She was staring at the collection of bottles on the edge of the bath. She realized, in her murky state, that they were likely all for her.
Normally, this would bother Bella, but this afternoon, everything seemed to slide by unnoticed. Untouched.
She was too lost in her slideshow of these last days' events, playing on repeat in her mind: betrayal, death, and injury.
Edward had kept himself calm, she could tell, for her sake. Or, perhaps the destruction of so many lives, or the mangling of them, didn't bother him.
She wouldn't expect him to be concerned for Jacob or his injuries. Carlisle wasn't. And she wasn't, after all.
She was relieved.
It had been a difficult conversation to navigate her way through, assuring him she didn't want to see him. That she wasn't trying to protect his feelings. That she was trying to protect Jacob's.
Here her gorge rose again, and she forced herself to release the tension her body held.
It wasn't safe yet. She needed to hold on just a little bit longer.
When though, a small voice insisted. When?
She silenced it with denial.
The water was growing increasingly tepid. She'd added cold water as soon as Alice had left. The heat of the bath had been too much. Too intimately pressed against her.
He would be fine. That's what Carlisle had said, when he returned.
Good. He could be fine. As long as she didn't have to see him again.
"Bella?" Alice called. "You must be a prune by now. Why don't you come out?"
Did it matter? Bella wondered.
The sound of the girl in the clearing, her life ending in that horrific screech and sound took residence in Bella's mind, and she shivered.
"And you're getting cold," Alice said.
Keep it together, she told herself.
"Sure," Bella said, "just a minute."
Then she realized she had no clothes in the bathroom. Just a towel.
"Um," she started, "could you leave me my clothes?"
Alice sighed from behind the door, loud enough for Bella to catch it.
She couldn't help but smile. At least she could still exasperate Alice.
The sound stopped, abruptly, though.
"Bella," Alice's voice came again, this time entirely different, "what's wrong?"
Don't panic, the voice told her, just take a deep breath in.
It seemed like good advice, so she did.
"I'm fine," Bella said.
There was a pause. Clearly, Alice had seen something with her gift. "If you say so." The door slipped open a crack, and a neat pile of clothes appeared on the counter. "Here."
"Thanks," Bella replied, sure to speak clearly, and levelly.
"You can tell me what's bothering you, Bella," Alice's voice called, very quiet, very soft.
Like Hell I can, Bella thought, a shiver running over her as she stood, towelling off gingerly.
She didn't reply, dressing quietly, opening the door when she was decent, allowing Alice to fuss with her hair. She drew the line at make-up.
"Believable, Alice. Charlie will smell a rat if I come home looking like this, without signs of a struggle."
Alice smirked, but rolled her eyes good naturedly.
When she dropped Bella off at Charlie's, they had the obligatory small talk, in which Bella was sure she participated, but not to the point where the particulars were memorable.
She made dinner mechanically, eating it the same way too, and Charlie, tired after talking so much, to fill the void of her silence, was happy enough to turn on the TV, and sink into a nap.
Her bed was a welcome refuge after the largely sleepless night. She kept starting awake, thinking she felt hands where none were, and when the hands were real, they were cold, and velvet, only brushing the hair out of her face.
"Go back to sleep," Edward said, "sorry I woke you."
She shook her head, to his request, or his apology, he wasn't sure.
"Just...nightmares," she said.
He could understand that well enough, and swallowed his nerves.
She'd been so calm. Too calm. He was waiting for her to fall apart.
He'd thought, when she'd passed out, that it might have come to a head then, but her restraint, her carefully controlled motions through the rest of the day, her speech even, had been so precisely modulated, he knew that he had yet to see the worst of it.
Or perhaps, it would be nothing. She'd surprised him before. It shouldn't surprise him now, that her reactions were so different from what was expected.
"Do you want me to hold you?" he asked. He said it with a twinge of guilt. He had his own motivations. Not all of them were altruistic. Watching Jacob Black do so had left a gaping hole, full of jealousy to roil around, that wanted closing. But mostly, he wanted her to sleep. To be well.
She didn't answer right away. This alarmed him, but only briefly.
Then it made perfect sense.
She was afraid of him. Perhaps not in a way that she was cognizant of, but after what she'd seen, what human could not be?
"Only if it helps you," he murmured softly, kissing her hand, and releasing it. He leaned back in the rocking chair, showing he was comfortable there. Making no imposition.
"That'd be nice," she said softly.
He let his shape match her own, her back to his, head on his arm. In the warmth of her room, his temperature was welcome. The rigidity of his flesh, less so. As careful as he was, the stony texture bit into her bruises, and weighed heavily on her fatigued ribs.
She shifted as little as she could, but he could tell she was uncomfortable.
"Sore?" he asked.
She only froze momentarily, but he noticed, wondering why this would bother her.
She cleared her throat. "No."
"I'll cross camping off the list of possible honeymoon destinations," he chuckled.
Bella made herself smile, suddenly grateful he couldn't see her face, and how forced that expression was.
She didn't try to continue the conversation, and he didn't push for it either.
Instead, she waited for sleep, and hoped her dreams wouldn't reveal more of her to him than her mind did.
Exhaustion was her friend, and her sleep deep, and dreamless.
