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Chapter seventeen

A day that began like any other ended up following none of my expectations. It started with me waking up with a headache-not the best of starts, I must say. Opening the curtains, I gazed out of the window at the indecisive weather. There were very occasional spots of blue scattered amongst the various tones of grey and it made my job of deciding what to do for the day rather difficult. Alice was busy showing Esme the sights and had asked if I wanted to join, but I declined. They hadn't seen each other for so long that I felt it best to give them some privacy during their catch-up.

Charlie was hard at work, as usual, although things were beginning to quieten down a little. There hadn't been any killings for a few weeks, meaning the pointless tip offs had fizzled out. Nowadays, the occasional leads phoned in were generally genuine, which improved my dad's mood no end. He was spending some much needed downtime with Billy Black and Harry Clearwater, but I still hadn't told Charlie about my spat with Jacob, so wondered if either of his fishing buddies would say anything. Although a part of me wanted someone to help me reconcile with my former friend, another part was still feeling sore and stubborn about the whole thing. Sometimes, I found myself missing his easygoing company, yet it was quickly overtaken by my anger and frustration at the whole predicament.

Before another of those episodes threatened, I set about distracting myself by getting dressed and heading downstairs to the kitchen. It had been a while since the last grocery shop, so I inspected the cupboards and refrigerator to see what was needed. The shelves weren't bare, but a trip was necessary for a few essentials. The heavy patter of raindrops hitting the windows made me forget heading all the way out to the supermarket and opt for the local convenience store instead. Due to an unexpected lie in, I'd missed breakfast and decided get myself a little treat on the way back from the store as a reward for braving the downpour.

The trip took longer than planned as I had been distracted during my shopping by a newspaper headline claiming a Seattle Ripper suspect had been found. I desperately hoped that wasn't just a piece of sensationalist gossip. I was soaked by the time I returned home, but an unfamiliar car in the driveway interrupted my mutterings of displeasure. I wondered who it could belong to, as it was too flashy to belong to the Blacks, yet too cheap to be a Cullen vehicle. My eyes followed a path from the car to the porch and the person stood there was, unlike the vehicle, extremely familiar.

With a bag occupying each hand, I was unable to rub the rainwater out of my eyes to ensure I wasn't seeing things. What was my mom doing here? The confusion only managed to keep the onslaught of panic at bay momentarily and I soon felt the knots begin to form in my stomach.

"Are we gonna stand out here all day or what?" Renée asked, a smile on her face.

I walked over to the front door and transferred the bag in my left hand to my right, so I could fetch my key out of my coat pocket. Once indoors, I entered the kitchen and placed the shopping bags on the kitchen table, before removing my coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. Mom followed, making sarcastic comments about the 'wonderful' weather as she hung her coat on the chair beside mine.

"Please tell me you have coffee in one of those," she pleaded, pointing to the bags.

"Nope," I replied.

Her eyes widened in panic. "What?"

I laughed, before heading over to the counter and pulling out a jar of the stuff. She scowled, before laughing herself.

"Don't be mean," she whined. "I've had a long day and I'm not used to this shitty weather."

"Poor mother," I sighed, mockingly. "Only been back five minutes and already can't cope."

I earned a jab in the ribs for my derision, before her arms encircled me from behind in a hug.

"Surprise!" she whispered into my ear, before placing a kiss on the side of my head.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" I asked, after squeezing her arms in return.

The anxiety I'd felt upon first seeing her had begun to wane, but the knots in my stomach had only loosened, rather than disappeared. It may have sounded as if I wasn't happy to see my mom, which wasn't true. However, since my college troubles, our relationship had become a little strained and it was part of the reason why I'd come to Forks. Dad was happy to just leave me to my own devices, so long as I didn't get into any trouble. Renée, however, was the total opposite, which only made the failings of our relationship all the more confusing. I was excited and happy to see her, but I was also very anxious about her visit, made all the worse by the fact I'd been given no time to prepare.

"Phil's away," she answered and I rolled my eyes. So, less of a social visit and more of a boredom buster. "He's going to be gone for a couple of weeks, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to see how you're doing."

"Where are you staying?" The answer to that question worried me more than anything. I really couldn't handle her nosing into every facet of my life right now, especially as I knew she'd over analyse every single little inconsequential tiny detail for signs of a slip back into 'bad habits'.

