Five-Bella

When I wake, I am momentarily disoriented. I have no memory of coming home, but I am wrapped in my blankets. The small stereo I've begun listening to at night is on, and soft measures of George Winston play. I stare at my ceiling as I try to remember completing any of my nighttime routine, but nothing comes to me. I throw my blankets aside and shuffle into my hallway to check out the window for my truck. Sure enough, it is parked where it always is, right next to my dad's police cruiser. I stare for so long that I don't hear Charlie behind me.

"Hey kid," Charlie greets me. "Sorry I got in so late last night. Thanks for picking up a pizza." He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder as he passes by me to head downstairs. "Oh, and Bells, make sure you bring your plate down when you come."

Confused, I go back into my room. Just like he said, there is a plate with two pieces of crust and an empty bottle of lemonade on my bedside table next to my battered copy of Age of Innocence. To Charlie, it looks like I had a quiet evening at home. I didn't, though. I ate no pizza, drank no lemonade, read nothing. Did Carlisle do this? Did he cover for me so that I'd have time to figure out my story to Charile? A sudden wave of some emotion, unidentifiable and overwhelming, washes over me. It's more than grateful…maybe a little nostalgic? Regret at putting my walls back up?

My first order of business is to change out of the grey hospital sweat suit-that's the most damning piece of evidence. There isn't much that can be done about the ace bandage around my hand. I have no idea what to tell Charlie. I could go for the full truth, but he might storm La Push, and I want nothing to do with any of that drama.

I fold the sweats up and put them on top of my dresser. I'll have to figure out a time to get those back to Carlisle. I worry that Alice will be waiting for me again; how closely does she watch me? I'm willing to bet it's more than anyone would ever let on. Damn Jacob for causing this! I'm disappointed. He's someone whom I would have expected to respect my boundaries, but instead, he's proven himself to be like every other guy who thinks that they have a right to what they want. The betrayal is a bitter acid that burns in my throat.

On my way out of my room, I pause to grab the plate of pizza that I did not eat. It was incredibly thoughtful of Carlilse to stage a very believable night in for me-down to the uneaten pizza crust, which he somehow knew-and I feel another surge of that emotion. Once my plate is in the dishwasher, I pull out my seldom-used cell phone.

"Thank you," I text. A typing bubble appears, disappears, and reappears several times before I get a response.

"Anytime, Bella."

"Do I want to know about the hand?"

Charlie's voice shocks me again and I turn with a little jump. He stares at me quizzically and I scold myself. If I don't get my head out of the clouds, he'll know something's happened. The less in the know, the better, when it comes to my father.

"Probably not," I say, brushing it off with a laugh. "It's just our genes setting me up for failure again." He accepts it for what it is and I let out a whoosh of relieved air. Eager to change the subject, I ask, "What had you out so late? I nearly finished my book and you still weren't home." Or I would have, if I hadn't been raked over the coals by Rosalie and then fallen asleep in Carlisle's car. God, how mortifying. What if I snored? How long had I been asleep before he took pity on me and brought me home? The idea of regal and handsome Carlilse Cullen in my purple and painfully stunted childhood bedroom is too embarrassing to handle. I knock over the salt and pepper shakers with an abrupt twitch, as if I can physically rid myself of the thought.

"Well, Sue and I had dinner, but I got called out to a scene around 8 PM. Thank God Sue is as patient as she is," he answers. There is an undercurrent of fondness in his voice and it makes me smile. Charlie has been alone for a long time.

"I guess it's leftovers for lunch, then," I say. I slide a couple of pieces of pizza into a Ziploc bag and set it in front of him on the table. "Glad you got home safely, dad."

"Oh, I noticed the sink stopped leaking," he says. "Was that Jacob's doing? He's a good kid." I fight an eyeroll, but he doesn't miss the grimace on my face. My poker face is atrocious. "What's with the face?"

"We just got into an argument. It's not a big deal. We are taking some space apart." Charlie holds up his hands in surrender.

"I know when not to push it," he says. I flash a grateful smile at him as he rises with a groan. "Ugh, don't get old, Bells. I'm off. Any plans for the weekend?"

"I'm going to finish Age of Innocence and find a new read," I say. "You've raised a wild one."

"Why don't you reach out to a friend? You've kept to yourself a bit lately."

