing his hand. I faintly realized that this was the brother he had been talking about, and wondered what had happened to them. Was the brother with Peter when he fell from the sky, burned and broken as he was? And if so, how come he hadn't healed also?

I bit my lip, the silence pressing in on me. I decided to ask a question to merely break it as I continued to mull over how to ask Peter what he was and how he did what he did while somehow simultaneously obtaining my answers. It didn't seem easy—in fact, it was looking pretty impossible. But I would try. "So…that's your brother?" I asked quietly, before slowly sitting up in my bed, bringing the sheet with me.

He looked at me warily. "Yes…my brother Nathan. And you really shouldn't move around so much, you don't wanna pull on your IV." I waved off his suggestion, but nodded.

"Thanks. But don't worry, I've been in the hospital before. A lot of times," I added as an afterthought. He nodded also, watching me for a moment, before flicking his eyes back to his brother. His eyes…they were a light brown, mocha-like color. They weren't gold or red…but they could be contacts, right? After all, they had to be.

Peter simply had to be a vampire. There was no other explanation. E—my heart thumped painfully in my chest. He had told me how vampires, unless burned, could regenerate. And although Peter had looked burned, maybe it was something else that had caused those injuries. And though I had seen blood and glistening tissue—I resisted the urge to gag at the memory—maybe my theory of vampires not having blood was wrong. After all, who was to say that the blood didn't just simply lie dormant in their veins, not moving due to their lack of a heartbeat?

And then there was the fact that he landed right in front of me, falling like a meteor from the sky. Not only could a human never survive that in a million years, but a human wouldn't be able to fall from the sky the way he did without falling from something. And there wasn't a plane, as I was sure I would have heard it. Not to mention no one sky-dives on a rainy night in Forks, Washington. Especially not right into the middle of the forest.

So he had to be a vampire, right? I should just flat out tell him that I knew what he was, that it was okay, and I wouldn't tell anyone. But there was something, some kind of voice in the back of my head, uneasily nagging at me to just ask and not tell. So, I did just that, finally deciding to trust my instincts. "Well." He looked up at me again as I spoke, but I stopped. I still didn't know what to start with asking him.

"Well," he repeated. I bit my lip.

"I suppose you know what exactly I want to talk about," I said finally. He seemed to debate it for a moment, his eyes on me, but unfocused. Finally, he locked his jaw.

"No, I don't," was his tight response. I licked my lips, agitation lapping at my mind. I knew good and well that he did know, and was just hoping I would drop it. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't stop until I found out every last detail—such as what his powers were, if he drank from humans, if he had a coven.

"So you don't remember any of yesterday?" I asked, though my tone was obviously disbelieving. His brow creased, and he didn't answer. Though his expression was answer enough.

"What was all that?" I asked finally. He sighed and looked away, at his brother.

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." I huffed, the irritation growing. He was going to be difficult about admitting it, and as much as I wanted to let him know I already knew, I had a feeling that that would earn me some terrible kind of death. But if I could get him to admit it to me, that would be a different situation entirely. Curiosity and determination ate at my insides, and again I had to shove déjà vu and heartbreak away.

"I saw everything, you know," I continued to prod him, "the regeneration, the whole falling from the sky bit. I'm not blind." I crossed my arms, finding that they no longer had a jelly-like feel to them.

He pursed his lips, still not bringing his eyes to mine. "But you are in the hospital," he began. "Maybe you've had a bad reaction to your drugs, because I have no clue what you're talking about." He finally did look up at me.

I scoffed, looking at him with a twinge of childish anger. "Are you calling me delusional?" I fumed.

He shook his head, training his eyes on mine, as if he were trying to force me to believe him. "No, just that the drugs you're on are making you…you know…" he searched for a word, but I beat him to it.

"Have delusions. I get it," I snapped irrationally. But I knew that I was, in fact, not having a delusion of any kind. What I had seen yesterday had been real, and not some false memory or dream. It was too vivid—not only he and his powers, but the heartbreak and desolation from the earlier events of the night. It all had to be real—after all, if none of it happened, we would still be together. And He was nowhere to be found.

"Trust me," I began after calming myself down and pushing away the depression that threatened to overtake me. "I'm not delusional." He smiled, but said nothing.

Finally admitting that I was getting nowhere with this, I decided to switch tactics. He had said that covens traveled together, and there was rarely an event that would push them apart, such as death. Which, obviously, was not very common among immortal vampires.

So if Peter had a coven, surely they'd come after these two, right? Maybe I could get one of them to admit it to me. "Do you have any more family? Besides Nathan, I mean."

He cocked his head to the side slightly, examining me. He obviously didn't expect this change in the conversation, and I could tell it had put him on edge. Though I put on the best innocent face I could muster, trying to convince him it was merely a question and had no underlying meanings.

He obviously found nothing wrong with it. "My mother, Angela. And my niece, Claire." I filed this away. So he did have family—and he didn't mention another sibling, which made it apparent that, unless he was making all this up, Claire would be Nathan's 'daughter'. So surely, if they were posing as a parent and a child, she would come after them. Maybe I would get lucky and convince her to admit to me what Peter would not.

"Why do you ask?" he added after a small bit of silence.

I shrugged, looking away from him and to the floor. "Curious, I guess," I mumbled half-heartedly, as I hadn't thought of a reason for my random questioning. I looked disinterestedly at a small, flower-shaped bruise on my left arm, and watched a mosquito land on it. I quickly brought my other hand down on him, but aside from the sickening squish, there was a burning pain and ripping sound as my IV fell to the ground. I clutched the open wound, a yelp escaping my lips, and suddenly Peter was next to me before I even realized he was getting up.

I jumped slightly as he wiped off the IV with one of the wipe-things from right next to me. Then he put me through the grueling process of reinserting it, but I felt nothing but his warm skin. Vampires don't have warm skin. That's simply a fact. His eyes aren't a typical color, his skin isn't ghostly-pale, and he's warm. He finished as I processed all this with a sort of muted shock, and looked up at me. Our eyes met, and we were only inches from each other. His breath was warm on my face as I examined his eyes for contacts—but there were none. That was his real eye color.

Slightly disheartened, but mainly shocked, I mechanically broke our contact. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, going back to his brother's bedside. "No problem. Just try to be more careful." His voice was steady, his posture relaxed. Surely he would be at least slightly affected by my blood? If he were a vampire. Which he isn't, I thought drily. I looked up at him, but he was back to staring down at his brother, holding his hands. I watched tears pool in his eyes, something no vampire could do.

What is he then?

AN: So, whatcha think? I hope it's alright and at least semi-in-character-ish. But I can assure you it will get OOC at points—hope ya don't mind. And as a side, thought, that wasn't a romantic moment between them. When I read it over it looked like it, but it was really just explaining how Bella could tell for sure that he lacked contacts.

Anyway, I will kindly urge you to hit that cute little button right below, as I've gotten thirty hits already! And twenty visitors! I was actually quite surprised, but then happy—because that must mean Bella/Peter is a popular pairing, which guarantees me plenty of stories about them! Yay! I think they may be my new OTP…hmm…probably because in my mind, they just work, you know? They're both kind, stubborn, self-less, smart, curious people. Well, I think so, anyway. :P

Now, if I could just get my comp to hurry up and stop freaking…

So, yeah, if you wanna tell me how I did or guess what's gonna happen or even chat about the weather, I'd love to hear from you! *MAJORHINTALERT* ;D