"With the Webers," she said, leaning beside me against the kitchen counter. "I haven't seen Carla for so long; it's great to finally catch up."

I breathed a mental sigh of relief, although I assumed I'd still have near-daily visits to contend with. After switching on the coffee machine, I started putting the shopping away, during which, mom remained quiet and simply watched. I offered to make lunch, but she declined, claiming she'd already eaten, so, armed with a cup of coffee each and my box of oh-so-nutritious raspberry velvet pop tarts, we headed for the living room and parked ourselves on the sofa.

For a while we did little more than sit, drink and, in my case, eat. Eventually, the silence was broken by my mom.

"So," she began. "How are you?"

I used a few sips of coffee as an excuse to gain time to think of a reply. I didn't look at her face, afraid of what I might see if I did. Would there be hopeless optimism there, or a well of disappointment? Would she be happy with what I had done so far? I thought about it a moment; what had I done? I was a twenty three year old, living with my dad, working for minimum wage at a bookstore and relied on my friend for lifts to and from work each day. It would have been enough to throw me into a fit of depression, were it not for the presence of the Cullens in my life. I wasn't sure how long I had dragged out those few sips, but I suddenly remembered she was still waiting for an answer, so lowered the cup to my lap, hugging it with both hands and staring into the remaining contents as I replied.

"Good," I said.

Silence followed and, after several long moments of prolonged hush, I risked a glance her way. She was staring at me, her expression expectant.

"And?" she prompted.

"Well...um...I...I've moved up to full time hours at work," I added, somewhat lamely.

"That's good to hear," she nodded approvingly.

We looked at each other for a few moments and the awkwardness of the moment resulted in us both bursting into laughter.

"Christ sakes, Bella!" she laughed. "Relax, would you?"

"I'm sorry," I apologised, ready to stop myself until I remembered my ban only applied around Carlisle. If only he were here right now. Mom would be too busy ogling him to even remember she had a daughter, which, at the present moment, would've suited me just fine. "I just...I don't know what to tell you. I mean, it's only been a few months and I've mainly been settling in, getting a job, y'know...normal stuff." My God, I could be eloquent, at times. "Sure, my car broke down, but I'm going to save up for a new one, which the extra hours should help with a lot."

"What's wrong with just telling me that?" she chuckled. "I wasn't expecting you to be exploring the Himalayas or anything. I just want to know how you are."

She nudged me affectionately with her elbow and I relented with a smile. Maybe her visit wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she wasn't here to simply play the role of probation worker. Maybe, just maybe, my past indiscretions would be forgiven.

We chatted for a while, and I sneakily snuck in a few questions about her life, which managed to take up a great deal of time. It seemed she and Phil had been busy since my departure, with a possible move to Florida on the cards.

"Florida?" I gasped, amazed. "How did that come up?"

"Well," Mom began, her face lit up with enthusiasm. "You know how Phil's been trying to get signed to a baseball team for a while now? Guess what? He did it!" She clapped her hands together, an action not all that dissimilar to one I'd seen Alice perform on a few occasions. "Well, hopefully, anyway. That's where he's gone, to talk about joining the Suns. They're based in Jacksonville, so it'd mean moving there."

Florida? I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that. I mean, was I considered during any of these plans? Was she bringing it up now to ask my opinion, as, technically, I still lived with her? It didn't sound as though I had much say in her decision, though and I tried not to let that bother me. I mean, I wasn't asking to have the final say on anything my mom decided to do with her life, but...I don't know...maybe an afterthought about me would've been nice.

"If we do move, there'll be a room for you, don't worry," she added quickly, but it did little to reassure me. She'd clearly given up on the idea of me going back to college in Arizona. My heart sank a little.

After making another round of coffees, we chatted some more and even found time to squeeze in a discussion about the Seattle Ripper. Eventually, our relaxed talk soon reached more uncomfortable topics.

"Have you seen the Blacks much?" she queried.

"Um, a little," I replied, really hoping she wouldn't go into too much detail. I was tempted to lie, but knew it would be far too easy for her to discover the truth.

"Only a little?" Her eyebrow rose in surprise. "I thought you would've been inseparable. You always got along so well, before and, God knows, your father and Billy are practically like brothers." Her eyes rolled as she said that and I could detect the disparagement often used when she spoke of Charlie.

