Disclaimer: I don't own anything you notice, all that belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter Eight

It took five minutes of whispering and lightly knocking on the cell door before Bella got any response from Edward, and even then it wasn't much more than a moan.

"Edward? Is that you?"

There was a pause, then she heard a shuffle. It sounded like Edward was coming closer to the door. She felt scared and relieved and embarrassed all at the same time.

"Bella?"

His voice sounded muffled and sleepy.

"Yes. I . . . I just wanted to check that you were okay. I didn't know where you were, and then surplus James . . . I just wanted to check that you were here,"

Bella said awkwardly. She shivered violently and wished she'd thought to bring her blanket with her now.

"Bella. You're here."

Bella frowned. "Are you okay?" she whispered. "You sound funny. Did James hurt you really badly?"

She heard Edward yawn.

"My head," she heard him say. "I feel . . . They gave me something. An injection, I feel woozy. How long have I been here?"

Bella frowned, "You didn't have an injection, Edward. Surplus James kicked your head. He told me. But why are you in solitary? Did Mrs. Denali find you?"

"I don't know," Edward said vaguely. "I remember the fight. But Mrs. Denali got me out of bed later and brought me down here. At night-time. They gave me an injection . . . What time is it?"

Bella looked at her wrist.

"Half past one," she said her heart sinking as she realized just how little sleep she was going to get tonight.

"Look, I can't stay," she said quickly. "I just had to warn you about James. He wants to kill you, he said. I didn't know where you were, so-"

"I can handle James," Edward said, his voice beginning to sound a bit more normal. "But Bella, don't go. Not yet. Stay and talk to me."

Bella felt her face flush slightly and bit her lip self-consciously. The floor was freezing and damp under her bare feet, but still she sat down.

"You can't defend me, you know," she said awkwardly. "You can't let surplus James bully you. I can take care of myself. You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I don't care about trouble." Edward said flatly.

"You can't say that," Bella said agitatedly. "When you get out . . . you have to learn how to behave."

"If I get out." Edward said darkly.

Bella sighed, "Of course you'll get out Edward. You just have to learn your lesson first, that's all."

"And what lesson's that?" Edward asked, his voice irritable. "Don't get born? Don't have an opinion? Don't tell James that he's a bully and an oaf?"

Bella's eyes opened wide. "You said that?"

"Yes, I said that. And he and five others decided to use my head as a football. I'm assuming that's why I'm down here. They must have ran to Mrs. Denali afterwards and said I started it or something."

Bella frowned. "James didn't say anything about telling Mrs. Denali," she said. "He didn't know where you were either."

"What do you mean; he didn't know where I was?"

"None of us did. I mean, I didn't know you were definitely down here. That's why I . . . I mean . . ."

"You came to find me?" his voice was chirpy, almost teasing, and Bella felt herself redden.

"I . . . I just wanted to know where you were," Bella said quickly. She cleared her throat. 'So what happened? When did you get brought down here?"

There was a pause, then Edward started to speak, his voice low.

"I don't know . . . They came for me last night. Quite late, because I was asleep. And Mrs. Denali kept asking me questions and hitting me when I didn't answer. Then I was put here, and they came and got me again –tonight, I suppose. She was asking questions again but then this man got out a needle and I can't remember much until they were carrying me back again."

Bella frowned. That didn't sound like a punishment she's encountered.

In her experience, Mrs. Denali had several ways of teaching you a lesson. There were beatings –usually with a belt, sometimes with a ruler and, very occasionally, with her bare fists; there were reduced rations, from hot food to whole meals to blankets, depending on the crime; there was extra work, often late into the night, and there was solitary.

"What questions?" she asked. "Was she asking you why you were bad? Because when she does that, you have to say 'Because I was stupid and I won't do it again'."

"No, they weren't about that. She kept asking me what I knew. Who I was. Why I was here. They wanted to know where I'd been living. I think they wanted me to tell them about your parents. I didn't though. I didn't say a thing. I'm far too clever for you Mrs. Denali."

"She's not my Mrs. Denali," Bella said defensively. "And why would she want to know about my parents?"

Bella said the words awkwardly, finding it difficult to say 'my parents', let alone contemplate the reality of them existing, of them being linked in some way to Edward's encounter with Mrs. Denali.

Bella heard something bang against the wall.

"Yes, your parents."

"What was that noise?" Bella asked. "And why would she care about my parents? Why would she even think you've met them? They're just criminals . . ."

"They're not criminals. Your parents love you, Bella. And they're in the underground movement."

Bella heard the bang again.

"Edward shush, what's that noise?" she said nervously "You'll wake someone up."

"We're two floors below everyone, Bella Swan. I'm not going to wake up anyone. I need to bang my head to wake myself up. They must have drugged me."

