Things had returned, with an eerie easiness, to a state approaching normalcy. They were a few weeks back into school, Edward's classes exactly what they had been before the Cullens had left.

Charlie's hostility towards Edward had not abated, and while he didn't like that Edward picked Bella up, and dropped her off every day for school, he couldn't exactly change the terms of her grounding to suit his prejudices, much as he wanted to. Instead, he lingered between ignoring him, or making surly comments that he thought Edward couldn't hear.

Edward didn't blame him in the slightest. He deserved every ill wish the man had to throw at him. He wasn't going anywhere, though.

Bella tolerated Charlie's hostility. She counted it as cheap payment for her time with Edward.

Tonight she and Edward were busy at the dining room table, working on a stack of university applications. Bella felt this was a solid waste of time, considering most universities and colleges had deadlines in the fall, but Edward persisted.

When he presented the paperwork for Dartmouth, though, she threw down her pen. "No way."

"Why not?" He asked. "I think you'd like it."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I think you would."

"Edward," Bella said softly, as if she was explaining something to a small child. "I can't afford Dartmouth, and" she frowned, "I'm not exactly Dartmouth material."

"You absolutely are," he said, eyebrows creased. "And you don't need to worry about the cost."

She huffed out a breath, and crossed her arms. "No." Then she changed her mind, and went to pick up the applications, but they were gone. "Where—?"

"Never mind," Edward said, "you've already written most of the essays anyway. Besides, I can write your signature better than you can."

She eyed him narrowly. "Fine, waste your money on an application that goes nowhere. Be my guest."

"Happily," he said cheerily.

"What are you two hissing about?" Charlie called from the living room, then standing, walking towards the dining room table. "Are you having a fight?" He asked this second question with optimism.

"No Dad," Bella grumbled.

Charlie wandered back to the couch with a beer, grumbling something she didn't catch. Edward smiled, but shook his head when Bella looked at him.

"Where do you see yourself next year, then?" Edward asked, when Charlie's attention was fully engaged in the game.

"Washington state," Bella said. "Close to home. Nice variety of courses. Reasonable tuition that I have a hope of affording."

Edward ignored this baited comment, and instead drummed his fingers on the table. "Have you been there?" he asked.

"No," Bella said, but suspecting further disapproval from his quarter on her university of choice, said, "I'm guessing it's like most other universities, Edward—nothing special."

He'd put her on edge about her choice of school, clearly. How would undig that particular hole? "Is that where you'd really like to go?" he asked quietly. He'd moved his hand to hers.

She nodded. It didn't matter that much to her. She knew school would only be temporary. Just a year.

"Then you should visit the campus," he said. "Get to know it a bit."

"Sure," Bella sighed, looking back at Charlie, "and by the time I'm twenty, I'm pretty sure he'll have ungrounded me." She laughed a little at the end of this soft statement, but the sound of it was tinged with bitterness.

Edward's mouth twisted a little. "Give it time," he said, "I doubt he plans on grounding you forever."

Bella made a loud "tch."

Charlie turned his head again, and grinned. He thought they really were fighting. When he turned his face back to the TV, it was with the contentment of a man who believed the world turning to his course.

"After what Jacob pulled," Bella said quietly, standing, stretching, "I won't be surprised by anything." she grumbled.

And yet, Edward thought, with no small amount of his own bitterness, she still wanted to be friends with this...boy.

"I think," he suggested carefully, "that we might spring you for a weekend."

She looked at him, the expression on her face communicating all her incredulity.

"The tickets," he said, "that Esme and Carlisle gave you—they're about to expire."

Bella had forgotten about them completely, and felt a guilty stab. She should have given them to someone, or used them...anything but just forgotten about them. "Right," she said. The guilt was written all over her face.

"I'm not saying that to make you feel badly," Edward said, taking her hand. "But I don't think Charlie could object to you visiting your mother."

The reaction, to the idea of seeing her mother, was visceral. To drag all the danger that lurked in every corner here, to her mother's door, made her take in a shaky breath, her stomach collapsing in on itself.

"No," she said softly, controlling the edge in her voice. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Edward was undeterred though. "Alright," he said, "if not that, then I happen to be aware that Washington State is running an event for prospective students next weekend."

Bella allowed herself a moment to marvel that he knew this. She didn't ask how, but said instead: "And you really think that Charlie would let me go away for a weekend—I am assuming, with you?" She was half turned to him, murmuring quietly, eyebrows stretched upwards.

"I think," he said calmly, still stroking her fingers, "that if Alice happens to mention it, and Esme politely asks him if you'd like to come along with us, there's a slim possibility of it happening."

"Slim indeed."

It wasn't so slim though, and Bella felt the need to keep pinching herself, as she and Edward drove away from his house, Esme, Alice and Jasper dropped off, having completed their part of the ruse.