"Well, we did, I mean, we do, but...I don't know, I guess we've both changed a bit in the last few years. We hang in different circles." I immediately knew that last comment was a mistake. Any mention of social circles was a sore subject still and I desperately hoped she wouldn't read too much into it at that point.

"I see," she said, staring into her cup for a moment, before taking a long sip.

I stared into my own as the knots that had unravelled in my stomach rapidly got tighter.

"I mean, I only asked," she continued. "Because I happened to see Jacob this morning on my way here. He was getting ready to leave the gas station just as I entered. It was lucky he recognised me, as I sure as Hell wouldn't have realised it was him. He's built like a goddamn bear!"

I tried to laugh at her comment, but the panic was rising too fast for me to concentrate. Had he spoken to her? What did he say? Surely he wouldn't be a meddling little prick-surely?

"He says you two haven't spoken for quite a while, that you had a disagreement, or something."

Oh, God, he was a meddling little prick!

"He seemed upset about it; although he said he was sure you two could work it out."

Work it out? He'd basically disowned me! What the Hell was he doing going around like a wounded puppy, when he'd been the one to start the fights in the first place? Was this some grand plan of his to get me away from the Cullens? Basically, I'd refused to give them up myself, so he would manipulate others into coercing me? The temperature of my blood was beginning to rise.

"I'll be honest," she was still saying. "It's worried me a little. You two always got on so well, but, you move back here and now you're at each other's throats. I don't like it, Bella, it's not you."

I chewed the inside of my cheek in frustration and anger. How dare he? I hadn't drawn anyone else into this, so why was he doing so? I was so close to marching out to the res and kicking the shit out of his ass!

"Bella," Mom called, forcing my attention on her. I looked up from my cup and into her eyes. They swam with emotion, but I wasn't sure which emotions they were. "Don't get angry with him, alright? He's just worried about you, we all are."

"I'm fine, Mom," I insisted, my tone a little snappier than intended. "He's just having a tantrum."

"Yeah, I've heard about that," she remarked. "That he doesn't like the people you're hanging around with now."

My fingers tapped against the cup. This wasn't good. If only Jacob knew how much his words resembled that of another friend I'd had back in Phoenix. I had a nasty feeling things were starting to go full circle. Unfortunately, unlike that Phoenix friend, Jacob's instincts were wrong. The Cullens were good people and, regardless of species, didn't deserve the harassment he was giving them.

"You know why I'm worried," she said, her voice low and serious. "The last time I heard someone say that, things got really ugly, really fast."

I bolted upright, not prepared to do this right now. An argument was brewing, I knew it and I wasn't in the mood to hash it out right then. "Mom, nothing's going on, you don't need to worry. Jacob's just got the wrong end of the stick and can't act like an adult, so resorts to shit-stirring."

I turned and left the room, heading for the kitchen to place my cup on the counter. Unfortunately, Mom followed.

"Bella, don't walk away from me, we need to talk about this."

I let out a huff of frustration. "No, we don't," I replied, adamantly. "There's nothing to talk about. The Cullens are good people; he just refuses to see that."

"So, that's who you're hanging around with? He wouldn't tell me their name, just that they were bad news, but you wouldn't believe him."

"Yeah, because he's wrong."

"Is he?"

"Yes!" I cried.

"You're not the best judge of character, though, are you?"

What the Hell kind of thing to say was that? I wasn't retarded, I knew the good from the bad-at least, now I did. And she only had to talk to Charlie or any other person in Forks, to know exactly who the Cullens were and what they were like. Then again, Mom wouldn't have put any more stock into what my dad said than me, and, as for the rest of the residents, she could count those whose opinion she trusted on one hand. Which made her sudden faith in Jacob's word all the more infuriating. She'd always called the Blacks a bunch of small-time bums, yet, the moment Jacob said something that fit her currently low opinion of me, his word became gospel.

"I've heard all sorts of stories about them, Bella," Mom remarked. "Especially from Carla."

Oh, crap, I thought, remembering what Angela had said. Somehow, I imagined telling my mom the truth about them being vampires would probably be a damn sight better than some of the stuff she'd heard from Mrs Weber.

"They've lived here for three years, yet nobody knows why they moved here, what they do, where they came from, anything! That's a little odd given that this town thrives on busy-bodying."

