The hour he'd waited had felt like forever. His knock was quiet, and tentative. She'd stopped crying, and showered, and changed. He could hear her move occasionally, the soft shuffle of her feet whispers against the carpet. He wanted to comfort her, but had nothing to answer her complaints. She was right.

It would serve him so well, to have her finally realize what he truly was, and how completely undeserving of her his very nature made him—to be paid back for the pain he'd caused her.

He knew he deserved it, but could only berate himself for his selfishness.

He simply wanted her—still.

He loved her.

"Bella?" he asked, loudly enough that he knew she would hear him, but quietly, so that she could have plausible pretense to ignore him, if she wanted.

She answered, though, and his insides squeezed together in relief.

"Yes," she said, voice soft and hoarse.

"Can I come in?"

She was wiping her face. He could hear the wet sound of her hand against her cheek.

"Sure," she called.

He didn't bother moving at a human speed after that, and had her in his arms, tentatively, but still there, warm, her heartbeat vibrating through her flesh. It reassured him, just being near her. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I—"

"It's OK," she said, "it was stupid of me to make assumptions. I should have known—"

He stopped both their next apologies with a well placed kiss, and it left her breathless, all worrisome thoughts silenced momentarily.

When it subsided, he let his hand play over her back, moving it in what he hoped was a soothing rhythm. She held her cheek against his chest, feeling her own body calm itself, just being next to his.

Her sense of unease persisted.

"I am sorry," he said, "do you—would it be better if I took you home, or—?"

"No," she said, "that would just be a waste. And then," she smiled a little ruefully, "we'd be stuck explaining ourselves to Charlie, and I'd just be back to being grounded. No, let's...spend the time together. Go see the school," she shrugged.

This was almost worse for him, watching her try to behave as if this disappointment didn't matter.

"Alright," he said, "perhaps we can head for dinner then?"

"Sure," Bella said, "let's," standing.

Dinner was quiet, subdued even, and while Bella tried to enjoy their conversation, it remained tinted by her disappointment. Every word was heavier, her laugh slower. She felt like she was still in the pool, trying to walk through the water, weighed down by it.

She'd suggested a movie, which she had no interest in watching, but it relieved her of the burden of making conversation. They sat together on the bed, he with a careful arm behind her, and when he felt her beginning to slip into sleep, flipped the blanket over her, turning off the TV.

He felt a deep worry that he couldn't put words to, watching her. He'd hurt her profoundly today, not catching her misapprehension. He just wasn't sure when it would all come to a head. Or how.

When she woke in the morning, more herself than he'd seen the evening before, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of relief.

Perhaps he was simply worrying.

The day's events proved interesting, and the tour was impressively well guided by third, and fourth year students.

It was only when they came to the intramurals section that Edward had to encourage her to stay.

"Edward," Bella said, "let me get this straight. This is like phys ed, only voluntary, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, it's much more interesting—dare I say, fun even. Come on—just go on the tour. They're just going to show you things."

It was Bella who was surprised to find herself intrigued by the competition they described. The student leader was impressive with his pitch.

Edward almost did a double-take when Bella put up her hand to ask a question. "So everyone on a team participates in each physical part, but only for a portion?"

"That's the idea," the young man answered, "sorry, didn't catch your name—?"

"Bella," she said, trying not to blush at the attention it drew.

"Bella," he repeated it.

Eyes and thoughts away, Edward growled silently, hearing the boy's ruminations.

"Yeah, everyone participates however much they're able in each part, but that frees them up to really play to their strengths. Makes it a real team effort."

"Huh," she said to herself.

"You interested?" Edward whispered to her.

"Maybe," she said.

"I'll let Emmett know," Edward murmured.

"Emmett?"

"Mm-hm," Edward said, scanning the crowd. Many were feigning polite interest, but there were a few who were truly intrigued. "Emmett lives for this kind of stuff."

"Really?" she asked, "I thought you guys hate having to slow down for," and she whispered the next part "human competition."

"Well, that part, yes," he said quietly, waiting to see if anyone had caught the bent of their conversation. When he was sure they were safely being ignored, he continued. "Emmett loves being part of a team. We can do the sporting part as a family, in part, but he really misses the...culture, the camaraderie."

"So," Bella said, "why doesn't he join a team or something?"

"Too many formalities these days," Edward said, "intramurals are informal. No blood tests required."

"I might be willing to try this," Bella said, almost to herself.

"Good," Edward smiled, "I'll come cheer lead."

She laughed nervously at this. There was no way she'd let Edward witness her efforts, but she did want to try, and it surprised her.

"When are sign ups for teams?" she called, when they asked for last questions.

"Right now, if you want to be on my team," the leader answered, smiling.

Bella hadn't been expecting this response, but figured, why not? "OK," and moved forward. She stopped, when she felt Edward behind her. "I think I can sign up on my own, Edward," she said lightly. He nodded in acknowledgment, and backed away, grinning.