"So," she asked, a little nervously, but excitedly too, "why aren't they coming? Seeing as you're apparently all so very interested in a state university these days?"

Edward faced her, giving her favorite grin. It almost made her forget her question. "Do you want them to come?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, too quickly to appear nonchalant.

What she was wondering, was if a weekend away, together, meant something more than just a chance to not be grounded.

She was hoping—very much—for more.

Had his views on that softened, perhaps? In his time away? He was so set against changing her. Was there at least one crucial concession he was willing to make?

"We haven't had much time, just to be together," he said, "just you and me. And, I figured it would give you more of a chance to actually see a university. Enjoy it as a student, not surrounded by jaded vampires. But," he said, seeing her look, "we can turn back and get them, if it makes you feel better."

She smiled at his teasing, laughing, and offered a chuckled, "no," in reply.

The drive was long, but it gave them a much needed chance to simply talk, away from all the spaces that held memories, pleasant and not, and for Bella to wonder together at things she hadn't seen before. The last time she'd been to Seattle was years ago, long enough for that the drive's sights were a novelty.

He stopped too often for her tastes, but insisted she needed to at least eat, and stretch her legs. These breaks in their trip were sweetened with his kisses, snatched against the car.

"Lascivious woman," he chuckled, when she insisted, on their third stop, that he 'pay the toll' before she got back in the car. He obliged her nonetheless.

It was dusk when they reached the hotel, an imposing building, with multiple, liveried young men poised at the entrance. Edward let the valet take the keys, but pulled out their bags himself, sparing his other hand for hers.

"Two rooms," Bella asked, a little quizzically, when the concierge handed over the room keys.

He raised his eyebrows at this. "Of course."

She let her eyebrows stay high at the expense. And it was expensive, she was sure, looking around the lobby, at least that, if not more.

"I fully expect Charlie to call and check that there are two rooms," he murmured to her, as they moved towards the elevator. "He thinks well of Esme, but…"

They didn't walk into separate rooms, though, and he showed her into hers, handing her the key. He was surprised by the flutter in her heart. She was nervous. He just couldn't figure out why.

"Is there something wrong with the room?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, very quietly, swallowing, running a finger over the spread on the bed's high surface.

He cocked his head to the side. "There's a nice pool. Want to go for a swim?"

She relaxed, immediately.

Strange, he thought.

"Sure," she said, "just let me get changed."

"OK," he said, and set her bag on the bed, and slipped through the adjoining door to the other room.

It took him a second to slip on his swimsuit, and he waited, listening to see if she was ready. He'd heard the soft slap of clothes dropped onto the bed. The softer ruffle of fabric told him she was looking through her bag, as if she couldn't find something. The quiet, but incredulous, "what?" was a surprise, though.

"Everything OK?" he asked, suddenly anxious something was wrong.

Her voice was a bit strangled when she answered. "These aren't my clothes."

Edward thought for a moment. He'd pulled Alice and Esme's bags out of the trunk, placed there for show, but packed nonetheless. They were thorough with their human charades. Always. There was no way he could have gotten the wrong bag.

Then it clicked. They'd stepped out of the garage for a minute.

"Alice," they both said, and Edward laughed. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of something in her thoughts.

Bella was not laughing though.

Alice had replaced everything she'd packed, but with Alice-ized versions of everything. There was a swimsuit, alright, but it was high where it should have been low, and low where it should have been high. Bella put it on, and when she looked in the mirror, couldn't doubt that it looked...she supposed, what Alice thought was good—it just left more of her looking good than she'd ever worn before. She quickly grabbed one of the hotel robes out of the closet, and put it on before she called out "I'm ready," to Edward.

He grinned when he saw her. "That," he chuckled, taking her hand, "is going to be difficult to swim in."

He was wearing his t-shirt, and a pair of long swimming trunks. He still looked like a model.

Or a minor deity.

"Good thing I don't actually really swim," Bella said, distracted by his appearance.

"You don't?" He asked, surprised. They'd never been near water before, together. He'd been looking forward to seeing her in this element.

"Not really, no," she said. "I can usually keep myself from drowning. Most of the time."

Edward's face darkened at this allusion to her cliff jumping.

She shrugged. "Never really learned."

"You should," he said, more concerned than he wanted to be. "It's important."

"Perhaps you can teach me then," she said, "just not...today. In this swimsuit."

"You checked everything else in there?" he asked, lifting his chin towards the bag.

She looked at him, suddenly very still. "Did you—?"

"Oh no," he held his hands up, as if washing them of Alice's business, "I know better."

She sighed. "I'll make do," she said grimly.

"There's time still," he said, "if you need anything. We can go out to get it."

She knew that this meant him paying for things, and she was already feeling stretched beyond her capacity there for the weekend. He'd made the lamest of arguments that one of them would be coming to this weekend, to play their part in the school charade, that the cost was nothing. Still, it made her uncomfortable, accepting this. Their inequity felt deepened.