"They don't like nosy people, surely you can relate to that!" Mom had forever complained about the residents of Forks knowing too much about each other, yet, now she was complaining because they didn't know enough?

"No, keeping to yourself is one thing, but the way they've sheltered themselves away is weird. And I don't like that you're spending all your time with people like that. I know what this place is like for gossip and rumour mongering, but I don't like what I'm hearing. Take that doctor, for example. I've heard he's young, gorgeous and perpetually single. No wife, no kids, not even a girlfriend. Never dates any of the women in town and hardly ever goes out for drinks with the guys. Lives with his cousin and her boyfriend. Then, all of a sudden, you, the new girl, arrive-no friends, no real ties to anyone and they come swooping in."

I was getting angry now, seriously angry. Just what was she trying to insinuate? Was everybody saying stuff like this about them? Good God, what right did any of them have to judge those three that way? They'd never hurt anyone or anything, they just kept to themselves, yet were treated like outcasts!

"What are you trying to say?" I challenged, crossing my arms.

"That I want you to be careful, which you're not doing right now. You've only known these people a short while and already spent a night out of town with them."

"So? That was for Angela's exhibition!"

"So you say, but anything could have happened!"

So I say? She thought I was lying?

"I am," I growled. "And, trust me, there were no drug fuelled orgies or anything that night. Just a good old fashioned foursome." The sarcasm was dripping off my words.

"You know that's not what I meant!" she barked in reply, her own temper flaring. "And you'd better watch that tongue, Isabella, you're in no position to be a smartass."

"I'm not being a smartass; you're just jumping to ridiculous conclusions based on hearsay, by pathetic people with nothing better to do."

"No, I'm watching out for my daughter, ensuring she doesn't repeat the mess she made in phoenix!"

"So, that's what it all comes down to, isn't it?" I stated, angry tears prickling the corners of my eyes. "You still don't trust me. Even though I've admitted my mistakes and paid the price for them, you won't let it go. Without even finding out any of the facts first, you're just happy to immediately believe that I'm fucking it all up again. You'd rather trust the opinion of ignorant fucking idiots than your own daughter!"

"Don't turn this around on to me, Bella," she warned, her own anger matching my own. "I remember the warning signs from what happened first time and I'm already seeing them! You're all closed off, deserting your friends, hanging around with bad people-"

"They're not-" I tried to argue, but she wouldn't have any of it.

"-and treating me like the enemy. I'm not. I just want to help you. Clearly your father's head is too far up his own ass to notice, but mine isn't."

"Sure about that?" I asked, my anger lowering my brain's powers of censorship. "I mean, you didn't actually spot any warning signs last time, did you? You weren't even there!"

"What are you talking about? Of course-"

"Physically, sure," I agreed. "But mentally? Emotionally? You were nowhere fucking near. I was going through Hell in Phoenix and you didn't have a fucking clue!"

"Because you shut me out, just like you're doing now!"

"I'm not shutting anyone out, I never did. You were running around here, there and everywhere and I never got a moment to just sit and talk to you."

"Stop being such a drama queen," she admonished. "We had ample opportunity for you to tell me whatever was going through your mind, but you didn't. You skulked around the house like a zombie-that is, on the rare occasions you were actually at the house! Days could go by where I never even saw you."

"Well, maybe we would've seen more of each other if you hadn't been trawling the bars every night, looking for your next meal ticket!"

The instant those words left my lips, I wished I could have taken them back. I'd gone too far, the sting as her palm collided with my cheek told me so. I stumbled back a step, my hand flying to the spot where she'd slapped me. My senses were momentarily numbed by shock as I tried to take in what had just happened. My eyes flew to hers and I saw her hands covering her mouth as realisation dawned of what she'd done. She'd hit me. Never, in all my twenty three years had she done that, not even during my childhood. Her discipline was delivered by words, not actions, yet my right cheek throbbed from the force of her assault. Her eyes were wide and I could see the water gathering at the bottom lash line. In that moment I truly saw the consequences of everything I'd done over the last year. I'd turned a scatter brained, loving, chipper woman into a harassed mother burdened by distress and disappointment, and now she'd finally snapped.

"B-Bella," she stammered in a shaken whisper. "I'm so sorry-"

I had to leave. I had to get out of there. I avoided her gaze as I stormed towards the front door, Mom hot on my heels. I knew she wanted to resolve this, but I just couldn't face it at that moment. I needed to get away, clear my head. I flung open the front door, but her hand clutched my arm.