He'd grown accustomed, in his time back in Forks, to the covetous thoughts of the boys at school, but it hadn't made him immune to them, and his eyes narrowed, hearing the speculative thoughts of the young man—Jun—she spoke to, exchanging contact information with him.

He liked even less how petty it made him feel.

She was doing something completely out of her regular span of comfort. He should be glad for her—and it rankled, that he would allow such a jealousy to come between them.

His face was carefully composed when she came back, as they finished the tour. "I'm glad you signed up," he made himself say. He was. He just wished it was with someone else, who wasn't quite so interested in her.

It was a full day, and she again suggested a movie, and she again fell asleep during it. When she said she wanted to attend the last session on the Sunday morning, he was caught off guard. He'd expected her to want to head home. She was rapt though, taking notes on some of the lesser known courses being promoted for first year students. He marvelled at her, and how she'd grown in his time away.

The drive home was much quieter than the one there. Edward left Bella to her silent thoughts.

Her soft "can we stop at your place?" was unexpected.

"Sure," he said, his eyebrows pulled together, "any reason why?"

"Do you really have to ask?" she said, her laugh not quite fully formed. "I'd like to have a word with Alice."

"She'll be ready for you," he said.

Bella was unexpectedly confident in her response. "No," she said, "I don't think she will."

It was Edward's turn to be confused, but only briefly. There was only one way she could be certain of her privacy.

"Did you ask her not to look at your future?" His voice was so carefully controlled, Bella couldn't help but catch the dangerous lilt of it over the car's hum.

"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze, the line of her mouth making the challenge clear.

Edward turned his attention back to the road, trying to keep logic, and his suspicion from coming together.

He wasn't successful though, and his hard wrench at the wheel made Bella brace herself.

"Whoa!" she said, "what're you doing?"

He was livid. Or, he would have been, if he had any blood with which to be. "Is this your plan?" he almost yelled, the sound of his voice filling the car with an uncomfortable volume, "to blind me? To not have me see danger coming? To force your change?" That she should be so reckless, as to willfully remove Alice's protection—but to scheme—and against his wishes...

She was so stunned by the force, and double-standard of his accusation, that she could only blow out a breath before opening her mouth to speak. "Really?" she said to him, her own voice rising in volume. "For your information, no. That isn't my plan." His hypocrisy had raised her own ire. "But it's pretty damn rich and high-handed that you think you're the only person allowed to make decisions about my life!"

"Keeping you alive is high-handed?" he yelled. "You're the most danger-prone person I've ever met!"

"Yes! And there's a very simple solution to fix that problem!" she snarled out.

They were staring at each other, both with balled fists trembling in rage.

After a few heavy breaths, she said, slightly more calmly, "There's not much point in me being changed, if you don't want me that way, Edward." The anger was waning, and the very deep rejection she'd felt was reasserting itself. It was pressing her to the verge of tears, and she was scrambling to get the anger back. "If you want me...human, then I'll be human. But I'll live my life without the curse of someone's prescience."

Edward's own anger slipped back, but he was still on edge, wondering how he could have missed this with Alice. How long had this been going on?

"When?" he asked, "since she last looked?"

"Weeks," Bella said curtly. Did it really matter exactly when? She dropped her eyes, trying to lose herself in the studying the car's upholstery.

"Bella," Edward said, breathing out in anxiety, or anger, she couldn't tell, "you can't—"

"Yes," she said through clenched teeth. "I will. You've got what you wanted. I'm human. I'm not endangering myself by being near werewolves. You're certainly not endangering me in anyway you think is dangerous." Her voice was marked with bitterness here. "Relationships have compromises, Edward."

She was right, he knew, but that she would hobble him, without Alice's gift. It was infuriatingly stupid, short-sighted, immature—

"I think I should go home," she said quietly. He was alarmed by her tone. She sounded...defeated.

He went to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away.

"No," she said. "I'd just like to go home. Please."

He was beyond anxious when he cut the engine in front of her house.

"Thank you," she said softly, taking her bag from him.

"I'll see you later," he said quietly. Hopefully.

"No," she said. "I'll see you at school tomorrow." As in, she wanted to drive herself. And not see him until then.

"Alright," he said, keeping his self-control in tact. It felt taut, his hold tenuous.

"How was the weekend?" Charlie asked, as Bella walked glumly into the house.

"Fine," she mumbled, heading directly upstairs.

Charlie didn't press the point, but peered outside, frowning when he saw Edward's anxious face at the wheel.

Edward pulled away, fighting the urge to park the car, and return to listen, to watch. He would, later, he told himself, but for now, he needed to think. To calm himself. He should probably hunt, too.

And, he thought more angrily, he needed to speak to Alice.

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