I make a noncommittal noise to appease him without actually agreeing to anything. I had enough interactions yesterday for a lifetime. We part ways shortly after. School is usually uneventful, which is what I'm looking for. We're marching soundly to the end of our school year. I have no idea what I'm planning on doing. I know ultimately that I want to go to college, but I've been considering taking a gap year. I don't know what I would do with it, but there are so many things that I'm trying to work out. My list of extra-curriculars is essentially non-existent, which I know that schools will not look kindly on. Taking a gap year at least gives me a chance to develop some form of culture to wow college admissions.

The issue with a school as small as Forks-one of many-is that there are few choices and the people within those choices are not those with whom I have a burning desire to be friends. I'm not artistic, musical, athletic…where would I ever fit in? Maybe if we had a writing or literature club, I'd participate. For a brief time, I worked at Newton Outfitters, but it was too uncomfortable-with Edward gone, Mike thought it was his chance. A relationship with him has never been so much as a blip on my radar, though, and I made it clear.

My conversation from the night before plays in my head. What will the Cullens do when graduation rolls around? Will they stay local? Will they join Edward in New York? I get the feeling something is being hidden from me, although I suppose it isn't my place to know anymore. The realization that this could be the last time I see the Cullen family-forever-sends a sudden child down my spine. For the second time in less than an hour, I wonder if cutting myself out of their family is the right choice-especially because I've come to consider them my family as well.

It's isolating, trying to find my answers and having no one who I can properly talk through my questions with. At the last minute, I drive past the turn to school and drive myself to the hospital. I haven't even figure out what my plan is as I ask for Carlisle. He's with a patient, but the front desk staff allow me to go to his office and wait for him

I seat myself behind his desk. It is covered in organized piles of paperwork and one lone picture of his family. The burn of Edward's departure stings less than I expected, though he is no less beautiful than before. I find I'm able to look more objectively at him than before, and it is a relief I didn't know I needed. A closure of sorts.

I wander around from behind his desk and look at his bookshelf. We share quite a few titles in common. I wonder vaguely how much time he spends here versus his home. If he didn't have to keep up appearances, I'm almost certain he'd be here 24 hours a day. I've always wondered how they fill their off hours, especially Esme. She has chosen not to follow a career path, and has the most amount of time to kill. I think I would go crazy without something to fill my time, especially as a vampire.

"Bella, what a surprise. What brings you here?" Carlisle asks. I didn't hear him come in.

"An author," I blurt out without thinking. I turn to face him; he watches me with amused confusion.

"An author brings you here today?"

"No," I respond. An embarrassed heat washes over me. "I was thinking about what I'd do if I were a vampire with eternal time on my hands. I wouldn't want to do nothing forever."

"It's difficult to have time as an infinite resource," Carlisle admits. He shrugs out of his lab coat and hangs it over the back of his chair. The muscles in his forearms glint dimly in the place light filtering weakly through the windows and I watch them instead of speaking. "How is your hand?"

"Swollen, but fine," I say with a shrug. "Thank you again for covering for me last night. Charlie didn't suspect anything. I didn't-I can't believe I didn't even know," I add in my marveled tone.

"You were very tired, it seemed," he comments lightly.

I run a finger along the spine of a stone cat statue nestled in his bookshelf. Carlisle sits and pulls a stack of paperwork toward him. We are silent while I try to figure out what to say without wasting his time. After a few moments pass, I drop into the chair across his desk. He looks up expectantly but doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what to do." The words come out of me in a rush. Carlisle sets his pen down and folds his hands on the desk. I find myself staring at them, remembering the nimble way they worked on my arm and hand. The very beginnings of a blush form and I will it away. I don't know why I've fumbled with my words so badly today, but I'm sure he has noticed.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks.

"Just…in general, I guess. I think I was hard to Alice last night. I meant what I said about not wanting to cause more harm to your family, but I also meant it when I said that I was selfish. I love your family, and I miss you all." I let out a huffy sigh before I continue. "I also don't know what I'm doing with my life. Do I go to college? Take a gap year? Honestly, I was expecting to be a…well, you know, so I didn't plan. I'm sorry, I'm sure you have more important things to deal with."

"Is that truly still a life you would pursue, Bella? That's twice today you've mentioned it." His tone is surprised, curious. I drag my gaze up to meet his. He's staring at me as if I am a puzzle he cannot quite figure out-which is fair, since even I cannot figure me out.

"I don't know," I say again. "I haven't written it off, but I know the circumstances are different. What are you planning to do when school ends?"

I watch Carlisle wrestle with an answer before he finally speaks.

"Well, I suppose that relies on what you choose to do." The words are slow, deliberate. Our stare does not break until I cannot handle the intensity of his topaz gaze. "What I mean is that Alice, and most of my family, we are prepared to remain in your orbit for as long as you want us. What you choose to do is entirely yours."