"Bella, wait," she requested, but I pulled out of her grasp.

She followed me out of the house and down the porch steps.

"Bella, please!" she begged and that was when I started to run.

I ran away from the house as fast as my legs could carry me. I wanted to put as much distance between that building and I as possible, before my legs would give way and force me to stop. The rain was still falling, not as heavily as before, but enough to soak through my t shirt and jeans. The droplets of water crashed against my skin, its cold touch seeping through the layers of flesh as my breathing came out in ragged pants. The houses lining the street whipped by as I raced through Forks, no idea of what my destination would be. My chest began to burn with the exertion and I knew I couldn't carry on much longer. I began to slow, my diaphragm heaving up and down as I tried to absorb the oxygen needed to keep moving. A few cars passed and a terrifying idea came to me: what if she tried driving along here to catch up with me? With a last burst of energy, I darted past the houses and made for the woods behind.

When I was sure I was hidden from sight of the road, I stopped and leaned against the nearest tree. Rivulets of rainwater ran down my face, harassing my eyes, but I didn't pay them any mind, as I was too overcome by emotion to spare any attention to my physical senses. I couldn't even begin to describe how I felt right then. My body felt twitchy with the remaining adrenaline coursing through it and I span round, resting my hands and forehead against the rough bark of the tree, willing to find something to distract me from my thoughts. The water running into my eyes fogged my vision, but I had no idea if it was the rain or tears. The fingertips of my right hand began moving over the wooden trunk, before it slowly curled into a fist. Without even realising it, I found my distraction in repeatedly beating my fist against the tree. I didn't register the pain at first, revelling in the catharsis of venting my anger, but a jolt ran up my entire arm and I was forced to stop, letting out a hiss of agony. I studied the knuckles, which were covered in cuts, scratches and blood.

I stepped away from the tree and tried straightening the fingers, but it hurt like Hell to move them. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd done, but knew it needed to be fixed. I couldn't bear the thought of having to go to the hospital, though. I couldn't face any more people and, the worst of it was that my dad would have to be notified. My mom already thought I was falling off the rails; I didn't need Charlie thinking it, too. So, I was determined to avoid people. Luckily, there was a trio living nearby that weren't classed as people. I thought of Alice and had an immediate need to talk to her. She'd understand, wouldn't she? She wouldn't immediately judge me based on past misdemeanours; she'd listen and offer advice and, maybe, get Carlisle to sort out my hand without a need to visit the A & E department.

I looked around to properly study my surroundings for the first time. I knew roughly where I was, but needed to remember where the Cullen house was. My first thought had been to call Alice, but a quick pat of my jeans informed me I had left my phone at home. Shit! If my sense of direction was correct, their house was quite a walk away, but, at that point, I didn't care. I'd walk for miles, if need be. Knowing Alice Brandon's kind face was waiting at the end of the journey was enough for me to decide a hike in the rain was more than worth it.

000

The rain had stopped, but no sun came out and the cool breeze whipping through the air cut through my body like a knife. I had misjudged just how far away the Cullen house was. I was tired, cold, wet and miserable by the time I reached the beautiful secluded mansion and my hand throbbed furiously. No cars were parked outside the house, but then, if I owned the kind of vehicles they did, I wouldn't exactly leave them unoccupied in full view, either. If nobody was home, I decided to simply wait until they were. I made my way up to the porch, but, before I could press the doorbell or knock, the front door opened and Carlisle Cullen greeted me. I was surprised to see him, which sounded stupid as it was his house, but, I was sure he worked days at the hospital. At least, whenever I'd visited in the evenings, he'd usually been home and I was sure I remembered him saying something about preferring to work daytime hours.

"Bella," he started to smile, but my 'open' face must have given me away immediately, as his expression quickly became solemn. Before he could speak, I asked where Alice was. "She and Jasper are still out with Esme, I'm afraid," he replied.

"O-oh," I said, retreating down a couple of the porch steps. Stood before the perfect specimen that was Doctor Cullen, I suddenly felt very silly. Here I was, a bedraggled mess, storming over to his house, just expecting Alice to be home, simply because I needed her. I really hadn't thought my plan through. I mean, they'd recently acquired a new guest and the last thing they'd want to do is deal with my pitiful woes. Aware of the sharp throbbing shooting through my fingers, I made an effort to sneakily hide my injured hand behind my back. Again, it wasn't fair to simply assume he'd sort out my busted hand, especially if it was his day off. I should have known, however, that his sharp eyes would notice.

