He'd had second thoughts about going to the pool. But he'd been awake, and knew sleep had abandoned him for the time, anyway.

The pool was sparsely populated, so early on a Sunday morning. The woman at the desk had yawned apologetically, waving him in as he showed his pass.

A few regulars were trickling in, dropping polite nods of acknowledgment to each other.

He struggled through the last laps. His arms were sore. Recalling why, a guilty thrill wound its way up his back, and then a flash of anger clambered over it, planting its flag at the summit of his body.

Jun gripped the rail, yanking himself up to the pool deck, then slapping his feet down, shaking off of the excess water.

A passing back-stroker glared up at him.

He only shook harder, as though trying to unseat his discomfort. The hot tub was empty, and he closed his eyes, making sure it stayed that way, at least for him.

"Hungover much?" A wry voice asked.

"Huh," Jun said, not opening them, lips tightening.

"Ooh," Tory went on, waggling her eyebrows. "Must be bad." She sighed in pleasure, slipping into the hot water. The pool had been chillier than usual that morning.

"Not hungover," he mumbled.

"Sure," she said, chuckling, "that naturally green hue really brings out the colour of your...blush," she added.

He was flushing, as much as the amber of his skin could.

Then she realized that it wasn't in humour.

She cleared her throat in quiet apology. "Trouble in paradise?" she offered softly.

"Tch," Jun said, but opened his eyes.

She didn't say anything else, figuring he'd talk if he wanted to.

He was clearly working up to it, the small pulls in his throat erratic and undecided.

"I don't know what happened," he started. "We were—," then he stopped, frowning.

After a moment, Tory put the blush and the pause together. "Ah," she murmured, understanding. "Gotcha." She looked discretely away.

"She hit me," he finished. He flicked his hands up in question. "Why?"

Tory decided this was not the time to make her usual jokes about straight guys. She was looking at him, though, trying to see where she'd hit him. Then his face turned. Of course, she thought. Not a shadow of a beard.

"Wait," she said, "when you were—?"

Jun nodded.

"Didn't you ask her?"

"Course I did," he said, "she just didn't...answer. I think she hurt her hand—"

"You mean, you didn't stay to find out?"

"No," he said, "I was—," he didn't finish. "I left. I was—"

"An idiot?" she supplied. "Seriously? You just left? How badly did she hurt her hand?"

Jun was beginning to regret this decision, a great deal more than he already had.

He swallowed, "yes," and then, "I don't know." He remembered guiltily how she'd been cradling it, the tautness in her face.

Tory swore under breath, glad she was free of all entanglements with such creatures. Men, she thought. Then she shook her head, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Jun cleared his throat, hoping he didn't regret this too. "Any advice?" he asked softly.

"Um, apologize? On your knees, while grovelling through a pool of broken glass?"

She resumed her head shaking.

But Jun was up and out of the pool, snapping his towel off the rack.

"Where're you going?"

"Off to break some glass," he called back.

It was early yet, though, and he went home first, startling a sleepy Leo in the kitchen. "Jesus," he muttered, Jun coming up out of the stairwell's dark. "You're like a fricking shark."

Jun snorted in amusement.

"Want some juice?" he asked, holding up a steaming ceramic mug. "Java flavoured." It sloshed invitingly. Leo did make decent coffee. All his other attributes as a roommate pulled against this one major benefit.

"Thanks," he said, inhaling its aroma. Probably not a bad idea, considering how little sleep he'd gotten.

"Surprised Bella's not here," Leo said, "didn't you two leave together last night?"

"We did," Jun said carefully. There was no way he was telling Leo anything.

But Leo was only half listening, waiting for an opportunity to mention that Sam was in his room. He was too late, though.

"Yeah, where is Bella?" she called, "I figured we could do the walk of shame together."

Sam sashayed into the kitchen wearing one of Leo's plaid shirts.

"Sorry, Sam," Jun said politely, and without any enthusiasm, "you're on your own there." He felt entirely bitter, seeing his roommate's easy comfort with Sam.