Bella shook her head as her logical response kicked in.

"Surpluses aren't allowed to be given drugs," she said immediately in an authoritive tone. "Everyone knows that. It's in the Declaration. And stop calling me Bella Swan."

"That's your name. Bella Swan. I think it's a nice name. And I don't care if surpluses are allowed drugs or not –they definitely injected me with something. There's still a mark on my arm."

Not sure what to say, Bella took one of her feet, which were now feeling like ice blocks, and held it in her hands, trying to encourage the blood to circulate a bit better.

"I've got to go to bed, Edward," she said anxiously. "I just wanted to check you're okay, and you seem to be. Don't do anything stupid. Mrs. Denali will let you out soon, I know she will."

She waited for a reply, but Edward was silent.

"Edward? I said I'm going to bed. I-"

"I don't think she will let me out," Edward said suddenly. "Bella, she said something about terminating me. When we were coming down the corridor. She asked one of the men if he was qualified for termination . . ."

Bella shook her head incredulously. "Don't be stupid Edward,' she said firmly. 'James is the only one making threats. Anyway, you were asleep when you came down the corridor. You just dreamt it, that's all. You'll probably be out tomorrow. And if you're not maybe I'll come down again tomorrow night, to see if you're okay . . ."

She regretted saying that as soon as the words left her mouth, but before she could take them back, Edward said, "Please come."

His voice sounded so sad and vulnerable.

"I'll try my best," she promised reluctantly. "But you mustn't fight with James again. If you get out. I mean . . . when."

"Thank you Bella. You're . . . you're my best friend."

Bella flushed.

"You're my friend too," she said hesitantly, the words feeling strange in her mouth.

"Run away with me then?"

Bella shook her head. "Edward, don't be ridiculous. No one's running away. Why don't you just concentrate on getting out of solitary?"

'Actually I'm better off here," Edward said sulkily. "Solitary's where the escape route is."

He paused, then spoke again, this time his voice more animated.

"Bella, listen to me, I've seen the plans to Grange Hall and there's a secret tunnel. It comes out near the village. I could go now, if I wanted to –I can see the grate it's hidden behind. But you have to come too. You have to escape with me Bella Swan."

Edward's voice was becoming slurred again, but it sounded close and Bella realized that he must be pressing against the door, only centimeters away from her. For a moment, she let herself imagine leaving Grange Hall with Edward, leaving Mrs. Denali and Tanya and James behind and feeling the grass under her feet I some magical, safe place. But even as the thoughts entered her head, she knew that they were pure fantasy, and a dangerous one at that.

Once, on a winter afternoon when Bella was meant to be cleaning the big ovens in the kitchen, Mrs. Denali had caught her peeking behind a blind. It was snowing, and the entire landscape was quickly being enveloped in a wonderful new coat, even the tall, grey walls that separated Grange Hall from the outside, the world beyond it where the Legal people lived.

She could see Domestics and instructors through the gate pulling their coats round them more closely as they made their way home. She looked longingly at them, thinking how wonderful it must be to feel the wind and snow in your face. Surpluses were not allowed outside unless absolutely necessary. Mrs. Denali said that they were easier to manage inside.

Bella had pressed her nose against the cold glass in order to admire the swirling snowflakes, mesmerized as she watched them coming directly towards her and billowing onto the windowsill, joining the others until there was a big mound of delicious, new whiteness covering the grey and grime. She'd been wondering what it would be like to touch something so magical, to hold it in her hands, and feel it melting through her fingers when Mrs. Denali saw her and dragged her away angrily.

"The snow is not falling for you," she'd shouted angrily at her as she pulled Bella to her office by the hair, and then searched for her belt.

"How dare you even look at it! How dare you spend one moment of your life looking at something beautiful when you should be working. Nothing good in this world exists for you," she'd screamed as she gave up the search and used her own hands instead to slap her across the face.

'Know your place Bella. Know your place. You are nothing. You deserve nothing. You will never feel snow in your hands or the sun on your skin. You are not wanted on this earth and the sooner you accept that, the better for all of us."

"I do accept it," Bella had whimpered as she closed her eyes against the pain. "I'm sorry House Matron. I succumbed to temptation. It won't happen again. I do know my place. I have no place. I'm nothing . . ."

. . . Pushing the memory out of her head, Bella looked back at the metal door that imprisoned Edward.

"Don't talk about the escape," she said agitatedly. 'Why can't you just accept things? Why can't you just be my friend here, in Grange Hall?"

"Because we don't have much time," Edward said, his voice beginning to fade. "We don't have forever, Bella. Not like the rest of them. We need to get out, before it's too late."

Bella stared at the cold, metal door separating her and Edward, and shook her head silently.