"What happened?" he asked, moving forward so fast I was unable to counteract the action. His cold hand reached for the one I attempted to conceal, pulling it carefully, but firmly into view.

"I-it's nothing, honestly. I-"

"Bella?"

His eyes searched mine and I felt unable to withstand their questioning gaze. His face exuded such concern and kindness that it cracked my resolve in seconds. That was when the tears and sobs began. Cradling my wounded right hand in his, I was encouraged to move forwards, but resisted at first, shaking my head. I felt like such an idiot, having never wanted him to see me like this. He'd think so little of me when he discovered I'd done the damage to my hand myself. Refusing to take no for an answer, his free arm encircled my shoulders, and pulled me close, as the tears were finally given free reign and I started to weep into his chest. His palm rubbed soothing circles over my upper back as my left hand clenched around the hem of my top.

He was cold, so very cold, yet the cool body temperature did not bother me. His enveloping presence was warming, somehow, the aroma I had come to know as Carlisle's signature fragrance invading my nostrils and gradually helping to calm me down. He didn't speak or make a sound during the entirety of our embrace, but that was just what I needed. I didn't want to talk or think at that moment, I just wanted to bawl my eyes out like a baby and exorcise some of my misery for a little while.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, to be replaced by shuddering intakes of breath, as I regained any remaining semblance of composure I could find. My head turned so that my cheek was resting against his chest and I slowly opened my eyes. The breaths began to calm, until all that was left of my weeping fit was the occasional sniff. It wasn't until then that I realised I was trembling, but there were far too many suspects to determine the culprit.

"Bella," called Carlisle's heavenly, silken voice. "How did you get here?"

I wasn't ready to talk. I just wanted to remain right there in silence, focusing on nothing but the feel and smell of him as he held and comforted me. It was a wonderful thing and I was afraid of ruining it. I knew he'd also want to know why I had ended up there and I was terrified the answer would anger or upset him. The hand that had been massaging my back stopped and I panicked as a fraction of distance came between us. I was dimly aware of his arm snaking up between us, before frozen fingers touched my chin and levered my face upwards.

"Answer me," he appealed gently and there was no way I could refuse him.

"I walked," I replied, wishing I had the willpower to unlock our gazes.

His eyebrows rose in alarm. "In the rain?"

I nodded, before adding. "I ran some of it."

"Without even a coat, Bella?"

I felt beyond moronic and more tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, but, this time, from shame. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice quivering.

He pulled me to him again, taking the utmost care with my right hand. "Oh, Bella," he sighed, giving my shoulder a gentle reassuring squeeze as I wept once more.

The second round of tears abated far quicker than the first and Carlisle pulled away again to study my face. I was afraid to look up, but, when I did, saw no evidence of anger and the only sign of upset was his overwhelming concern for me.

"We need to get you inside," he said, his careful grip on my wounded hand never relinquishing as he walked me into the house.

I followed without protest as he led me down the hall and into the lounge, his stabilising arm around my shoulders offering every reassurance I needed. We stopped by the stairs and he turned to face me, quickly glancing at the hand, before speaking.

"I'll see to that in a minute," he promised. "But, first, you need to change into some dry clothing. You know where Alice's room is, so help yourself to towels and clothes. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him he shouldn't go to all that trouble for me, but his features became stern as he cut me off.

"Isabella, you have arrived on my doorstep in tears, soaked to the bone, possibly with a broken hand. I cannot and will not, in good conscience, let you leave until those three things have been rectified."

I was a little taken aback by his assertiveness. He'd never used that tone around me before and certainly never when referring to me by my full name. I knew there was no room for disobedience.

"Okay," I complied.

Good," he said, his features softening and one corner of his lips lifted in the compassionate half-smile I was far more used to seeing grace his countenance. He gave my bicep an affectionate squeeze, before continuing. "Now, go and get changed and, once I've fixed your hand, we'll talk."

A/N: Aww, there we are, our first bit of proper cosiness! Now, I can't promise the next update will be as quick as this one, but I'll try my hardest-promise! :)