"No, no," Leo murmured, as Jun walked away, "I wouldn't let you do that alone, baby." Their kiss was gratingly audible.

- 0 -

Bella was still asleep, curled up against Edward, when her phone buzzed. The text was easy enough for him to read. It was from Jun: Can we talk?

He didn't need Alice's sudden prescient vision to tell him that destroying her phone in an enraged fit would not end well for anyone.

Nor would answering on her behalf.

He toyed with the idea of deleting it, though.

Edward! Alice's mind hissed.

He ignored her.

He wouldn't. No.

Sill holding her, he inhaled deeply, kissing the top of her head so lightly as to barely make contact with the cloudy layer of hair there. He wouldn't jeopardize this.

Jun had already done incredibly well sabotaging his relationship with Bella.

Not that it wouldn't gratify him to watch him hurt for what he'd done to the woman he loved.

If you keep growling, Edward, you'll wake her up, Alice admonished him.

He stopped, immediately. Too late, though, to stop the change he could hear in Bella's body.

Her movements freshened the smell of her blood, and he automatically stopped breathing. Not because it tempted him, but from instinctual habit.

She was in that liminal stage, half awake, half asleep, restless and murmuring. His favourite one.

"I'm OK," she murmured. "Don't need to, Edward" she continued on.

Then he heard her stomach preparing to violently reject its most recent contents. Alice was there, with a large bowl in hand, and Edward picked Bella up, just in time.

When it was over, and Alice had disappeared with the offensive substance, she murmured "Sorry," as she stood.

He helped her stand up, and she blushed at his touch. It was different now, in the daylight.

He'd promised, just for the night, and now he needed to respect what she asked for.

"I'll go," he said. "If you need anything, Alice is here."

Bella's face, which she tried valiantly to control, folded a thousand different ways, stricken and then suddenly calm. "Of course," she said, "thank you."

And because he wanted her to know, with certainty, that he wouldn't keep anything from her, he added, "I think you have a message," lifting his chin towards the bedside table.

Then he was gone.

She stared at the space where he'd been for some time, before picking up her phone, staring at the text, swallowing.

Not today, she typed back, feeling the reasserting queasiness of her stomach. Side effects, she knew. They should be gone by the next day.

Tomorrow afternoon, she wrote, pressing send.

Then she sat down on the bed, suddenly too exhausted to go to the bathroom. Or to move. Or consider the rest of her day.

Alice rapped her knuckles on the door. "Tea?" she asked softly. She was holding a tray with a steaming cup of something fruitily fragrant. Something herbal.

It made Bella's stomach wobble. "Maybe not, but thank you."

"Trust me, you'll be way better after this." Alice tapped her head. "I can see my own future. No puke involved."

Bella let something that sounded like a chuckle or a snort, but took the tea, Alice sitting down beside her.

"Bad night, huh?"

Bella looked at her sharply, and Alice put her hands up. "He didn't say anything. I just figured it would have to be pretty bad to get you into bed with him."

Alice hadn't seen her turn quite that shade of purple before.

"I slept with Jun."

Alice didn't say anything for a bit. When she did, it was soft. "Guessing it it didn't go so well?"

"No."

Alice took her good hand in hers. "Sorry," she said gently, "you deserve better than that."

Then Bella burst into tears.

She told Alice, in broken bits and pieces, about what had happened with Edward at the gallery, and in the most circumspect manner, what had happened with Jun.

Alice had to release her hand, afraid she would squeeze too tightly. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I really am."

"For what?" Bella sniffed, rubbing the cast against her face. "My stupidity?"

"No," Alice sighed. "Edward's. And for what happened after the fact."

"Edward was...so much better than I deserved, last night."

"Edward," Alice countered, "is operating under the umbrella of several utterly ridiculous ideas, and—"

"He isn't responsible for my actions, Alice."

She grimaced a bit, before answering. "No," she said softy, "he isn't."

The conversation limped on from there, slinking away into the waning of the day, and Bella's return home.