"No," she said quickly, "you just might be seeing a lot of this hotel robe, that's all."

"And it looks fantastic on you," he said, pulling her into a hug. "As everything does."

Her heart was flying again, feeling him so close, with so little on.

"Shall we?" he said, pulling away.

She nodded, the words sucked out of her.

The pool was deserted, the windows tinted against any straying sunlight.

"Convenient," Bella said, noticing this.

"One of the reasons Carlisle stays here," Edward said.

"He likes to swim?"

"He does," Edward said, "though we all prefer slightly larger bodies of water."

Knowing their natural speed, she could well imagine.

He threw off his t-shirt onto one of the chairs, and slipped almost soundlessly into the water. "It's warm," he said, knowing how much she hated being cold.

"Do me a favour and turn around," she said, untying the robe.

He did, without comment, and she made what felt like a loud 'splosh,' trying to slide gracefully into the pool.

"Am I allowed to turn around yet?" he asked.

She was neck deep by this point. "Yes."

He could see, most exquisitely, why she was so uncomfortable. She looked stunning. He swam over to her with one easy stroke, "you look lovely," he said softly.

Her cheeks answered with their high colour, and she took a tentative, and incredibly awkward stroke towards him in the water.

She hadn't been underestimating herself. She really didn't know how to swim.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, watching her struggle.

"Sure," she said, a little out of breath.

"Here," he said, and showed her the curve of his arm, face down in the water. "Try that."

She did, but he could see she wasn't quite getting the angle right.

"Slightly higher, and then down—right there."

He persisted for a bit, but realized he wasn't the teacher she needed. She was also shivering from his repeated touch. He concluded, incorrectly, that she was cold. Her high heart beat could be attributed to that too. But no, she was vibrating with excitement at their closeness, mitigated only by the water, and the very little clothing that their swimsuits provided.

"Hot tub?" he suggested, watching the latest shiver.

"Sure," she said, ready for things to warm up, literally, and figuratively.

It didn't help that he pulled her over to his lap in the hot water, or that he let her kiss grow more animated than it normally did.

After a few minutes, he could feel her fingers beginning to wrinkle, and not wanting her to be uncomfortable, suggested that they go back to the room. He meant for them to dry off.

Bella took it to mean something else, entirely.

She turned and kissed him with a clarity and energy that he hadn't experienced since before he left.

His heart ached, feeling it, not wanting to push her away, but uneasily aware of just how many of their normal barriers were absent. When her fingers hooked lightly into the elastic at his waist, he put both hands at her wrists, and pulled them gently away, not breaking the kiss.

He did stop when he felt her shiver, pulling back, "you're cold," he said, grabbing the robe she'd discarded when they'd returned to the room, and going to wrap it around her.

"I'm fine," she said, moving to kiss him again.

"You're not," Edward said, more insistently, watching another shiver take her. "I'll go get changed, too."

The look of confusion that blossomed on her face was there one instant, and then gone the next. A line of red swept up her cheeks, and she looked away.

"Bella?" he asked, "what?"

"Nothing," she said, realizing that she had been completely wrong on what everything had meant.

She looked down, shrugging on the robe, and picking up her clothes from the bed. Her movements were controlled, but he could see the anger there. It was the small, huffed in breath made everything click for Edward.

"Bella," he said softly, taking her hand. He pulled her to sit down beside him, "did you think there was some other significance to this weekend?"

She said nothing, but swallowed again, looking down, utterly embarrassed, and humiliated.

"I'm sorry," he said. "If I'd realized—" he stopped, speaking even more gently. "You know we can't. I can't risk hurting you."

Her breathing was becoming more erratic, and her hands trembled. She was angry. Angry beyond words.

He waited, hoping she would speak, but she only shook more.

Finally, she opened her mouth. "You won't change me," she said, her voice shaky too.

Edward, wisely, said nothing, but listened, uncertain, and worried.

'And you won't be with me. Or believe me, when I tell you that I know you won't hurt me."

He still didn't speak, listening, watching her intently.

"And you want us to be together, while I age, while I wait, worrying about when the Volturi show up. Or Victoria. And potentially, other people, or your family, get hurt, because of me being human."

If he had a heart, it would have been vibrating with anxiety. She saw, he realized, finally, with clarity, how little right he had to her heart. Of her. How utterly undeserving he was of her life. Of her love. That he only brought trouble. Death.

That he was a monster.

Did she see it all? So clearly, as he did?

He had no answer to her words, but looked at her, hoping against the many barriers to their togetherness.

"I think I need a few minutes alone," she said. This time, her voice was cracked and broken. She was crying.

"Bella—"

"No," she said, and pulled away. He didn't dare try to keep her hand in his. "Please," she added.

He stood, and against every impulse screaming at him, walked away from her, hearing the tears slap at her lap as they fell, each one a loud and deserved recrimination.

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.