Too late for what? She wanted to ask, what does time matter when every moment is stolen away?

But instead, she stood up and briefly pressed her hand against the door, before forcing her frozen legs to carry her silently back up to her stark, grey dormitory.

The next day when Bella woke up, her night-time visit felt rather like a dream, like an unreal version that might even have happened to someone else.

There was nothing like the chill of the morning air on your body and the knowledge that you had five minutes to get to breakfast, fully dressed to put a bit of perspective on things, she thought to herself, as she pulled on her overalls and regulation knee-length socks. Nothing like the threat of a beating to get rid of dangerous thoughts and expose them for the deceptions they were.

She felt guilty now, embarrassed and fearful that someone might have seen her creeping down to solitary in the middle of the night. She couldn't believe how reckless she had been, couldn't believe that she'd actually told Edward that she'd do it again tonight.

Silently, she led the other Pending girls out of the dormitory and own towards central feeding for breakfast, she stopped them, and inspected their appearance quickly, telling one to pull up her socks properly and another to straighten her hair. Then her eyes were drawn to Jessica's overalls, ad she frowned.

Jessica had never really fit in at Grange Hall, had never really been able to adjust to institutional living. And she wasn't good at anything either –everything she touched, whether cooking or cleaning or ending, seemed to go wrong and she would look at it helplessly, as if she couldn't understand how she'd ended up with a lopsided pie or the wrong stitch or a floor that was still covered in grease marks.

Bella had tried to teach her at first, making her do the work over and over again until it was right, but lately she'd begun to cover up for her instead, unable to bear Jessica's haunted expression and ever-present bruises.

Right now, however, Bella wasn't in the mood for Jessica's inadequacies. This was the just the excuse she needed to reaffirm her authority –over the surpluses in her charge, over herself. There was a button hanging off Jessica's overalls, and everyone knew that overalls had to be kept in good repair at all times.

"You've got a loose button," she said sharply. "Go and fix it. You can't go into central feeding looking like that."

"I'm sorry Bella, I didn't notice," Jessica said quietly. The bruises on her face were now a deep purple color and Bella could hardly look at them.

"Can I eat first and sew it on later?"

Bella met her eyes for a brief second, she considered agreeing to Jessica's request, breakfast was the biggest meal of the day where big vats of porridge sat at the top of the hall so that everyone could have at least two helpings. Jessica was thin enough already; a missed meal would make her hollow cheeks positively skeletal.

But then she shook herself. Narrowing her eyes, she looked down at Jessica.

"Do it now," she snapped. "If you miss breakfast, that's your own fault. I will not have you letting down my dormitory."

Jessica stared up at her silently, then turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Bella feeling a welcome sense of control. Order was good, she told herself firmly as she approached the vats of porridge.

Rules were there to be followed.

But whilst Bella told herself that she was fine, she didn't feel particularly fine. Taking the bowl back to her table, she lifted the food to her mouth, but found herself unable to eat. The porridge felt dry, like sawdust and eventually having almost gagged on the first mouthful, she gave up.

It was tiredness, she decided. That was all.

"Hurry up, now. Remember that you're on clearing duty this morning. I want central feeding clean before training starts."

Bella looked up to see Mrs. Denali hovering over her, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, House Matron, I remember. We'll start right away," she said. "You can depend on me." She added unnecessarily, and Mrs. Denali raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well I hope I can" she said frowning slightly as she swished past her solid court shoes resonating on the cold, hard floor.

Bella looked up and saw that Jessica was standing nervously in the doorway. The final whistle had just been blown, which meant no more food was to be consumed. And suddenly Bell couldn't bear it.

"Jessica, come in, we're on cleaning duty," she said loudly, watching closely as Jessica nodded obediently, her eyes surreptitiously moving to the front of the hall where the big vats of porridge were being taken into the kitchens.

Bella picked up her bowl, which was full of porridge, and walked over to Jessica.

"Here," she said softly, checking that no one was watching before handing her the bowl.

"Just eat it quickly and don't tell anyone, okay?"

Jessica's face lit up as she took the bowl gratefully.

"Thanks Bella," she said in her small voice. "And I'm sorry about the button."

Bella nodded, and walked away thinking as she did so of Mrs. Denali's take on apologies. Don't ever say you're sorry to another surplus, the House Matron had told her repeatedly when she'd first became a prefect. 'Sorry' implies a contract, an expected level of behavior, and surpluses don't enjoy such a luxury. Surpluses should not ask why, or how –they simply do what they're told, and that's the end of it. Sometimes she'd pause then, and frown slightly.

Life is very straightforward for a surplus, she'd say almost wistfully. There's nothing to think about at all.

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-GreenEyes555