"Alice knows something," I say. It is not a question. "Something about me. My future. Doesn't she?" Carlisle doesn't answer and instead organizes his already clean desk. It does not take enough of his focus and he rises. He faces away from me, looking out the window, hands shoved in his pockets. "Carlisle, what has Alice seen?" My voice is firm now, demanding. My hunch was right, it would seem.

There is a beat of silence too long for even a human conversation before he speaks at last.

"Alice's vision of you joining our family did not change when Edward left," he says. It sounds like it pains him to say each word that comes out of his mouth. "Something else will keep us all together."

"What is it?"

He pauses for three beats before answering, and I know he's lying.

"I don't know."

"Carlisle." He turns to face me, and there is a new look in his eyes that wasn't there moments before. My stomach flips. "Is it so terrible?"

"No, Bella," he says. "It's not…that it's a terrible thing, to have you join. And as far as I am aware, you make the decision voluntarily, not out of imminent need. Alice has asked that we not intercede to change the tides one way or another." His voice is apologetic, but his eyes still hold onto that faraway look. I join him at his side and touch a hand gently to his forearm. He stares down at it, but I do not remove it. My fingertips tingle against his icy skin, still bared by his rolled-up sleeves.

"I won't push it," I tell him. "I want to know, of course, but I can respect the position you're in. Just…make me a promise that you'll tell me if it turns into something I really need to know?"

"I promise."

My mind races as I drive to school. I've already missed half of the day, and I walk into English class just as the bell rings. My mind is a hundred miles away, and I have a hard time concentrating on anything other than the conversation I just had with Carlisle. Somehow, some way, my future is still tied to their family. I cannot ignore the thrill that washes over me when I think about it. I know that I shouldn't be excited about it, but there is something that keeps me tied to the Cullens. I always thought that it was Edward who kept me there. Instead, despite his absence, I still find myself coming back to them over and over again. Although specifically, I find myself going back to Carlisle over and over again. I shove that to the back of my mind. That's a problem for future me to unpack.

The day through to the end. I drive home with my mind elsewhere. As I round the corner of trees, I find Carlisle's car parked next to my father's cruiser. He shouldn't be home from work yet, and my pulse hammers in my ears. A cold sweat of panic breaks out. I throw my truck into park and sprint into the house.

"Dad?!" I shout. Why would Carlisle's car be at my house unless something was wrong? "Dad?" I shout again. I slip on the accent rug and right myself as I race toward the stairs. "Dad-oof!" I'm suddenly bouncing backward. I haven't cleared the wall as I turned up the stairs and I'm dropping toward the floor. Cold hands catch me around my waist and I realize that it wasn't a wall at all-it was Carlisle. He stabilizes me as I look around frantically. His eyes are bleeding concern as he looks at me.

"Bella, is everything okay?"

"You tell me!" I say. My voice is high, hysteric. "My dad, is he-?" Carlisle's eyes shift to realization as I speak.

"Oh, Bella, Charlie is fine. I'm not here to tend to him," Carlisle tells me. I go slack with relief in his arms and lean the top of my head into his chest. He tips my chin up with one hand, the other still on my waist. "I promise you that if I'm ever tending to your father, you'll be the first person I call." I nod my head in agreement. Charlie calls out to me, his footsteps drawing closer. Carlisle and I both step back from each other, his hands dropping to his side, just as Charlie enters the entrance to the stairway. I throw my arms around Charlie in an infrequent show of affection and his arms circle around me unsurely.

"You alright, Bells?" he asks with a chuckle.

"I thought something happened to you! Carlisle's car was here, and you didn't answer when I called for you," I explain. My voice is muffled into his plaid-clad shoulder. He places his hands on my shoulders and holds me out to see him. There is a twinkle in his eye, almost like he is touched by my concern.

"I'm fine, Bells. You know me, tunnel vision. I didn't hear you come in. Dr. Cullen here has agreed to help me with a case that came across my desk this morning."

"Dad, what have I told you about bringing work home?" I ask sternly, putting my hands on my hips. He chuckles again and rubs a hand on the back of his neck.

"Your father didn't want to pull me away from my patients, so I agreed to help him after hours. If you're going to scold anyone, scold me," Carlisle offers. We lock eyes again and I make a face at him, but there is no bite behind it. I'm still thinking about his hands on my waist, on my face, and how it didn't feel close to fatherly at all.